"I suspect that the next time, they will invest more money," Pruno said glumly. "Angelina Farino is rebuilding the Farino Family's muscle base, bringing in talent from New Jersey and Brooklyn, but evidently they don't want to have the reemerging Family tied to this particular hit."

Kurtz said nothing. He was thinking about a European hit man known only as the Dane.

"Sooner or later, however, they will remember the old axiom," said Pruno.

"Which one's that?" Kurtz expected a torrent of Latin or Greek. On more than one occasion, he'd left the old man and his friend Soul Dad alone to hash out their arguments in classical languages.

"'If you want a thing done right, do it yourself, " said Pruno. He was glancing at the door of the shack, obviously eager for Kurtz to leave.

"One last question," said Kurtz. "I'm being followed off and on by two homicide cops—Brubaker and Myers. Know anything about them?"

"Detective Fred Brubaker has—in the argot of our time—a major hard-on for you, Joseph. He remains convinced that you were responsible for the demise of his friend and fellow shakedown artist, the late and totally unlamented Sergeant James Hathaway from Homicide."

"I know that," said Kurtz. "What I meant was, have you heard anything about Brubaker tying up with one of the families?"

"No, Joseph, but it should be just a matter of time. Such an association was a major source of income for Detective Hathaway, and Brubaker was always sort of a dull-witted understudy to Hathaway. I wish that I had more optimistic news for you."

Kurtz had said nothing to this. He'd patted the old man's quaking arm and left the shack.

Sitting in the Blues Franklin, waiting for the mysterious Mr. Frears, Kurtz wondered if it was coincidence that the two homicide cops were tailing him again this evening.

Coe Pierce's quartet was just wrapping up a fifteen-minute version of Miles Davis's "All Blues," filled with Oscar Peterson-like solo riffs for Pierce to fool around with on the piano, when Kurtz saw the well-dressed, middle-aged black man coming toward him from across the room. Kurtz was still wearing his peacoat and now he slipped his hand into the right-side pocket and slid the safety off the.40-caliber S&W semiauto there.