The car leaned hard into the curve and before it had a chance to right itself came to a rocking stop.

Benny Tapkow sat back in his seat “I’m not telling you again,” he said. He had a quiet voice. “Next time like that and you’re through.”

“You said to make time,” the driver said. “All I was trying-”

“Try to shut up. I said drive fast. I didn’t say stop fast.”

The driver didn’t give an answer because he wasn’t expected to have one.

Benny swung the car door open and jumped to the sidewalk. With a careful movement he gave his hat a small adjustment, feeling along the high crown and the wide brim. It was a big hat and he wore it square over his ears and forehead, as if wearing it were a feat of balance.

Then he walked down the street When Benny Tapkow moved, it was like a tight spring moving, as if there were a lot of power that had to be used up.

He walked past a couple of stores and turned into a place that said, “While U Wait.” He walked past the shoeshine boy, the man who blocked hats behind the counter, and then around the steam press in the back. Nobody said anything. They listened to the sharp click of his heels and watched him disappear through the door in the back.

It was a crumby office. The roll-top desk was stuffed with junk and there were blocking forms and bottles of cleaning fluid all over the floor.

“Hi, Louie.” Benny let the door slam shut and stopped by the desk. “You got it?”

“Sure.” Louie gave himself a tired push and got up. He was flabby and short. Benny could look him straight in the face without looking up. He couldn’t do that with many people.

“This way,” Louie said. He led the way through another door and into a room with a safe, two tables, and a dozen telephones. “You’re kinda early.” Louie wheezed and let himself down on one knee in front of the safe. “Paddy never used to get here till late.” Louie dialed the combination.