sitting across the street in the Duster, noted the number of cars in the building's lot and the number of apartments that were lit. He compared these numbers to those he had counted at other times since midaftemoon, when he had started watching. He had been careful-sometimes driving by, sometimes parking a few blocks away and walking, and now parked under a broken streetlight-but he hadn't observed this building for two or three entire days, as was his habit. He had figured that some of the residents would have already left for Christmas vacations, and their apartments would be easy to spot. He had been right. Two apartments on the top floor were staying dark, as were three on the second floor, and one on the first. Two other apartments had lights that had been on since he'd started watching, and he didn't think anyone was home. He would wait a few more hours to be sure. He could turn on the radio now and then to keep from getting bored.
He was listening to a ZZ Top song when the back of his neck tingled. He looked around and saw a man standing under a streetlight in front of the apartment building. The man was wearing a black sweatsuit, and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was pointing at Blackburn and waggling his thumb. It was Roy-Boy.
Blackburn turned off the radio. He gave Roy-Boy a violent sidearm wave, trying to tell him to go away. But Roy-Boy stayed put, still pointing. Someone would drive by and notice him before long. Blackburn changed his wave to a 'come here' gesture, then unzipped his coat and reached inside. He opened the Velcro flap over the Python's pouch.
Roy-Boy jogged across the street, his ponytail bouncing. He had put his hands into his sweatshirt pouch, so Blackburn had to take his own hand out of his coat to let him into the car. The smell of deodorant soap was even stronger than before. Blackburn wondered what Roy-Boy was trying to cover up.
'Evening, Musician,' Roy-Boy said. 'Happy Friday the thirteenth.'
'I was here first,' Blackburn said.
Roy-Boy shook his head. 'I've been watching that building since last Saturday. It's mine.' He grinned. His teeth looked as if they were still stained with chocolate creme from the week before. 'Unless you want to share. Two of the apartments on the top floor are rented by college students who've taken off for winter break. I've heard their stereos, and they sound expensive. They probably have VCRs and Sony Trinitrons too. We could clean 'em both in fifteen minutes, hit my fence in the morning, and be done.'
'I don't use fences,' Blackburn said. 'They're crooks. And I already told you I'm not interested in teamwork. If you've been planning on this place for a week, you can have it. I'll leave.'
Roy-Boy gave his gruntlike chuckle. 'But don't you see, Musician? That won't work now. If you take off with nothing, I'll be afraid that you'll call the cops on me. So in self-defense, I'll make a call of my own after I've done the job. I'll describe you and your car, and when the cops ask the neighbors, some of them'll remember seeing you hanging around. And we've got the same situation in reverse if you stay and I go. One or both of us gets screwed. You know where that leaves us?'
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
'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
