Blackburn was keeping his eyes on Roy-Boy's, but his right hand was creeping back into his coat. He didn't want to shoot Roy-Boy while they were inside the Duster, but he would if he had to.

"Where?" he asked.

"MAD," Roy-Boy said. "As in mutual assured destruction." His right hand came out of the sweatshirt pouch with the.22. He pointed it at Blackburn's face.

Blackburn froze with his hand on the Python's butt.

"This is how I see it," Roy-Boy said. "I have the advantage, but I'd have to waste you instantly, with one shot, or suffer retaliation. In other words, although you might be mortally wounded, you could still do me with your superior weapon. So our only choices are to work together or be destroyed. You feel like being destroyed?"

"No," Blackburn said. He saw Roy-Boy's point. "I'll work with you this one time, but I can't promise anything else. I still want to leave town."

Roy-Boy nodded. "Fair enough. We've achieved diplomatic relations. Now comes the disarmament phase. Take out your pistol, slow. You can point it at me if you want, but I'll be watching your hand. If the fingers start to flex, I'll shoot. MAD, get it?"

Blackburn pulled out the Python and held it so that it pointed down at his own crotch.

"Careful or you'll wind up like me," Roy-Boy said. "A one-ball wonder. Of course, mine's the size of an orange."

"Mine aren't. I'd just as soon keep them both."

"Then put your gun on the seat between us. I'll do the same. Our hands should touch, so we'll each know if the other doesn't let go of his weapon. This is known as the verification phase." Roy-Boy turned his pistol so that it pointed downward. "Begin now."

They moved as slow as sloths. The pistols clicked together on the vinyl seat. The men's hands touched. Blackburn waited until he felt Roy-Boy's hand begin to rise, and then he lifted his own hand as well.

"So far so good," Roy-Boy said. "Where's your tote bag?"

"Under the seat."

Roy-Boy clucked his tongue. "I can't have you reaching under there. We'll have to find a grocery sack or something in the apartment. That acceptable to you?"

"I suppose so."

"In that case," Roy-Boy said, "we can get out of the car. Doors open at the same time."

"We can't leave the guns on the seat," Blackburn said. "Someone'll see them."

"No, they won't. Once we're outside, take off your coat and throw it back inside to cover them. That'll also assure me that you aren't packing another piece."

"What's to assure me that you aren't?"

"Good point. Okay, as you take off your coat, I'll take off my sweatshirt. The pants too, if you want. I'm just wearing shorts and a T-shirt underneath."

Blackburn took his keys from the ignition. "All right," he said. "Lock your door on the way out." He and Roy-Boy opened the doors and got out. Blackburn took off his coat while watching Roy-Boy pull off his sweatshirt on the other side of the car. It was like a weird dance. Cars going by on the street illuminated the performance with their headlights. Roy-Boy's face went from light to dark to light again, and then disappeared as the sweatshirt came up over his head. But even while Roy-Boy's head was inside the sweatshirt, the eyes were visible through the neck opening. They didn't blink.

Blackburn tossed his coat into the car, covering the pistols. Roy-Boy tossed his sweatshirt in on top of the coat. Then they closed the doors. The Duster shuddered.

"What's in your shirt pocket?" Roy-Boy asked.

"Penlight."

"Okay. It's a tool of the trade, so keep it. Now put your keys away, and we can meet at the rear bumper. It'll be our Geneva."

Blackburn put his keys into a jeans pocket, and he and Roy-Boy walked behind the car. Blackburn was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but he was cold. He crossed his arms for warmth. Roy-Boy's gray T-shirt was cut off at the midriff, but he seemed comfortable. His bare arms swung at his sides. When the two men met at the bumper, Roy-Boy held out his right hand. Blackburn kept his arms crossed.

"Pants," he said.

Roy-Boy shucked off his sweatpants and turned around to show Blackburn that he was unarmed. His legs were pale and hairless. They looked shaved.

"That's enough," Blackburn said, suppressing revulsion.

Roy-Boy pulled his sweatpants back on, then held out his hand again. "Ratify our treaty," he said, "and I won't ask you to take off your pants too. I'll believe that your moral code won't allow you to hide a second weapon from me. That ruler in your back pocket I'll let go, since it's a tool of the trade too."

They shook hands. Roy-Boy's was dry and cold. He held on too long. Blackburn pulled free.

Roy-Boy looked across the street at the apartment building. "Top floor, second unit," he said. It was one of the apartments that had stayed dark. "Two bedrooms. Its collegiate occupants have gone home to Daddy for Jesus' birthday and left all their shit behind."

"Jewelry first," Blackburn said. "Then I'll help you carry one big thing, and that's all. Once I'm out, I'm not going back in. And my car's not for hire to haul freight. You have a vehicle?"

"Yeah. That black Toyota in the lot. Yesterday its former owner rode away in a car with snow skis on top. So it's mine now."

Blackburn couldn't object. He had stolen cars himself, and didn't think he was in any position to cast a stone.

Blackburn and Roy-Boy crossed the street and climbed the stairs that zigzagged up the face of the building. It was almost midnight, but TVs and stereos were turned up loud in some of the lighted apartments. Blackburn was glad. Two burglars would make more noise than one, but the ambient sound might cover it. And every apartment's drapes were closed, so none of the residents would see them.

They reached the top balcony and apartment 302. "You're the front-door specialist," Roy-Boy whispered.

Blackburn tried the knob. The door had a half inch of play. As at his last burglary, the deadbolt hadn't been set. People who didn't set their deadbolts were asking to be robbed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the metal ruler. In a few seconds the door popped open, and Blackburn and Roy-Boy went inside.

Blackburn took the penlight from his shirt pocket and turned it on. The pale circle of light revealed that the apartment was well furnished. A thick carpet muffled the men's footsteps.

"Ooh, lookee here," Roy-Boy said. "A Sony Trinitron. Tell you what-I have great night vision, so I don't need the light. I'll unhook the TV cable and look around in here, and you see what you can find in the other rooms."

Blackburn couldn't think of a reason against the plan, so he went into the blue-tiled kitchen and took a black plastic trash bag from a roll under the sink. Then he stepped into the hall. Here the penlight revealed four doors, two on each side. The first door on the right was open, and he saw more blue tile. The bathroom. He opened the door across from it and found a linen closet stacked with towels. It smelled like a department store, so he leaned inside and breathed deep. It wasn't a smell he was crazy about, but it cleared his head of Roy-Boy's deodorant-soap stink.

He continued down the hall and opened the next door on the right. This was a small bedroom, as clean as a church. There was a brass cross on the wall and stuffed animals on the dresser. The window was open, and Blackburn's neck tingled from the cold. White curtains puffed out over the narrow bed. The bed had a white coverlet with a design of pink and blue flowers.

A jewelry box on the dresser contained only a small silver cross on a chain. It was worth maybe thirty dollars at a pawn shop, but Blackburn left it. He himself had given up on Jesus while still a child, having seen more evidence of sin than of salvation, but he didn't want to mess with someone else's devotion. He found nothing else of value in the room, so he started back into the hall. Then he paused in the doorway.