"We want to take you for a ride."

"Damn."

"What?"

"You'd gone nearly three minutes without a mob cliche. Then you come up with the take a ride bit. It's sad really. Can I powder my nose first?"

"You want to crack wise or you want to come with us?"

"I can do both," Myron said. "I'm rather multi-talented."

Pat shook his head. "Let's go." Myron started to slide out the booth.

"No," Zorra said.

Everyone stopped. "What's wrong?" Pat said.

Zorra looked at Myron. "We are not interested in hurting you," Zorra said.

More reassurances.

"But we can't let you know where you're going, dreamboat. You'll have to be blindfolded."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"Fine, blindfold me. Let's go."

"No," Zorra said again.

"What now?"

"Your friend Win. Zorra assumes he's close by."

"Who?"

Zorra smiled. He-she wasn't pretty. Lots of transves tiies are. Lots of times you can't even tell. But Zorra had a five o'clock shadow (a look Myron found to be less than alluring in a woman), big hands with hairy knuckles (ditto), a skewered wig (call him picky), a rather masculine, whispery voice (comme ci, comme?a) and despite the outer trappings, Zorra looked like, well, a guy wearing a dress. "Don't insult Zorra's intelligence, dreamboat."

"You see him?"

"If Zorra could," Zorra said, "then someone has grossfy overexaggerated his reputation."

"So what makes you so sure Win's here?"

"You're doing it again," Zorra said.

"Doing what?"

"Insulting Zorra's intelligence."

Nothing like a psycho who refers to himself in the third person.

"Please ask him to come forward," Zorra said. "We have no interest in hurting anyone. But Zorra knows that your colleague will follow wherever you go. Then Zorra will have to follow him. It will lead to conflict. None of us wants that."

Win's voice came from Myron's cell phone. Must have taken off the mute. "What guarantee do we have that Myron will return?"

Myron lifted the cell phone into view.

"You and Zorra will sit and enjoy a drink, dreamboat," Zorra said into the phone. "Myron will travel with Pat."

"Travel where?" Myron asked.

"We can't tell you."

Myron frowned. "Is this cloak-and-dagger stuff really necessary?"

Pat leaned back now, letting Zorra handle it. "You have questions, we have questions," Zorra said. "This meeting is the only way to satisfy both."

"So why can't we talk here?"

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"You have to go with Pat."

"Where?"

"Zorra cannot tell you."

"Who are you taking me to see?"

"Zorra cannot tell you that either."

Myron said, "Does the fate of the free world rest in Zorra's maintaining silence?"

Zorra adjusted his lips, forming what he probably read someplace was known as a smile. "You mock Zorra. But Zorra has kept silent before. Zorra has seen horrors you cannot imagine. Zorra has been tortured. For weeks on end. Zorra has felt pain that makes what you felt with that cattle prod seem like a lover's kiss."

Myron nodded solemnly. "Wow," he said.

Zorra spread his hands. Hairy knuckles and pink nail polish. Hold me back. "We can always choose to part ways, dreamboat."

From the cell phone Win said, "Good idea."

Myron lifted the receiver. "What?"

"If we agree to their terms," Win said, "I cannot guarantee they won't kill you."

"Zorra guarantees it," Zorra said. "With her life."

Myron said, "Excuse me?"

"Zorra stays here with Win," Zorra went on, the glint in the overmascaraed eye sparkling anew. Something was there, and it was not lucidity. "Zorra will be unarmed. If you don't return in perfect health, Win kills Zorra."

"Heck of a guarantee," Myron said. "Ever thought about becoming a car mechanic?"

Win entered the bar now. He walked straight toward the table, sat down, hands under it. "If you'd be so kind," Win said to Zorra and Pat, "please put all hands on the table."

They did.

"And, Ms. Zorra, if you wouldn't mind kicking off your heels?"

"Sure, dreamboat." Win kept his eyes on Zorra. Zorra kept his on Win. There would be no blinking here. Win said, "I still cannot guarantee his safety. Yes, I have the option of killing you if he does not return. But for all I know, Pat the Bunny here doesn't give a rodent's buttocks about you."

"Hey," Pat said, "you have my word."

Win just looked at him for a moment. Then he turned back to Zorra. "Myron goes armed. Pat drives. Myron keeps the gun on him."

Zorra shook his head. "Impossible."

"Then we have no deal."

Zorra shrugged. "Then Zorra and Pat must bid you adieu."

They rose to leave. Myron knew that Win wouldn't call them back. He whispered to Win, "I need to know what's going on here."

Win shrugged. "It's a mistake," he said, "but it's your call."

Myron looked up. "We agree," he said.

Zorra sat back down. Under the table Win kept