I let myself in the office door and quickly ran my hand down the open wooden Venetian slats. Cheryl came running, looked for the light switch, and nudged it on with her elbow.

“Turn it off,” I ordered curtly.

I had just enough time to see her frightened look of apprehension. “Look,” Cheryl explained, “I didn’t break in here. A really sweet guy with beautiful eye shadow let me in.” Her laugh was forced.

“Not now,” I said in a low, tight voice. “There might be trouble. We have to shut all the lights and pull the blinds.”

We went from room to room in what felt like a methadrine stoked tour of my apartment. I was tempted to point out various items; like the fucking gun hanging on the back of a kitchen chair.

“Which room should we stay in?” Cheryl asked in a whisper.

“Here.” I pointed to the enamel-top kitchen table.

“Why the kitchen? The living room is further from the alley?”

“Yeah, but I want to hear if someone comes down the back way. Wait a second while I make a call.” Two calls, actually. One to Charles thanking him for letting Cheryl in, then asking him to throw all the locks on the front door, including the bolt that only opened from inside. I heard him talk to someone and for a frantic moment thought he was held hostage. The frantic relaxed when Richard came on the line.

“Matt, Richard here. Charles is shutting things down. What’s going on?”

“I hope nothing, but there’s a possibility some people may come looking for me. I don’t think they’ll bother anyone else, but I wouldn’t urge you to stick around.”

“Don’t be absurd. Do you need any help?”

“I could use eyes in the front of the building, but if you do that you have to stay dark. They’re pros.”

“What should we be looking for?”

“Rich, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. Charles is back and the front door is secure.”

“Good. Look for anyone eyeballing the buildings, or cars just cruising the street. Call me even if you think it’s a paranoid flash. Also, let me know if anyone legit goes in or out.”

“Should we warn Lou? The rest of the building?”

I took a moment to think. “Not yet. I’m not sure anyone is really coming.”

“These the goons who worked you over?”

“One of them.” I felt Cheryl’s eyes comb my face. “But it’s not the same group.”

“Okay. Let us know if you need anything else.”

“Rich, thanks.” I dialed Julius’s number and let it ring a long time before giving up. Cheryl had disappeared into the bathroom and I slumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. When I opened my eyes she was standing at my side, washcloth in cast.

“You’re filthy and all scratched up.”

“Here, give me that. You’ll get your cast wet.” I took the warm cloth, wiped my hands and face, then lit a cigarette. Cheryl walked around the table and sat down across from me. Despite the closed blinds, amber streaks from the grocery store’s anticrime lights leaked into the room casting a dark orange glow on her smooth black face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you drive?”

“My mother brought me. You turn this place into a bunker and ask me questions? First things first, White Man. What’s going on? How do you know it wasn’t the Avengers?”

Her energy rattled against my self-control. “I get the feeling that if you could write, you’d have a notebook open.”

“If I could write I wouldn’t be here.”

She saw something cross my face because she amended, “Might not be here.”

I recounted Simon’s call and my evening’s activity. Somehow the last half overshadowed the first.

“Why are you so certain they weren’t Avengers?” Cheryl asked. “You saw Blue.”

“I don’t believe they could coordinate an attack like that. The Avengers are a bunch of fucking losers. Anyhow, Blue wasn’t the Big Enchilada.”

“You think since you trashed the Avengers you have a national supremacy group looking for revenge?”

“I think it’s possible.”

We remained quiet for the next few minutes while I contemplated Salmon Rushdie’s life, but Cheryl stomped on the romance. Hard.

“What about the Irish?”

“Say what?”

“That Color It Green program sounds like a front. Plus, your description of the church’s visitors. They don’t sound like social workers.”

Cheryl’s verbalization of my earlier suspicion sent a chill through my emotional restraint. I tried to match my assailants with the men at the church, but the bush hadn’t given me a clear view. I hoped it had been the bush. It might have been the fear. “What would Color It Green front for?”

“I don’t know. Guns. How does the IRA grab you? That neighborhood has always been involved in the war.”

