52
I was sitting in Nestor’s, a coffee going cold before me. I’d related to Jeff the whole series of events and he never once interrupted. He’d been polishing a glass, his head tilted to the side. The glass was shining. Time to time, I touched my left cheek, under the eye where the spittle had landed. Jeff put the glass aside, said,
“We’ll go after them.”
“You and me?”
He looked round. The sentry was staring into space. He asked,
“You see anybody else?”
“No.”
When I finally got back to the hotel, it was dark. Mrs Bailey asked,
“Are you all right?”
“I am.”
“Good man.”
I got upstairs and washed my face in cold water. Didn’t help. The spittle had burned beyond the skin. Jeff had said he’d find out the identity of the Pikemen’s leader. I’d asked,
“How?”
He shrugged.
“How hard can
