AT ELEVEN the phone rang again I picked it up, saying nothing.
"It's you?"
"It's me," I said to the voice.
"We need to talk."
"Talk."
"Face to face."
"You know where I am."
"Not there."
"Where, then?"
"Take the bridge to the nuthouse on the island. Pull over as soon as you get in sight of the guard booth. Midnight tomorrow. Okay?"
"Want me to wear a bull's-eye on my back?"
"I don't care what you wear, but leave the Chinaman at home."
"What's this about?"
"Business," Wesley said, breaking the connection.