The Caffe Reggio has been in business since 1927. The interior is decorated in antiques and art, which is probably why I enjoy it so much. Even though they were the first cafe in the states to serve cappuccino, I think they have the best black coffee that I have ever tasted.

The waitress returns with my coffee. I order a Panini with fresh mozzarella, basil and sundried tomatoes along with a mint iced tea. Someone has left today's copy of the New York Times on the bench next to me.

Let's see… "Rising Gas Prices Give G.O.P. Issue to Attack Obama, Santorum Mocks Romney Over Olympics, Tax Cut Extension Passes, In Maryland, House Passes Bill to Let Gays Wed". Same shit, different day. Politicians, the biggest whores in the world. Biggest thieves, for that matter!

The sandwich is delicious. I finish, pay my tab and step outside. Pull a 6 x 60 from my pocket, start to chew on it and head uptown on foot to Penn Station. It's finally time to play catch up. I pull the cell out and dial a number that I know from heart.

"It's me."

"Oh, shit, Picker. Where the hell have you been? Where are you?"

"New York. Got shanghaied".

"Well, in that case, get your sorry ass back here. Now!"

"Tell me what's up?"

"What's up? I'll tell you what's up! Doo Wop is dead and Millie is missing!"

September 1973 Paris

The two men sat at the outdoor cafe.

"Le travail merveilleux, mon ami. Our friends are very pleased with the work that you have performed for them."

The Cafe de Flore pavement tables were once the favorite rendezvous of Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. It was in the mid-seventies and a handful of clouds dotted the sky.

Aronson lit his Cuban cigar, a Romeo and Juliet Churchill. "Good, I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of the Russkaya Mafiya."