A man and a woman were sitting at the kitchen table.

He said, "Jesus Christ Almighty," sounding out of breath.

They were grinning at him now.

"How'd you get in here?"

Robin said, "It wasn't hard," and looked at Skip.

"Was it?"

Skip let Robin handle it. When Donnell wanted to know what they thought they were doing, Robin told him they were here because he'd fucked up. Donnell said, "Wait now, I have to hear this." But first had to run upstairs, get the man settled with his nightcap. He left and Robin said to Skip, "Bring our stuff in."

"All of it?"

She said, "We're going to use it, aren't we?"

Skip went out through a back hall where there were two doors: one that went into the garage and the one he'd jimmied open with a screwdriver, nothing to it. (Coming in, Robin said, "No alarm system?" He told her maybe Donnell was afraid a burglar alarm might catch one of his buddies. Skip bet, though, the ex-Panther had a gun in the 1 house.) He went out through the busted door to the VW parked in the drive by the garage. First he brought their bags in. Robin, still alone in the kitchen, was looking in the refrigerator.

When he came in the next time, lugging the wooden case of Austin Powder, Used in 1833 and Ever Since, Donnell was at the kitchen table talking to Robin.

He looked up, appeared to become rigid, and said, "You ain't bringing that in here."

In this moment Skip decided he wasn't going to have any trouble with Donnell. If the man was ever an ass-kicking Black Panther he must've forgotten what it was like.

Skip put the case on the end of the table away from them and Donnell stood right up. Look at that. Made him nervous Skip could tell Robin saw it, too.

She said to Donnell, "It won't hurt you," with a tone meant to soothe him.

"All we want to do is stash it someplace. By Monday morning I promise it'll be gone."

Skip liked that. It would be gone, all right, along with whoever was standing nearby. He wanted to wink at her, but she wasn't through with Donnell yet, saying to him now, "You must have a gun in the house."

Skip could tell Donnell didn't want to say.

"I believe there might be one."

"I'd find it if I were you," Robin said.

"You know why?" Talking down to him, making the guy ask, No, why?

Skip didn't care for her tone now, going from soothing to bored and superior. Or the way she said, "

"Cause your buddy the cop's going to come looking for you. The kids you sent to do a job on him blew it."

That wasn't right. She wasn't there, she didn't know what she was talking about. It seemed to antagonize the man, from his expression, more than it scared him.

Skip stepped in and said to the ex-Panther man to man, leaving the snotty woman out of it, "Actually it wasn't they blew it so much as they misread him, thought it was gonna be easy and it wasn't. What she's trying to say, Donnell, we don't want to make the same mistake."

Donnell said, "Mankowski is coming here?"

Skip said, "Imagine he will. See, but I'm the one set him up with the brothers. He comes here with a wild hair up his ass-man, I'd like to have something to hold him off with. You dig?" Skip shook his head as though imagining that situation and then said to Donnell, "A long time ago I tried to buy a gun off a you. You didn't know who I was, you told me to take a hike. Well, I wouldn't mind borrowing one now, for my own peace of mind. What do you say?

Or-I don't like to think about it, but if it does get down to the nitty-gritty and one of us has to take him out, well…"

Donnell went upstairs to find the gun, and now Skip had his chance to wink at Robin, giving him a cold look.

"Hon, that's how you do it with niggers that used to be Black Panthers.

You don't talk down to 'em or you don't arm-wrestle 'em, either. You act like we're all created equal, got bussed to their school and loved it."

Okay, here was the plan, the one Chris went to sleep on in his dad's bed about 4:00 A.M.:

Call Greta first thing in the morning. Ask her if he could move in with her for a few days. She'll say there isn't any furniture. He'll tell her that's all right; what he needs more than a place to sit down is a Detroit residence address. And would she pick him up this afternoon? Move his things over. She'll say fine, but the people who bought the house could be moving in soon. He'll say, Well, since we're both looking for a place to live-and she'd say something in her cute way… So, call Greta about nine. At ten, drive over to Woody's and put the gun in DonnelFs face.

"Where are they?" Robin and Skip. Or throw him in the swimming pool and hold the gun on him. Fire a couple into the water close to him.

"Where are they?" Haul Donnell's terrified ass out of the pool and get him to make a statement.

Maybe to use later, maybe not. See what happens… Go over there about ten. He wouldn't have to wear a coat and tie. But would never wear that raunchy-looking outfit Mel Gibson had on. Something casual..

..

The phone next to the bed woke him up at twenty after eleven Sunday morning, his dad calling from Toronto.

"How about meeting us at the airport?"

Chris said, "Yeah, I guess I could," feeling his plan coming apart before he'd even spoken to Greta.

"What time you get in?"

"We're standby on a flight that arrives around three thirty. We don't make it, then we'll be on one that gets in-I have it written down somewhere. Here it is, five forty."

"How'll I know which one you'll be on?"

"The way you work that," his dad said, "you go out to the airport and stand at the gate. If you don't see us come off the plane at three thirty, it means we're on the other one."

"That's… over two hours later."

His dad said, "Yeah?" and waited.

Chris said, "I bet it takes longer to drive from here out to Metro than it does to fly from Toronto to Detroit."

Thinking, And then drive back here. It could be seven thirty, the earliest, before he'd be able to get away.

His dad said, "We can take a cab. It only costs about fifty bucks, with the tip."

"It does? That much?"

"I don't want to inconvenience you…"

"No, that's all right."

"I thought since you been using my car…"

"No, I'll be glad to pick you up."

"And it's Sunday and you're not working anyway…

They put you back on yet?"

"I'm hoping this week."

"You find a place to live?"

"I think so."

"What about-is your friend still there?"

"Who, Greta? No, she went home."

His dad said, "Uh-huh." He said, "Well, listen, we'll see you later."

"I'll be there." Chris could hear Esther's voice then and his dad speaking away from the phone, saying, "What?… Yeah, we could." His dad talking to a woman in a hotel room in Toronto. Chris said, "You having fun on your trip?"

His dad said, "Yeah, it's a nice town, lotta things to do.

Listen, Esther says British Airways comes through here to Detroit.

We'll see what they have. Don't go anywhere the next hour or so. We get a different flight I'll call you back."

Chris tried Greta's number. The line was busy.

He went into the kitchen and began revising his plan as he put the coffee on and got three eggs out of the refrigerator. He should talk to Greta first. Tried her again, but the line was still busy. At least she was home. Fixing his breakfast he realized how hungry he was. The idea of having scrambled eggs became a cheese and onion omelet. He looked for a can of tomato sauce in the cupboard, give it a Spanish touch, brought out a can of chili instead and kept swallowing as he watched it bubble in a saucepan, poured the chili over the eggs and ate it, Jesus, it was good, wiping his plate with bread, ate every bite before he thought of Greta again.

This time when he called her phone-answering voice came on, though not the cute Ginger one saying she wasn't home, doggone it. The voice said, "Hi, this is Greta Wyatt.