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was still drunk, still wanting to shoot Connelly and Pepper with that gun he was waving around, but he was talking now. The longer he talked the more he would sober up. Soon, I knew, he would start crying, and then it would all be over.
    Just as long as no one started shooting first.
    And then I saw him. A security man, tall, bearded, encircling Connelly and Pepper and aiming his Colt at Tom.
    He was going to be the hero. He was going to bethe one written up in the newspaper stories. He was the one his lodge would be bragging about for the rest of its days.
    I knew I had only a few seconds. I had to combine what I’d been planning to do with this new problem.
    On my third step toward Tom, I raised my .44 and fired two quick shots at our hero, a few inches above his head. He did what I’d hoped he would do. He hit the floor for cover without even thinking of firing his gun. Suddenly, being a hero wasn’t half as important as saving his ass.
    Tom was just starting to turn back to me when I grabbed him and threw him down on the floor.
    Though I’d been planning on holding him until the inside bouncer could get some cuffs on him, the outside bouncer changed my plans. It seemed he was sort of pissed off that I’d knocked him out and thrown his sawed-off away.
    He charged at me through the doorway, his hands leading him, shaping themselves to fit my throat. He must have looked just like a bear cub when he was born because right then he appeared to be the size and power of a full-grown grizzly.
    I hadn’t counted on him but he hadn’t counted on me, either. One thing I rarely did was just stand there when somebody was about to attack me. Somehow, that didn’t seem like a very sensible thing to do.
    But I did have to stand there long enough to put the point of my Texas boot straight into his groin.
    He went into heavy dramatics. Falling face down, clutching his crotch, the noises of frustrated rage muffled somewhat by the fact that his mouth was about an inch from the floor.
    Then I looked back to see what was going on behind me. And that was when Connelly threw a full whiskey bottle at me, crashing against the side of my head and momentarily sending me down into some deep damp darkness.

Chapter 4
    I wasn’t out long. When I staggered to my feet, I saw that I was on the back porch along with all the others involved in Tom’s standoff.
    It’s a terrible thing to hear a drunk cry. Susan had Tom standing against the porch railing and was talking to him in a soft voice. He was choking on his tears. I imagine he was embarrassed then. When he was sober, he wasn’t a foolish man. Liquor makes us strangers, even to ourselves.
    The good bouncer had Connelly and Pepper in the opposite corner. They were talking quietly, too. The bad bouncer stood nearby, glowering at me as I got all wobbly to my feet.
    The casino was the casino again. The noise was that of a midnight train rushing through the night. There was laughter, chatter, the various sounds of gambling devices, and the steady drone of gamblers calling out their bets.
    I walked over to Tom and Susan.
    “I’m really sorry, Noah. I made another damned mess. I just wish I could let go of this thing.”
    “I know it’s not easy for you to do but you really have to just live it out, Tom. I talk you up whenever I’m in D.C. and so do a lot of other agents.”
    “Really?”
    “Sure, really. Hell, we know you didn’t take those secrets.”
    Susan reached down and took his hand.
    “I’d still like to see those two in prison,” he said.
    “You’d have to stand in line to. Everybody wants to see them in jail.”
    “What I can’t believe is that the agency keeps them on,” Susan said. “They’re such scum.”
    “Useful scum sometimes,” I said. “But they’ll slip up one of these days.”
    “You think so?” Tom asked, unable to keep a hopeful sound out of his voice.
    “Sure. They push everything. And someday those senators who promote them will have to drop ’em.