It was common knowledge that an underground existed between my city and different factions in the struggle to liberate Ireland. But common knowledge is not the same as fact. Especially one I didn’t want to hear. I shrugged and fought the idea, but my dread was listening hard.

“What difference does it make if it’s white supremacists or the IRA?” Cheryl asked, accurately perceiving my rising tension.

“The IRA doesn’t make sense,” I said stubbornly.

“But a national white supremacist group does?”

“I don’t know.” I stood, walked softly to the window, pulled a slat of the blind, and looked into the alley.

“Do you hear something?” Cheryl whispered. She didn’t sound scared.

I patted the slat back down and returned to the table. “Just the sound of my panic.” I forced a smile and said, “Let’s say Color It Green is a front and I did brush up against the IRA. Why would they come after me? Hell, I’m just working the Avengers and everyone knows it. What connection could the IRA have with Kelly? No, sweetie, odds are I got real Americans here.”

I wasn’t willing to lay mortgage money on my logic, but somehow neo-Nazis seemed like the easier do. “Can I get you anything?” I said, debating whether to retrieve bourbon or grass. I decided on both.

When I returned to the table Cheryl shook her head. “Cigarettes, dope, booze. Shit, you’re a walking death wish. I don’t know why you’re scared of anyone else.”

I finished rolling the joint before I looked up. “Walking is the operative word. I almost buy it and you’re hassling me about dope?”

Cheryl’s voice grew soft. “I like you, Matt.”

Her simple words broke through the numb and cunning I’d been using to hold myself together. I tried to light the joint but my hand wouldn’t stop trembling. My body broke into a clammy sweat and I felt bathed in layers of fear. I tried to speak, couldn’t, and dropped the joint on the table. I covered my face with shaking hands as the entire evening’s tension exploded, my body twitching like I’d just plugged into 220. For the first time since this endless night began, I stopped holding on and burst into tears.

Cheryl stayed where she was and let me sob myself out. Eventually the crying and shaking eased. I took deep breaths until I regained a semblance of calm.

Then Cheryl stood, walked close behind me, and cradled my head against her breasts. I felt my pulse quicken, closed my eyes, and let my hands reach back and slide down her flanks. I pictured her naked, lying across my outstretched body, replenishing my fear and fatigue with her youth and vitality.

I rose from my seat and faced her with open eyes. All my fear, my desperation, was replaced by a burning desire. The rest of my kitchen was gone and the only thing I could see was the welcome of her stance, the invitation of her body, the pulse of a tiny vein in her neck. I reached out to pull her into me but stopped when the casts on her hands curled onto my chest. I immediately felt awkward, silly, and confused. Suddenly more protective than impassioned.

And almost jumped out of my skin when the telephone’s bell slashed through the moment.

I grabbed the receiver with a mixture of disappointment and relief. It was Richard. “We just spotted Julius. Charles is going to open the door and I wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks.” My throat was dry but I forced the words. “Will you ask him to come down?”

“Sure. You sound strange. Are you okay?”

I looked at Cheryl. “I’m okay.”

“You never told me why you came over,” I said, after I hung up the phone.

“Yes I did. I told you that I like you.”

“Yeah, well there’s problems with that,” I answered gruffly, retreating. “Like twenty-some years’ worth.”

“Those years disappeared pretty fast a minute ago.” She smiled. “You make yourself out to be an old man and me a young kid. Neither is exactly true.”

I lowered my shield and tried to return her smile. “We probably have to talk but now ain’t exactly the time or place. My friend Julius will be here any second and I’m going to ask him to take you home.”

I was spared her protest by a light tapping. I motioned for Cheryl to sit, grabbed the gun from the holster, and opened the front door.

Julie stared balefully at the barrel, stuck his finger out, and gently pushed the gun aside. He stepped inside the door and stood motionless while I locked up. “Dug in pretty deep, here,” he said. “Who you waiting on?”

“I’m not sure. I got run off the road by professionals. They wanted to take me out. And they had an Avenger with them.”

