"They are prepared to go all the way with it."

"I'm sure they are."

"I... I can't promise where I'll come down on this issue, Jess."

"I know where you'll come down, Morris," Jesse said gently.

"Without Kay's support and Charlie's money, you can't get elected, and being a selectman in Paradise is the only thing you ever achieved. Otherwise you're just a badly dressed inconsequential dork."

"Jess, you got no business talking to me that way."

"And you'll be trying to get me fired, so Kay Hopkins will be grateful and Charlie Hopkins will help you keep your job and you won't have to go on welfare."

"Jess, damn it, don't you see I'm trying to talk some sense here?

You resign. I'll see that you get an excellent recommendation, anywhere you apply."

"There's a couple things, Morris. It will be hard to fire me. Talk with Nick Petrocelli about that. And two, I'm like you. I'm only good at one thing, and this is it. If I'm not doing this, what the hell am I? A guy with a drinking problem that can't get his marriage straightened out."

"I thought you were divorced," Comden said.

"So I'm not going to resign," Jesse said.

"Just like you, I'm going to hang on as hard as I can to the only thing that seems to work in my life."

"Well, you don't leave me much choice, Jess."

"I don't have any to leave you, Morris."

"I wish it wasn't this way, Jess."

"Sure."

Comden had risen and was standing uneasily. He had every intention of being tough as nails. But he felt as if Jesse's stare was pushing him backward.

"I hope we're not enemies, Jess."

"The hell we're not," Jesse said.

"We're both just trying to do our job," Comden said.

"Think about it anyway you want, Morris. We're enemies, and I don't want you in my office anymore."

Comden opened his mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, stood there open-mouthed for an indecisive moment, and then turned and went out. Jesse sat staring after him.

"And if you keep calling me Jess," he said out loud in the empty office, "I'll cut off whatever small balls you have."

Comden didn't hear him, but Jesse liked saying it anyway. It made him smile to himself in the quiet office.

THIRTY-EIGHT.

He had them together in Faye's living room for the last meeting.

"You got the bridge rigged?" Macklin said to Fran.

"Yep, JD and I been under there all week."

"How long will it take you to blow?"

"From the time you say go? A minute."

"Yacht club landing?"

"Yep. Pretended I was working on a boat."

"How about the phone lines?" Macklin said.

"Same thing," JD said.

"I hit the cut-off switch, and they're dead."

"Which kills the alarms."

"Yes. But it won't kill cell phones," JD said.

"Or car phones. You can't cut the island off completely. Somebody's going to make a call."

"It's about odds, JD," Macklin said.

"It'll probably be a while before anyone gets to a cell phone. We try to buy as much time as we can before they find out. When they do find out, if we're not done then, Fran dumps the bridge. Then it'll be another while until they can get boats organized. And it's a lot easier to keep the cops pinned down if they're coming in a boat. Sooner or later they'll get there.

But we only need about twenty-four hours. And if we have to, we buy time with hostages. Everything we're doing is temporary. We delay them for a day. We buy ourselves twenty-four hours, and we can clean the island out and be gone. I like our odds."

At the periphery of the group, which was where he always was, Faye thought, Crow smiled slightly, as if he knew a joke no one else knew.

"I don't like our odds," JD said.

"Well, of course," Macklin said.

"Nobody likes odds, for cris sake Everybody likes a sure thing. But there isn't any sure thing.

All there is are good chances and bad ones. This is a good chance.

A good chance here to be rich for the rest of our lives. Is that worth taking a run at?"

"I got four kids," Fran said.

"And you got a chance to make them rich," Macklin said.

"We got a great plan, we got the best guys for the job, and it's time to do it."

No one said anything. Crow was still smiling slightly.

"Can't have anybody pulling out now," Macklin said.

"Nobody's pulling out," Fran said.

"

"Course not," Macklin said.

"Just the pre combat jitters before we hit the beach."

Faye realized suddenly that Crow was looking at her. She met his look, and she realized that he knew what she knew. She knew that Jimmy was never the planner he thought he was, that now he was riding the crest of a manic wave that would sweep him right into the operation. She had tried over the months to rein him in and keep him grounded, but she knew finally she couldn't. He loved the action too much. He loved to be the leader. He loved to think of himself as a kind of master strategist, coolly going into battle with exactly the right troops, with every detail meticulously covered, with the enemy outwitted. But she knew better. Jimmy managed to get the feeling without actually doing it. Like masturbation. And she realized for the first time that Crow knew the same thing she did. That Jimmy was maybe more George Custer than U. S. Grant. Mostly he got by on craziness and courage. The sandwich platter was empty, and Faye picked it up and took it to the kitchen. Crow drifted out behind her and got some ice from the freezer and added it to his glass. He leaned on the counter and sipped his drink.