When John Dortmunder and I first teamed up, in 1967, neither of us had any idea what we were letting ourselves in for. In fact, at first, it didn't look as though the partnership would get off the ground.

It all began when my regular guy stood me up. I have been, intermittently, a writer known as Richard Stark, who chronicles the incidents in the life of a character called only Parker. In 1967, Parker refused the role I'd planned for him in what was supposed to have been his next book; he thought it was beneath his dignity. So that's when I first turned, just as a substitute, a temp, a one-time hire, to John Archibald Dortmunder. And all I asked him to do was steal the same emerald six times-piece of cake.

John was willing at first, but after three heists he turned surly and wouldn't play any more, so I put that failed project away and turned to something else, thinking Dortmunder and I were merely a blind date that hadn't panned out. Then, two years later, I came across the partial manuscript in a closet, found Dortmunder in a more accommodating frame of mind now that he'd spent two years in the dark, and together we finished the book. It was called The Hot Rock, and it was published in 1970.

After The Hot Rock and its ensuing movie, in which I was astonished to learn that Dortmunder was Robert Redford, I thought we were quit of each other. I'm sure neither of us ever expected to cross paths again, or to collaborate on what has become as of this writing a total of eleven novels, and we certainly never expected to find ourselves mixed up with short stories.

I'm not quite sure how that latter development came about. Ten years had gone by since I'd finished that first Dortmunder novel, with three more added along the way, when into my head came fragments of an elusive conversation between "an elegant man" and John. It didn't seem to be part of a novel, but then, what was it?