“He thinks white supremacists, I’m thinking Irish. Maybe the IRA,” Cheryl called from the kitchen.

Julius glanced at me. “Sounds like you got the fort well supplied.”

“I’ve had enough problems for one night,” I said. “Cheryl was here when I got back. I want you to take her home.”

“You expecting more trouble?”

“Not expecting, but anything is possible.”

Cheryl stepped out of the kitchen shadows. “I haven’t agreed to leave.” She lifted her casts. “These don’t mean I’m a quitter.”

I shook my head. “Cheryl, you can’t pull this now. If I’m going to get out of this jam I can’t be concentrating on your safety. Please? Let Julius take you home. As soon as I find out what’s going on I’ll tell you. I promise.”

For a moment I thought she was going to resist but suddenly a smile cracked wide across her face. “Guess I’d have trouble with a trigger anyway. Okay, big bad Black man, I’ll get my coat.” I started to explain who Cheryl was. Julie waved me quiet. “The casts speak for themselves, Slumlord. You just keep your head down while I’m gone.”

I called Richard to tell him that Julie and Cheryl were on their way out. He told me they would check the street from their window. Smart man, my neighbor.

As soon as Cheryl and Julius left, the apartment felt cold and empty. I was momentarily sorry they had listened to me, but better judgment prevailed. I went through the house, gun in hand, checking the windows. The third time through I began to relax.

By the time Julius returned I was fairly certain the night’s surprises were over. Almost had me wishing I hadn’t sent the lady home. Then I flashed on her casts and my awkwardness and wasn’t so sure.

I nodded us to the kitchen table and lit the joint. “Cheryl fill you in about the night?” I asked.

“Enough.”

“What do you think?”

“I think the sister makes sense. According to Phil, Washington Clifford was involved before you trashed the Avengers. Easy to see him sinking his ugly teeth into the Irish business.” Julius liked Washington even less than me and without having tasted Clifford’s fist. Less afraid of him, too.

“Well, that could be true.” I glumly told him about Clifford’s visit and warnings.

Julius nodded. “Then I’d bet she does have it right. Here’s a little more. I looked into your boy Kelly. His conversion was a relatively recent event. Not even a couple of years.”

“And before?”

“Before is interesting. He was behind a long trail of burglaries.”

“Armored cars?”

“Predominantly.”

“So he was a thief.”

“A long string of complicated successful burglaries.”

“A thief with talent?”

“A whole lot of talent, Matthew. But since The White Avengers, people never saw much sign of the same successes.”

“He stopped his heists?”

“Not completely. But cut way back once he started the Avengers.” Julie pulled two cigarettes from his pack and handed me one. “Something else strange. These White Avengers came out of nowhere. Like Kelly got hit with religion and the next day he was out preaching.”

“Were the Avengers the same pack he’d been running with?”

“I don’t know.”

We sat quietly while I tried to make sense out of his information. What stuck was Clifford. The IRA, or some other renegade faction, would indeed garner his interest. “If Kelly were involved with the IRA why the hell start the Avengers? Why would he want that kind of attention?”

Julius just grunted and shrugged.

Occasionally, different aspects of a case present themselves like puzzle pieces. Information to shift around until it fits. This case was different. I had been jumped, fired from my job, shot at, and still couldn’t find the damn game board. “I’m floundering, bro. If Kelly was connected to theIRA while he was involved with the Avengers, then the Avengers’ actions toward the Hasids somehow figure in. Hell, the shootings figure in.” I shook my head. “It’s a whole lot clearer if my pros are Nazis.”

“Indeed. Only you don’t know enough to be clear about anything. Slumlord, if you’re serious about tracking this shit down you got to change the way you usually think. You look for a person’s reasons when something happens. This isn’t like that. These folk act for organizational reasons. Whether we be talking swastikas or initials. Nothing personal going on here.”

“I don’t know, man, the night felt plenty personal. Julie, what fucking connection could the IRA have with a Hasidic Yeshiva?”

Julius looked out from under his half-masts. “I’m guessing that’s what you’re gonna find out.”