"Ham sandwich," said the bartender. "Bread's fresh."
"One of those with mustard," said Connor. "And some pretzels or salted nuts would be welcome."
The bartender nodded.
The job promised to be quick and easy. No one hurt. Pack up. Collect the rest of the payment. Head for JFK with a ticket for Toronto. And then to Australia to wait for the really big payoff.
Connor smiled and promised he would take care of the pesky tooth on the bottom in the back that had plagued him for months.
Quick and easy. Only it wouldn't be quick and easy.
It would go wrong, decidedly, disastrously, deadly wrong.
Two Months Earlier
Manhattan
It wasn't reasonable to expect a normal man with normal impulses to ignore them, the girls. They knew. He knew. It wasn't a matter of self control.
Alvin Havel had, for five years, pretended that the girls, their hair washed and shimmering, their breasts bobbing, their faces clean and clear and their legs…
Alvin had pretended, had worked hard at being a good teacher, making chemistry interesting, fun. He had succeeded.
The students, rich and confident, or pretending to be, talked of homes in the city and in Vermont or Connecticut or the Bahamas where they had their own Lexus or BMW or Mercedes. They talked of trips to Paris or Tokyo or Sydney.
Summers were supposed to be recovery time for teachers, a perk for having chosen a profession that precluded a decent mortgage. Alvin spent his summers teaching. If the students didn't want to be in school during the academic year, they wanted to be there even less in the summer. Summer school was punishment. Sullen faces, arms folded across chests, drowsy eyes. And the girls. The summer didn't give him a break. He had to see them hot and tanned.
Most of them were smart. Some of them were brilliant. A few of them were interested in chemistry.
The morning had been frost layered, a crisp chill. Then the school had been too warm, the heat turned up. Staying awake for students and teachers was a challenge.
He had given them a quiz. It was too warm in the room to think of real teaching. A quiz would keep them busy for twenty minutes. Then they'd discuss the quiz and class would be over.
She had come up to him with a question. The other students watched without looking. She had whispered her question, her mouth almost touching his ear. He could smell her hair. Her blue silk blouse was unbuttoned at the top and he had nowhere to look but at her breasts.
He answered her question and asked her if he could see her after class. He had a free period. She had lunch. She said yes.
After class when the others were gone, she stood in front of his desk, head cocked to one side, a knowing smile on her lips.
Alvin closed the classroom door and faced her. He tried to hide his trembling.
"Am I in trouble?" she asked.
"No," he said, knowing that what he was about to do, if he was not careful, could ruin his life.
"Then what?" she asked.
"I'd like your help," he said.
"My help?"
He walked toward her, a pensive look on his face.
"An experiment I'd like to conduct. If it works out, I want to write a paper."
"Publish or perish," she said as he moved in front of her.
"Yes," he said.
She took a step back as he moved forward.
"And what do you want me to do?" she asked.
"I've got to balance six different elements. I need someone coordinated to keep track of each element, see that nothing is going wrong."
He was looking into her eyes. She met his gaze.
"Let me see your hands," he said.
"My hands?"
"Hands, fingers," he said. "I want to be sure they're clean enough for the job."
The look on her face was a combination of skepticism and amusement. She held out a hand. God, she looked beautiful. What the hell was he doing?
He took her hand and ran his thumb along the palm.
"Good," he said. "Very good."
She smiled. It was midmorning. He was flirting. She was amused. Mr. Havel was cute. Mr. Havel was safe.
"Are you interested?" he asked.
His mouth was dry.
"Interested?"
"In the experiment."
"I don't know," she said. "I don't have much time."
"You think about it," he said. "If you like, you can take a look at what I've assembled so far. It might help you make up your mind."
She shrugged.
"Back in the storeroom," he said, guiding her to the back of the classroom.
He slid the white board over and stepped behind her into the room.
This was crazy. He should stop. Not too late. In a few minutes, no, a few seconds, he could have a screaming girl in front of him. His life, his career, could be over.
"Where?" she asked when he turned on the light.
He touched her shoulder. She turned to face him. He closed the sliding door.
She wasn't afraid. She was interested, curious. A kiss in the closet. A teacher who would owe her. She didn't intend to use it against him, but it would be fun just knowing she could and knowing that he knew.
He kissed her. He smelled her hair, felt her breasts against his chest. Her mouth was open.
And as she pulled back gently with both hands on his chest, she thought that would be the end of it. She touched his cheek and reached for the door.
Alvin grabbed her arm, turned her and kissed her again. This time she didn't respond. She didn't fight him, but she didn't respond.
Then he put a hand under her blouse and she said, "Hey, no."
He pushed her back against the wall. He didn't care what would happen. Wrong and right didn't matter. He whispered, "No one can hear. I want you to enjoy it. I don't want to hurt you."
She was afraid now, very afraid. He was bigger than she was, stronger than she would have guessed and he looked crazy, no longer the smiling, helpful, funny Mr. Havel.
She didn't fight. She didn't want to make him angry. All she wanted was to get out of there. It wasn't as if she were a virgin. She told herself that made a difference, didn't really believe it. She thought about water, waves, imagined the sound of waves against the shore. She just wanted it to be over.
And when it was he got off of her and said, "Are you all right?"
The Mr. Havel she knew had returned.
He helped her up. She didn't answer. She didn't look at him. The unasked question was in the air. Would she tell? She decided that she wouldn't give him the answer.
He would have to wait and suffer. If she wanted to, she could go into the hall now, screaming, sobbing, but she didn't. She knew she couldn't wait long. She adjusted her skirt and blouse. She started to sob and tried to stop, not wanting him to see her weakness.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't…"