BACK AT the restaurant, I explained what had gone down to Max. His face didn't change, but I could feel the sadness. Wishing Train had refused me the girl. I made the sign of a rifleman on the roof, watching Train through a sniperscope. Max pointed his finger at me, questioning. I shook my head. I left the symbol of the rifleman in place with my left hand, walked the fingers of my right hand up behind it. Knife-edged the right hand, chopped at the symbol, flattened my left hand. Max pointed at me again. Did Train want us to do the job? No.
I didn't know what he wanted. We'd pick up the girl tomorrow and it would be over.