She leaned back. "Stadanko comes around the corner we were talking outside of the conference room and Rudy shuts up.

He's full of himself, but he ain't crazy I don't say anything and the two of them march off.''

''So me and Zee get up there now?" Nap asked.

"No, it should be me and Zelmont," she answered.

I looked at Nap. "Why?"

"Because there might be some computer files to hack into. Can either of you do that?"

Nap and me didn't have jack to say.

"Okay, then, we go up early tomorrow morning. I have to be in New York to finish these broadcast negotiations on Friday, and I know the haggling will take me over to the following week. So once I get back, I don't want to raise any speculation should I then turn around and go out of town again. The season is almost on us, and I'll need to account for my time."

I was about to say something when some dude came over and tried to join our set. "Man, you is the bomb, home." He was pushing past me, shoving a drink toward Nap's face. "'Member that game where you knocked the shit out of Brett Farve and the ball flew up and you snatched it back down and went on in for the touchdown?"

Nap put his eyebrows up. "Sure do, I"

"Yeah he shook a finger all excited at Nap, "and that time you blew past Drake and White and got the one-hand tackle on Young? It must have been 20 below."

"He's your number one fan, Nap." Wilma winked.

The dude didn't take the hint. "You got that right, baby Ain't nothing about football I don't know, and certainly ain't nothing about the big man here I ain't up on. Like that Super Bowl game where he got six unassisted tackles."

The same Super Bowl where I made my spin and a half and caught the game-winning pass. I knew he was gonna slobber all over me any second.

"Let me buy you a drink." He got all in front of me, leaning on the table like he owned the joint.

"I'm cool, my man. Me and my friends are discussing some business, okay?" Nap said calmly. "How about I catch you a little later?"

"Aw man," the fool cackled like one of them sisters in a bingo game. He moved closer, splashing some of his drink on my sleeve but not noticing. "You ain't gonna high hand me like that, is you? Got my girl over there I want you to meet."

I looked over to where he was jerking his Jheri juice head. The chick he was pointing to had a big ass, a tight dress, and a bad weave you could tell was gank even in this light. "Nap, sign a napkin for this boy and send him on his way."

He put his drunk eyes on me. "Who the fuck is you, his motherfuckin' secretary?" He jabbed me in the chest with two fingers. "You ain't nobody but a hanger-on, ain't that right?"

"Yeah, that's right." I was getting real hot so I wasn't breathing right.

"Then skip your ass over to Office Depot and get a pad of paper for him to sign."

I was about to jack the chump when Nap put his arm around the dude. "Look here, brah, let's go over and meet your fine lady friend."

He looked up at Nap like he was a kid about to ride a merry-go-round for the first time. "Oh, that's great, man, great."

Nap took him away.

Wilma touched my hand. "We have to be circumspect from here on out, Zelmont. No untoward business that will give Fahrar an excuse to jam you or any of us up."

I was barely paying attention to what she said. I couldn't believe that gin-soaked punk didn't recognize me. I just couldn't believe it.

The drive up to Ridgecrest took over three hours, me at the wheel of the Explorer. Wilma wasn't much for rap so it was a steady diet of the CDs she'd brought along. Her taste was okay, but along with stuff like classic Led Zeppelin she had a weird-ass album by some band called the Squirrel Nut Zippers. Their music was like listening to old radio recordings, and I was glad when she slipped on Otis Redding.

"I can't remember the last time I was in the Mojave Desert," Wilma said. The sun was now up and we had the windows half cracked. The cool morning air felt good on my skin, and it smelled sweet outside. I usually didn't notice shit like that, but riding along with Wilma half-dozing on the seat beside me it seemed natural. Almost made me forget we had a job to do.

On the side of the road were those tall spiky trees with white flowers at the top. "What do you call those again?" I asked.

She didn't have to look. "Joshua trees, baby."

Ridgecrest was much more built up than I had expected. If I didn't know where we were, I might have thought it was some part of the Valley, except it looked cleanlike Disneyland does 'cause they always got them squares walking around with their brooms and dustbins on a pole picking up trash and horseshit. And every night they're scrubbing down the streets and scraping up gum before it turns black from being stepped on constantly.

"Can we stop and get breakfast?" she said.

"How many black people they got up here, Wilma?"

She turned her head at me. "We're not going to get jumped."

"We don't need to call attention to ourselves."

"Yeah, one of these old boys might recognize you. I guess we better find the cabin."

Maybe she was just saying that to make me feel better, but it did. I was starting to sweat so I rolled up the windows and put on the air conditioner. We drove, using the map Wilma had drawn after she got the address for the cabin. The houses we passed were out of a Spielberg movie about the 'burbs, the lawns very green and no cracks in the sidewalks.

Eventually we were back in the countryside again. "Do you know where we are?" I checked the gas gauge. Off to the right were some mountains that had shaved-off tops and funny angles. "What the hell are those called?"

"The Trona Pinnacles, I believe," Wilma answered. "Part of the charm of this area. And yes," she said, studying her handmade map, "I do have an idea of where we are. We should be heading towards Indian Wells.''

We passed the turnoff we were supposed to take, but Wilma caught it and we doubled back. I drove downhill through all kinds of shrubs on a gravel road barely wide enough for my truck. We hooked right and came upon a lot of bamboo set in front of a stone wall. In the middle was a large, showy iron gate.

"This is the place," Wilma said.

I stopped and turned off the ignition. "Let's scope this out first."

"It doesn't look like there's anyone here. Let's drive in," she said, pointing toward the gate.

"I think it'd be better if we go in on foot."

"So you can bust a move?"

"We should be careful, Wilma." A jack rabbit scooted past us, then back into the greenery.

She looked like she was gonna argue but let it go. "Fine."

We got out and stretched. She got her purse from the car, then we walked up to the gate. Wilma unlatched it and it swung open. I was surprised it was unlocked. Inside there was a mess of plants and the same weird, stick-like cactus that grew on either side of the roadway we'd come in on. Wilma was already marching past me and up towards where the cabin must be. I grabbed her arm.

"We ain't in that big a rush, are we?"

"Why? There's nobody here."

"How do you know?"

"They only use this place for their meetings." She took off again.

"But you said he kept his files here too. Otherwise what are we doing here?"

"You're right. Better safe than sorry." She slowed down, waiting for me to catch up.

We went up the walk, different kinds of plants and cactus and yellow and purple flowers all around us. Any second, I just knew a bad breath Rottweiler with nasty teeth was gonna come running out of nowhere and snack on my leg.

In a few more ticks, we were facing the cabin. Well, it was about as much a cabin as a classic Jaguar is just a car. The joint was big, two stories and a deck, with a triangle for a roof. There was as much glass as there was wood and stone to the place. A satellite dish was on one part of the roof, and some other kind of antenna was sticking up beside that. It looked like a small radio tower.