"Aren't they just fabulous?" he said between quaffs from a mug of draft beer.

"Why doesn't he just get fresh ones?" the woman beside him asked.

She was sipping white wine from a smudged tumbler. She grimaced as she swallowed. Julio made a point of stocking the sourest Chardonnay on the market.

"I think he's making a statement," the guy said.

"About what?"

"I haven't the faintest. But don't you just love them?"

Jack knew what the statement was: Callusless people go home. But they didn't see it. Julio was purposely rude to them, and he'd instructed his help to follow his lead, but it didn't work. The dinks thought it was a put-on, part of the ambience. They ate it up.

Jack stepped over the length of rope that closed off the back half of the seating area and dropped into his usual booth in the darkened rear. As Julio came out from behind the bar, the blond dink flagged him down.

"Can we get a table back there?"

"No," Julio said.

The muscular little man brushed by him and nodded to Jack on his way to bus the empty glasses. Jack signaled for a Yuengling.

"Hey, Jack."

Jack looked up to see Russ Tuit stepping over the cord and approaching.

"Russ," he said, shaking his hand. "A little far from home, aren't you?" He lived over on Second Avenue.

"Need to talk to you."

Jack had his back against the wall and indicated a chair opposite him.

"Looking for work?"

Russ was Jack's go-to guy for all things cyber-legal or not so legal. He'd done time for hacking a bank and was still on probation.

He smiled. "Believe it or not, I'm gainfully employed. Full time too. And you'll never guess by who."

"The feds."

Russ's face fell. "How… how…?"

Jack had to laugh. "Well, you said I'd never guess, so I figured the least likely people to hire a federal felon would be the feds. What've they got you doing-hacking citizens?"