'You going to run the town?' Tony said.
The Gray Man had his fingers tented in front of him, tapping his chin lightly.
'Until the mayor returns…'
Tony snorted.
'Or until a new mayor is duly chosen by the electorate.'
'Or the city is in receivership,' I said.
'But for now,' the Gray Man said, and smiled faintly, 'I am in control here at City Hall.'
'So let's talk about plans,' Tony said.
Sitting beside Tony, Rimbaud was jiggling his knee.
'You wouldn't be in City Hall,' Rimbaud said, 'wasn't for us.'
Tony glanced at Rimbaud for a long, silent moment.
I did my always-popular Bogart impression.
'All the son-in-laws, in all the world…'
'What's that mean?' Rimbaud said.
'Means you need to be quiet,' Tony said to him.
He looked back at the Gray Man.
'I want Brock to run the street business,' he said.
Again, the Gray Man smiled fleetingly. Things amused him. But not a whole lot. He nodded.
'You met the supervisor?' Hawk said.
'You're so sure there is one?' the Gray Man said.
'You meet him?' Hawk said.
The Gray Man picked up the phone and spoke into it briefly.
In a moment, a door opened to the left of the polyethylene drapes and a tall handsome man came in, wearing a good charcoal-gray pin-striped suit. He had a nice short beard with gray in it, and his hair was longish and combed back over his ears.
'This is Mr. Johnson,' the Gray Man said.
'A fine old Afghani name,' I said.
Mr. Johnson smiled and walked to a couch to the right of the mayor's desk and sat down. He crossed his legs. He was wearing low black boots with silver buckles.
'It is a name which serves,' he said.
There was no hint of any accent. He spoke English with the regionless precision of a television announcer. He glanced at the Gray Man.
'Like Mayor McKean's name,' he said.
'Mr. Johnson,' the Gray Man said, 'represents our Afghani partners.'
'My duties are consultive,' he said. 'Enhancing the product flow, one might say.'
'How's it been flowing lately,' Tony said.
'It has been a contentious time,' Mr. Johnson said. 'But the product has flowed.'
'And keeps flowing?' Tony said.
'So far,' Johnson said.
'Because of you?' Tony said.
'All of us have helped,' Johnson said modestly. 'I try to stay in the background, not call attention to myself. As you might well understand. I am not comfortable making myself known to so many people.'
He looked around the room.
'But the mayor insisted,' he said. 'And the nature of the current situation…'
He made a small, graceful gesture with his manicured left hand, the nails gleaming, and dropped it back into his lap, where it resumed being motionless. Calm. There is calm that's dense, full of stuff kept motionless. Like Hawk's. And there's calm which is merely the absence of anything else. Like the Gray Man's. To me, Johnson seemed more like the Gray Man.
'The current situation is me,' Tony said. 'My son-in-law is going to run things for me.'
Johnson's dark eyes rested silently on Brock for a time.
'Really?' Johnson said finally.
'Really, really, pal,' Brock said. 'This sucker's going to be a cash-fucking-cow.'
Johnson nodded slowly.
