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"Well, to each his own," Cupie said. "What I think I'm going to do when I get home is take my daughter out to a really good restaurant and encourage her to go to law school."

"Why law school?"

"Well, it might make her forget about joining the LAPD, and get her into the D.A.'s office, instead. And if it doesn't, the law degree will impress the LAPD recruiters."

"Lawyers are not nice people," the voice from the backseat said. "I've seen too many lawyers the past few years and been married to one. Tell her to major in fashion design."

"How would she ever meet an eligible, heterosexual man in the fashion business?" Cupie asked.

"You'd be surprised. Of course, the straight ones are very, very busy."

"Next turn for the airport," Cupie said.

"I saw the sign," Vittorio replied drily. He made the turn. "I'll drop you two off at curbside check-in, then I'll turn in the car and find you inside."

"Okay," Cupie replied, "but don't drive away until I've had a look around and give you the high sign."

"The high sign?"

"Like a thumbs-up."

"Oh."

"Which airline?"

"Doesn't matter; we're not going to check in at curbside anyway. I don't like it with all the cars driving by."

"Uh-oh," Vittorio said.

"What?" Cupie replied.

"Black suburban, battered, bullet hole in the rear window, at twelve o'clock, curbside."

"Where?" Barbara asked, sitting up.

Cupie pushed her back down in the backseat. "I swear, you just want to be a duck in a shooting gallery, don't you?" Cupie watched as the driver got out of the Suburban and strolled over to two Mexican police officers loafing on the curb.

"Just keep driving, Vittorio."

"What, you thought I was going to stop and ask directions?" Vittorio asked.

Twenty-two

EAGLE HUNG UP THE PHONE FROM HIS CONVERSATION with Vittorio. He felt relieved, relaxed, clean, as if after a sauna and a massage. In one day, perhaps two, he'd have the blank sheets with Barbara's signature, and life would be sweet again. So it had cost him three hundred thousand dollars plus the fees and expenses of Cupie, Vittorio and Russell Norris, say another fifty thousand. So what? It would be the cheapest divorce he could ever have obtained. Barbara had shot herself in the foot!

Apart from that, he had rid himself of one, possibly two, hit men and won Joe Big Bear's case in court. All in all, it made him feel like playing golf when he should be working. It was more fun, if he should be working. He called Wolf Willett.

"You up for some golf?"

"Sounds like more fun than working," Wolf said.

"Half an hour?"

"Done."

Half an hour later they were on the first tee, looking at a very straightforward par four, three hundred and seventy-five yards. Wolf hit a nice straight drive. So did Eagle, but ten yards shorter.

"I've never understood why you can't translate all that height of yours into length on the golf course," Wolf said smugly. "I mean, I'm nearly a foot shorter than you, and I just outdrove you."

"I want to encourage you," Eagle said. "Later, when there's more money involved, I'll get longer."

Vittorio drove away from the airport, then pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. "I guess we can wait them out," he said. "Check back every hour."

"We got lucky that time," Cupie said. "They were dumb enough to park that tank outside. Next time, they might be inside the terminal, and we only know what one of them looks like. Let's drive to Puerto Vallarta and try the airport there."

"Okay by me," Vittorio said. "What about you, Babs?"

"You guys are nuts," she said.

"What? We just earned our ten grand each, protecting you from the kidnappers; the rest is a free ride for you."

"Let's get going," she said. At least, she had stopped popping up out of the backseat every ten minutes.

"Just relax, baby," Cupie said, "and we'll get you home. Wherever that is."

"Shut up and drive," she said.

Vittorio put the car in gear and headed for Puerto Vallarta.

They left the course after nine holes and went to the clubhouse for some lunch. Eagle told Wolf about his feelings of relief and safety.

"Relieved and safe is a good way to be," Wolf agreed. "Of course, there's another woman out there somewhere, just waiting to do it to you all over again."

"You mean you think they're all thieves and murderers?"

"No, just our first wives. Maybe you'll get lucky next time, the way I did."

"You did get lucky, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and now when I pay my film editor, the money stays in the family. And not only that, when she's not working with me, she goes out and earns a very nice buck working for other filmmakers."

"Now that is devoutly to be wished," Eagle said, wonder in his voice. "To think that I was happy this morning, thinking all my wife had cost me was three hundred and fifty grand, and your wife is out there, bringing home the bacon."

"The eggs, too, in a good year."

"I'm never, ever, ever going to get married again," Eagle said. "I should never have done it in the first place."

"That's not good thinking," Wolf said. "Goes against the natural order of things."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that man is not meant to be alone; he craves companionship."

"And sex."

"That, too."

"I got news for you, paclass="underline" from now on, dinner and a roll in the hay is enough companionship and sex for me. Maybe a dirty weekend now and then."

"Yeah, but you're not getting that warm, family feeling around the holidays."

"I'll sleep through the holidays."

"Yes, and alone."

"I HAVE TO PEE," Barbara said.

"I'll let you know when we're at the next gas station," Vittorio replied.

"I have to pee right now," she said. "The road is bumpy."

"Then you're going to have to make do with a cactus for a bathroom."

"Let me worry about that."

Vittorio pulled over. "There's a nice one right over there," he said. "Some bushes, too."

Barbara got out of the car and picked her way across twenty yards of desert in her high heels to a clump of flora.

"Uh-oh," Vittorio said. He was looking in the rearview mirror.

Cupie swiveled his head around and looked back down the long, straight highway. "It's a black dot," he said.

"Right."

"Gimme those binoculars of yours." Cupie focused on the black dot. "Uh-oh," he said. He rolled down the window, letting in a gust of hot, dry air. "Barbara!"

"Just a minute," she yelled.

"Stay where you are," Cupie called. "Car coming."

"Big deal!"

"I hope not, but it could be." Cupie watched through the glasses as the black dot got bigger. "Take off your hat," Cupie said.

"What?"

"Vittorio, they may not remember you, but they'll remember that fucking hat."

Vittorio took off his campaign hat and dropped it on the floor. "You know what I wish?" he said.

"What?"

"I wish I had a heavy machine gun."

Cupie was still glued to the binoculars. "It's a black SUV," he said. "I wish I had a hand grenade."

Twenty-three

CUPIE AND VlTTORIO WERE HOLDING UP A MAP, CONCEALing their handguns beneath it, when the black Suburban pulled alongside them and stopped. A window slid down, and two men grinned at them from the front seat. They couldn't see who was in the backseat.