'No.'
'You play poker?'
'I do.'
So I divided up the silver coins and briefly explained the machine to Lisa, and we played slot machine poker. They should have a slot game called Sucker. You get a row of five suckers and the machine kicks you in the nuts and swallows all the coins in your tray.
We each got a drink from a passing waitress, and I inhaled the secondhand smoke of a catatonic fat lady sitting next to me.
Anyway, we were up and down, and Lisa was getting into it, hoping to retire early on the Zillion Dollar Jackpot. Meanwhile, Big Bird is sinking deeper into the fires of hell with each spin of the wheel. I had to save him.
After about half an hour, Big Bird cashed out and got up. He drifted over to the blackjack tables, then hesitated and decided to go somewhere else.
Lisa got four kings and the machine chimed and disgorged a stream of coins into her tray.
I said to her, 'Big Bird is moving. Stay here and play my machine. Call the Special Ops team and tell them I've got him.'
She glanced around, noticing her surroundings, then said, 'Okay…'
I headed across the casino floor, hoping that Big Bird would head to the elevators, or the men's room, or the boardwalk-any place where we could be alone for a chat.
He walked like he needed to take a leak, and sure enough he headed out toward the restrooms. I followed him into a corridor and saw him go through the men's room door. I followed.
These guys don't piss at the urinal-they like privacy when they pull out their pee-pees-and Big Bird was in one of the stalls.
There were two guys at the urinals and one at the sink. Very quietly and diplomatically, I showed my creds and asked them to move out quickly, and I asked one of them to stand outside and keep people out.
They all exited, and I stood at the sink, looking in the mirror. The stall door opened-without a flush. In fact, Big Bird didn't even go to the sinks.
I turned and he gave me a glance and I could tell he didn't recognize me. But then he made his move. He suddenly rushed me and somehow managed to smash his balls into my fist. Well, that took me by surprise, and I stepped back as he made his next aggressive move, which was to sink to his knees and make threatening groans at me. His eyes were rolling like the wheels on a slot machine, and then he slumped forward and lay on the floor, breathing hard, ready to attack again. I didn't want to cause an international incident, so I excused myself by saying, 'Fuck you,' and left.
Out in the corridor, I released my deputy and went back into the casino, where I ran into Lisa, who was carrying a plastic container filled with tokens. She asked me, 'Where were you?'
'Men's room.'
'Where's Big-'
'Time to go.'
We headed toward the lobby, and she asked me, 'What do I do with these tokens?'
'Give them to accounting.'
We got outside and headed toward the SUV.
Lisa asked, 'What happened? Where's Big Bird?'
The less she knew, the better for her, of course, so I said, 'Men's room.'
She asked, 'Who's covering him? Is he moving?'
'Uh… not too much.'
'John-'
'Call the SO team and report his last location.'
We got to the SUV and I said I'd drive. She gave me the keys, we got in, and I pulled away.
Lisa called the surveillance team and told them I'd left Big Bird in the men's room, which they already knew. She listened, then signed off and said to me, 'Big Bird… had a fall or something.'
'Slippery when wet.'
I headed out of town toward the Jersey Turnpike.
After a few minutes, she asked me, 'Did you… have an encounter with him?'
'Hey, how'd we do? What do you have there?'
She glanced at the container on the floor and said, 'I think we won ten bucks.'
'Not bad for an hour's work.'
She stayed silent, then said, 'Well… I suppose he's not in a good position to make a complaint.'
I didn't reply.
We got onto the Turnpike northbound toward the city, which was about 130 miles away, less than two hours if I pushed it. The sun was below the horizon and the western sky was rapidly fading into darkness.
Lisa asked, 'Are we, like, on the lam?'
'No. We are the law.'
'Right.' She added, 'They told me I'd learn a lot from you.'
'Am I a legend?'
'In your own mind.' She then observed, 'You seem like a nice guy and you're smart. But you have another side to you.'
I didn't reply.
She further observed, 'You're into payback.'
'Well, if I am, I'm in the right business.'
She had no response to that, and we continued on in silence.
Awhile later, she said to me, 'If something comes up about tonight, you were never out of my sight.'
I assured her, 'Nothing will come up. But thanks.'
'And maybe you'll do the same for me someday.'
'No maybes about it.'
She glanced at me, then stared out the windshield at the dark road ahead. She said, as if to herself, 'This is a tough business.'
And what was your first clue? I replied, 'And getting tougher.'
She nodded, then said, 'Good.'
I stopped at a turnpike rest area, and Lisa Sims got her muffin, I got gas, and we both got coffees to go.
Back on the road, we talked mostly about living in New York, and a little about me being at the Towers when they were hit. It changes you. Seeing thousands of people die changes you.
We took the Holland Tunnel into Manhattan, and I dropped her off at 26 Fed, where she had some work to do. I reminded her, 'Give the tokens to accounting.'
I continued on to my apartment on East 72nd and got in the door a little after 10 P.M.
Kate was home, watching the ten o'clock news, and she asked me, 'How did it go?'
'Okay. The target went down to AC and we followed.'
'Drink?'
'Sure.' I asked, 'How did your day go?'
'Office all day.'
We made drinks, clinked, smooched, and sat down and watched the news together.
I was waiting for a story about an Iranian U.N. diplomat who was found in the men's room of the Taj Mahal Casino with his nuts stuck in his throat, but apparently this was not going to be a news item.
We shut off the TV, and Kate and I chatted about our day of fighting the war on terrorism. After exhausting that subject, she reminded me that we were going upstate for the weekend-skydiving.
This was not my favorite subject, though she was excited about it.
Aside from the fact that I don't like trees and woods and bears and whatever else is north of the Bronx, I damned sure don't like jumping out of planes. I have no particular fear of heights or even death, but I see no reason to put myself in danger for fun. I mean, I get enough danger on my job. And all the fun I want. Like tonight.
But I'm a good guy and a good husband, so I've taken up skydiving. And in the spirit of quid pro quo-as the
