No, Zorra said again.
What now?
Your friend Win. Zorra assumes he's close by.
Who?
Zorra smiled. He-she wasn't pretty. Lots of transves tiies are. Lots of times you can't even tell.
But Zorra had a five o'clock shadow (a look Myron found to be less than alluring in a woman),
big hands with hairy knuckles (ditto), a skewered wig (call him picky), a rather masculine,
whispery voice (comme ci, comme ?a) and despite the outer trappings, Zorra looked like, well, a
guy wearing a dress. Don't insult Zorra's intelligence, dreamboat.
You see him?
If Zorra could, Zorra said, then someone has grossfy overexaggerated his reputation.
So what makes you so sure Win's here?
You're doing it again, Zorra said.
Doing what?
Insulting Zorra's intelligence.
Nothing like a psycho who refers to himself in the third person.
Please ask him to come forward, Zorra said. We have no interest in hurting anyone. But Zorra
knows that your colleague will follow wherever you go. Then Zorra will have to follow him. It
will lead to conflict. None of us wants that.
Win's voice came from Myron's cell phone. Must have taken off the mute. What guarantee do
we have that Myron will return?
Myron lifted the cell phone into view.
You and Zorra will sit and enjoy a drink, dreamboat, Zorra said into the phone. Myron will
travel with Pat.
Travel where? Myron asked.
We can't tell you.
Myron frowned. Is this cloak-and-dagger stuff really necessary?
Pat leaned back now, letting Zorra handle it. You have questions, we have questions, Zorra
said. This meeting is the only way to satisfy both.
So why can't we talk here?
Impossible.
Why?
You have to go with Pat.
Where?
Zorra cannot tell you.
Who are you taking me to see?
Zorra cannot tell you that either.
Myron said, Does the fate of the free world rest in Zorra's maintaining silence?
Zorra adjusted his lips, forming what he probably read someplace was known as a smile. You
mock Zorra. But Zorra has kept silent before. Zorra has seen horrors you cannot imagine. Zorra
has been tortured. For weeks on end. Zorra has felt pain that makes what you felt with that cattle
prod seem like a lover's kiss.
Myron nodded solemnly. Wow, he said.
Zorra spread his hands. Hairy knuckles and pink nail polish. Hold me back. We can always
choose to part ways, dreamboat.
From the cell phone Win said, Good idea.
Myron lifted the receiver. What?
If we agree to their terms, Win said, I cannot guarantee they won't kill you.
Zorra guarantees it, Zorra said. With her life.
Myron said, Excuse me?
Zorra stays here with Win, Zorra went on, the glint in the overmascaraed eye sparkling anew.
Something was there, and it was not lucidity. Zorra will be unarmed. If you don't return in
perfect health, Win kills Zorra.
Heck of a guarantee, Myron said. Ever thought about becoming a car mechanic?
Win entered the bar now. He walked straight toward the table, sat down, hands under it. If you'd
be so kind, Win said to Zorra and Pat, please put all hands on the table.
They did.
And, Ms. Zorra, if you wouldn't mind kicking off your heels?
Sure, dreamboat. Win kept his eyes on Zorra. Zorra kept his on Win. There would be no
blinking here. Win said, I still cannot guarantee his safety. Yes, I have the option of killing you
if he does not return. But for all I know, Pat the Bunny here doesn't give a rodent's buttocks
about you.
Hey, Pat said, you have my word.
Win just looked at him for a moment. Then he turned back to Zorra. Myron goes armed. Pat
drives. Myron keeps the gun on him.
Zorra shook his head. Impossible.
Then we have no deal.
Zorra shrugged. Then Zorra and Pat must bid you adieu.
They rose to leave. Myron knew that Win wouldn't call them back. He whispered to Win, I need
to know what's going on here.
Win shrugged. It's a mistake, he said, but it's your call.
Myron looked up. We agree, he said.
Zorra sat back down. Under the table Win kept the gun on him.
Myron keeps his cell phone on, Win said. I listen to every word.
Zorra nodded. Fair enough.
Pat and Myron started to leave.
Oh, Pat? Win said.
Pat stopped.
Win's voice was how's-the-weather casual. If Myron isn't returned, I may or may not kill Zorra.
I will decide at the appropriate time. Either way, I will use all my considerable influence and money and time and effort to find you. I will offer rewards. I will search. I will not sleep. I will find you. And when I do, I won't kill you. Do you understand?
Pat swallowed, nodded. Go, Win said.
Chapter 25
When they reached the car, Pat frisked him. Nothing. Then he handed Myron a black hood. Put this on.
Myron made a face. Tell me you're joking.
Put it on. Then lie down in the backseat. Don't look up.
Myron rolled his eyes, but he did as he was asked. His six-four frame wasn't all that comfortable, but he made do. Big of him. Pat got in the front seat and started the car.
Quick suggestion, Myron said.
What did you say?
Next time you do this, try vacuuming out the car first. It's disgusting back here.
Pat drove. Myron tried to concentrate, listening for sounds that would give him a clue where they were going. That always worked on TV. The guy would hear, say, a boat horn and know he'd gone to Pier 12 or something, and they'd all rush in and find him. But all Myron heard were, not surprisingly; traffic noises: the occasional horn, cars passing or being passed, loud radios, that kind of thing. He tried to keep track of turns and distances but quickly realized the futility. What did he think he was, a human compass?
The drive lasted maybe ten minutes. Not enough time to leave the city. Clue: He was still in Manhattan. Gee, that was helpful. Pat turned off the engine.
