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dden inside a drab little seed。 You just had to be encouraged to。 。 。 well； to grow and bloom。〃
She could not look at him。 She felt as if a tremendous stone had been placed on the back of her neck； forcing her to bow her head； and she was blushing。 But she found the courage to say； 〃It's so damn hard to bloom。 。 。 to change。 Even when you want to change； want it more than anything in the world； it's hard。 Desire to change isn't enough。 Or desperation。 Couldn't be done without 。 。 。 love。〃 Her voice had dropped to a whisper； and she was unable to lift it。 〃Love is like the water and the sun that make the seed grow。〃
He said； 〃Nora； look at me。〃
That stone on her neck must have weighed a hundred pounds； a thousand。
〃Nora？〃
It weighed a ton。
〃Nora； I love you too。〃
Somehow with great effort； she lifted her head。 She looked at him。 His brown eyes； so dark as to be almost black； were warm and kind and beautiful。
She loved those eyes。 She loved the high bridge and narrow line of his nose。 She loved every aspect of his lean and ascetic face。
〃I should have told you first；〃 he said； 〃because it's easier for me to say it than it is for you。 I should have said it days ago； weeks ago： Nora； by God； I love you。 But I didn't say it because I was afraid。 Every time I let myself love someone； I lose them； but this time I think maybe it'll be different。 Maybe you'll change things for me the way I helped change them for you； and maybe this time luck's with me。〃
Her heart raced。 She could barely get her breath； but she said； 〃I love you。〃
〃Will you marry me？〃
She was stunned。 She did not know what she'd expected to happen； but certainly not this。 Just hearing him say he loved her； just being able to express the same sentiments to him…that was enough to keep her happy for weeks； months。 She expected to have time to walk around their love； as if it were a great and mysterious edifice that； like some newly discovered pyramid； must be studied and pondered from every angle before she dared to undertake an exploration of the interior。
〃Will you marry me？〃 be repeated。
This was too fast； recklessly fast； and just sitting there on a kitchen chair she got as dizzy as if she had been spinning around on a carnival ride； and she was afraid； too； so she tried to tell him to slow down； tried to tell him they had plenty of time to consider the next step before taking it； but to her surprise she heard herself say； 〃Yes。 Oh； yes。〃
He reached out and took both her hands。
She cried； then； but they were good tears。
Lost in his book； Einstein had nevertheless been aware of what was transpiring。 He came to the table； sniffing at both of them； rubbing against their legs； and whining happily。
Travis said； 〃Next week？〃
〃Married？ But it takes time to get a license and everything。〃
〃Not in Las Vegas。 I can call ahead； make arrangements with a wedding chapel in Vegas。 We can go next week and be married。〃
Crying and laughing at the same time； she said； 〃All right。〃
〃Terrific；〃 Travis said； grinning。
Einstein wagged his tail furiously： Yes； yes； yes； yes； yes。
5
On Wednesday； the fourth of August； working on contract for the Tetragna Family of San Francisco； Vince Nasco hit a little cockroach named Lou Pantangela。 The cockroach had turned state's evidence and was scheduled； in September； to testify in court against members of the Tetragna organization。
Johnny The Wire Santini； puter hacker for the mob； had used his high…
tech expertise to invade federal puter files and locate Pantangela。 The cockroach was living under the protection of two federal marshals in a safe house in； of all places； Redondo Beach； south of L。A。 After testifying this autumn； he was scheduled to be given a new identity and a new life in Connecticut； but of course he was not going to live that long。
Because Vince would probably have to waste one or both of the marshals to get at Pantangela； the rubout was going to bring a lot of heat； so the Tetragnas offered him a very high price…60；000。 They had no way of knowing that the need to kill more than one man was a bonus to Vince； it made the job more…not less…attractive。
He ran surveillance on Pantangela for almost a week； using a different vehicle every day to avoid being spotted by the cockroach's bodyguards。 They did not often let Pantangela outside； but they were still more confident of their hiding place than they should have been because three or four times a week they allowed him to have a late lunch in public； acpanying him to a little trattoria four blocks from the safe house。
They had changed Pantangela's appearance as much as possible。 He had once had thick black hair that he had worn longish； over his collar； Now his hair was cut short and dyed light brown。 He'd had a mustache； but they'd made him shave it off。 He had been sixty pounds overweight； but after two months in the care of the marshals； he had lost about forty pounds。 Nevertheless； Vince recognized him。
On Wednesday； August 4； they took Pantangela to the trattoria at one o'clock； as usual。 At ten minutes past one； Vince strolled in to have his own lunch。
The restaurant had only eight tables in the middle and six booths along each side wall。 It looked clean but had too much Italian kitsch for Vince's taste： red… and white…checkered tablecloths； garish murals of roman ruins； empty wine bottles used as candleholders； a thousand bunches of plastic grapes； for God's sake； hanging from lattice fixed to the ceiling and meant to convey the atmosphere of an arbor。 Because Californians tend to eat an early dinner； at least by Eastern standards； they also eat an early lunch； and by ten past one； the number of diners had already peaked and was declining。 By two o'clock； it was likely that the only customers remaining would be Pantangela； his two bodyguards； and Vince； which was what made it such a good place for the hit。
The trattoria was too small to bother with a hostess at lunch； and a sign told guests to seat themselves。 Vince walked back through the room； past the Pantangela party； to an empty booth behind them。
Vince had given a lot of thought to his clothes。 He was wearing rope sandals； red cotton shorts； and a white T…shirt on which were blue waves； a yellow sun； and the words ANOTHER CALIFORNIA BODY。 His aviator sunglasses were mirrored。 He carried an open…topped canvas beach bag that was boldly lettered MY STUFF。 If you glanced in the bag when he walked past； you'd see a tightly rolled towel； bottles of tanning lotion； a small radio； and a hairbrush；
but you wouldn't see the fully automatic； silencer…equipped Uzi pistol with a forty…round magazine hidden in the bottom。 With his deep tan to plement the outfit； he achieved the look he wanted： a very fit but aging surfer； a leisure…sotted； shiftless； and probably harebrained jerk who would be beaching it every day； pretending to be young； and still self…intoxicated when he was sixty。
He only glanced uninterestedly at Pantangela and the marshals； but he was aware of them giving him the once…over； then dismissing him as harmless。 Perfect。
The booths had high padded backs； so from where he sat he could not see Pantangela。 But he co