Frank had been looking to upgrade security at the Skylight since he took over from Tasso. It was one of The Cardinal’s key establishments, where many of his staff and clients stayed when in town. But unlike Party Central — which was pretty much impregnable — it was poorly guarded. The Cardinal liked it that way — it made his guests feel more relaxed — but Frank, who took the flak whenever anything went wrong, hated the setup.

“Guess he’ll be bitching at us all week,” I sighed.

“We’ve already had a day of it,” Jerry said. “Yesterday will go down as one of the biggest pain-in-the-ass Mondays in history. You were lucky you missed it.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, checking his watch and drinking up, “but it’ll be even worse if we’re late today. Slightest excuse, he’ll be on our case. Let’s split.”

“But we’ve half an hour yet,” I protested.

“You think Frank will give a shit?” Mike replied. “I was ten minutes early yesterday and almost got my marching orders.”

“Great to be back,” I grumbled, finished my coffee and grabbed the last slice of toast. “OK if I stick my bike in the back of the van and come with you guys?”

Jerry’s got a soft spot for his van and normally vetoes such requests. But he took pity on me this once and helped me load it in, making sure I didn’t scratch the paint.

Frank spotted us entering and made a production of checking the clock in the downstairs locker room of Party Central. We were a good eighteen minutes ahead of schedule.

“Come in this time again,” he growled, “and it’ll be to pick up your personals.”

While Frank stormed out to berate latecomers, we got into uniform. Dark blue pants and jacket, light blue shirt (a similarly shaded sweater for cooler seasons). Green-blue beret.