bookshelf nearest me and heaved with all my might. The shelf creaked for an endless second and then fell my way, throwing hundreds of books into the air. A shot broke the air and Zoe screamed again as I fought my way through the paperback rain. She was crouched on the floor now, her arms thrown over her face to protect her, and the man in the dark coat was gone.
“Do you know what that was about?” I asked, helping her up. A book on the shelf above her had been blown to bits, a copy of Gray’s Anatomy shot through the heart.
She shook her head. She was crying, breathing in gasps. “I can’t imagine what,” she said. “I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”
“It was a man? What did he look like?”
“I didn’t get a good look,” she said, turning away. “He had a hat on, the light was behind him—he was clean-shaven, about your height. That’s all I know.”
I reached up to stroke the stubble on my cheek. Clean-shaven, about my height—that narrowed it down to about a million guys, just in Bardo City. “All right,” I said. “I guess this was about me. Somebody probably saw you pulling me in here.”
“What should we do?”
“You stay here and close up,” I said. “I’m going to go register my displeasure.”
She grabbed my arm with both hands. “I can’t stay here,” she said. “Not now.”
I looked back into the store, then at her. “Do you have a car?” I asked. She nodded. “Okay, then. You’re going to stay in it.”
She nodded again, two quick jerks.
I took a step towards the door, paused. “Before we go—do you have a copy of the Lotus Sutra, the 1903 British Buddhist Society edition with the missing line on the fifth page?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, throwing a glance at the pile of books on the floor. “Is it important?”
“Probably not.” The door jingled as I opened it for her, and I threw a quick glance left and right before stepping outside.
The lights were on at Falcone’s, neon dancers flickering onto the sad sacks slouched around the door. When the engine cut I opened the door, turned to Zoe. “You coming?”
She frowned. “I thought you wanted me to stay here.”
“Right. Sure, I forgot.” I got out of the car, fixed my gaze on the bouncer at the door to the club. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes send a rescue party.”
“Don’t you carry a gun?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Bad karma.” I shut the car door behind me, cut into the line right in front of the bouncer. He wasn’t that big a guy, an inch or so shorter than a grizzly bear.
Somehow without taking a step he filled the space between me and the door. “There’s a cover.”
“I’m not here for the floor show,” I said. “I need to see Falcone.”
“What’s your name?” he asked. I told him, and he flipped through a little pad that he held in his left hand. “Not on the list,” he said.
“I understand,” I said. “But I need to see Falcone. He’ll be sorry if he misses me.”
The bouncer nodded slowly, then brought his right hand up in a fist against my jaw. Somebody somewhere was uncorking a bottle of champagne. “I don’t think so,” he said.
I took a step back, stopped myself. “Okay,” I said, stepping back up to the bouncer. “But I need to see Falcone.”
“No,” the bouncer said. He put his hand on my chest, flat, and pushed. When he saw I wasn’t going anywhere he swung back and socked me in the stomach. “No,” he repeated.
A cough flew out of me, spattering blood in his direction. I straightened up, kept my hands at my sides. “I need to see Falcone,” I said, my voice a bit slurred.
He drew his fist back, and I flinched. He paused. “You gonna swing back?” he asked. I shook my head. “You one of those guys who likes getting beaten on?”
I shook my head again, regretted it. “I need to see Falcone,” I said again.
A look crossed his face, pity or maybe disgust. His fist was still drawn back, but his posture
“Do you know what that was about?” I asked, helping her up. A book on the shelf above her had been blown to bits, a copy of Gray’s Anatomy shot through the heart.
She shook her head. She was crying, breathing in gasps. “I can’t imagine what,” she said. “I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”
“It was a man? What did he look like?”
“I didn’t get a good look,” she said, turning away. “He had a hat on, the light was behind him—he was clean-shaven, about your height. That’s all I know.”
I reached up to stroke the stubble on my cheek. Clean-shaven, about my height—that narrowed it down to about a million guys, just in Bardo City. “All right,” I said. “I guess this was about me. Somebody probably saw you pulling me in here.”
“What should we do?”
“You stay here and close up,” I said. “I’m going to go register my displeasure.”
She grabbed my arm with both hands. “I can’t stay here,” she said. “Not now.”
I looked back into the store, then at her. “Do you have a car?” I asked. She nodded. “Okay, then. You’re going to stay in it.”
She nodded again, two quick jerks.
I took a step towards the door, paused. “Before we go—do you have a copy of the Lotus Sutra, the 1903 British Buddhist Society edition with the missing line on the fifth page?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, throwing a glance at the pile of books on the floor. “Is it important?”
“Probably not.” The door jingled as I opened it for her, and I threw a quick glance left and right before stepping outside.
The lights were on at Falcone’s, neon dancers flickering onto the sad sacks slouched around the door. When the engine cut I opened the door, turned to Zoe. “You coming?”
She frowned. “I thought you wanted me to stay here.”
“Right. Sure, I forgot.” I got out of the car, fixed my gaze on the bouncer at the door to the club. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes send a rescue party.”
“Don’t you carry a gun?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Bad karma.” I shut the car door behind me, cut into the line right in front of the bouncer. He wasn’t that big a guy, an inch or so shorter than a grizzly bear.
Somehow without taking a step he filled the space between me and the door. “There’s a cover.”
“I’m not here for the floor show,” I said. “I need to see Falcone.”
“What’s your name?” he asked. I told him, and he flipped through a little pad that he held in his left hand. “Not on the list,” he said.
“I understand,” I said. “But I need to see Falcone. He’ll be sorry if he misses me.”
The bouncer nodded slowly, then brought his right hand up in a fist against my jaw. Somebody somewhere was uncorking a bottle of champagne. “I don’t think so,” he said.
I took a step back, stopped myself. “Okay,” I said, stepping back up to the bouncer. “But I need to see Falcone.”
“No,” the bouncer said. He put his hand on my chest, flat, and pushed. When he saw I wasn’t going anywhere he swung back and socked me in the stomach. “No,” he repeated.
A cough flew out of me, spattering blood in his direction. I straightened up, kept my hands at my sides. “I need to see Falcone,” I said, my voice a bit slurred.
He drew his fist back, and I flinched. He paused. “You gonna swing back?” he asked. I shook my head. “You one of those guys who likes getting beaten on?”
I shook my head again, regretted it. “I need to see Falcone,” I said again.
A look crossed his face, pity or maybe disgust. His fist was still drawn back, but his posture
Similar Books
