What is he doing? — Ryder wiping his sloppy mouth, the gorilla behind me not moving a muscle and neither can I, and the other-knife? No. Fountain pen? I should sign them a document?

“I left standing orders, Ryder, I told you once, that should I get roughed up…”

“No violence, Quinn. Look.”

Damn, this grip on my back, my arms like worms, and the waiting, the waiting, and why don’t you hit-ah, the other one heard me think, coming over “Ryder, for God’s sake-”

“Doesn’t hurt, Quinn. Just a little sting.”

And the man comes over and carries the syringe and a needle. A small, cold-looking thing like that and I’ve never been so scared in my life.

“Ryder, what in hell- ”

“No violence, Quinn, nothing like it. But you’ll end up a changed man.”

“Where’ll I put it?” said the one with the needle.

“Any place. What’s the difference?”

“Come on already,” said the one holding Quinn doubled over. “He’s trying to struggle or something.”

“Ryder! What is it? ”

“Trip around the world for you, Quinn. In a coffin. Ever hear of the method?”

“My God, Ryder-”

“You’ll be a changed man, Quinn. Maybe a better one. Give it to him, Jimmy.”

Ryder, for heaven’s sake-and I didn’t even feel it, didn’t feel anything at the start of such an important-Letting go of me now? You let go too soon. Watch what I mean by you let go too soon-too thick this air, too thick in the brain, but you, Ryder, I get you, don’t float away, Ryder, oh my God please don’t leave…

“How he sweats.”

“But he’s lying still now. Put the fan in the door, Marie.”

“Mercy, how that sirocco screams.”

“Not yet, really. It will get worse…”

Dead. Dead? Nonsense. I wouldn’t ask if I were. But this nonsense of not knowing what’s up or down. Drug in the head explains it, explains everything.