“My motha tol’me neva’t’talk’t strangers, buddy,” this Alex said in a low, threatening, Manhattan-gritted voice. “And I can tell that you two are stranger than most.”

He shook my companion by the collar. “Y’see this here?” he asked quietly, pulling out a pistol. Mike nodded helplessly. “If I wanted to, I could jus’put this right here,” he stuck the barrel just below Mike’s quivering jaw, “then BANG !” We both jumped. Alex chuckled to himself.

“But I ain’t gunna do that. Not yet. Now you two listen carefully. I’m gonna let you go, & I’m gonna give you a minute to scram. I’ll give yehs a thirty-second warning shot, but my next shot at sixty’s gonna be on target. Y’unnastan’?”

“But we’re here on assignment from Leslie K!” I cried.

“Oh, so we’sa using big words & name-droppin’, huh?” he asked, turning to me. “Well that ain’t gettin’ you anywheres. Everybody who’s anybody knows Leslie K. But not everybody knows who her father is and what she can do.”