good and proper this tune. All this threatening is just a bluff.”

“Let’s see ya eat the stuff, Pop. I dare ya.”

Mumbling through his mustache, the guard unlocked the cell door. Then he stepped back to pick up the tray, but stopped halfway down, grunting when he straightened up again.

“One of you guys come out here and pick that tray up.”

“So’s you won’t be blamed for the consequences? Swensen, whaddaya think of old Pop now? Pretty sharp, this switch, eh?”

“Pretty sharp. Experience, I’d say.”

“Whaddaya say, Tur—uh, Catell? Ya think we should do this thing for Poison Pop?”

“Give ‘im a thrill, Smiley. Go out there and make a break for it.”

“Come on, you nuts.” The guard sounded querulous. “One of you come out here and pick up that tray.”

“All right, men. When I give the signal, we rush him. One, two—”

The old man started to look confused. He stepped back.

Smiley said, “Good thing I can’t count to three, Pop. It saved your life.”

Then he stepped out of the cell and brought the tray back in.

“Knock on the bars when you’re done.” The guard was locking the door. “Knock on the bars and I pick up the tray.”

“Get that,” Smiley said “How’s he expect us to knock on the bars, us dead from poisoning and layin’ here stiff?”

“Buncha nuts,” said the guard, shuffling off.

“Poisoner!”

They started to eat, laughing about the old man and making small talk. But they didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel right about being caught in a double cross.

“That Catell sure got a friend in you, Turtle. You realize what this means?”

“That’s O.K. I been in stir but twice. Builds character, I always say.”

“Yeah? I rather be without character,” Smiley said. “Got a smoke?”

“Won’t be much for the Turtle,” Swensen put in. “What are they going to charge him with, lying to an officer of the law?”

“Associating with bad company. It’s us they got over a barrel, Swensen. I get faint just thinking about it.”

“Smith’ll come through. I’ve seen him come through before. So you get a few years, rest up. You know.”

“Swensen, for chrissakes, don’t talk like that. Me, I’m a vital boy. I can’t stand being locked up someplace.”

“Whaddaya yammering about? You had Rosie yesterday. Look at us with nothin’ to give us strength.”

“Ah, Rosie. Such a friendly, friendly girl.”

“Listen to that mush,” Swensen said. “And I bet he don’t even remember her face or the color of her hair.”

“I ain’t in the habit of remembering broads by unimportant details, Swensen.”

“Oh, Christ. A jump artist. Wait’ll they get you up to—”

“Catell. Up front.” The police guard opened the door.

“But we didn’t rattle the bars yet, Pop. Look,” and Smiley held his plate up. “We ain’t finished yet.”

The Turtle got up and, stepping over Swensen, went to the open door.

“Fare thee well, men. And whilst I’m off to the torture chambers, fear not, for Pop here will be with youse.”

“Come on, Catell, get a move on.”

They walked down the corridor that led to the door and the precinct desk.

“Keep in touch,” Smiley called. “You’re O.K.”

They put handcuffs on the Turtle and put him in a police car. Then they drove him downtown, to the office of the FBI. The Turtle didn’t say anything during the long ride. He didn’t think that funny talk would make any difference any more.

Herron closed the folder, left his desk, and walked across the hall to the room they used for interrogations. There was a table in it, a water cooler, and a few chairs. On the wall was a two-year-old calendar with a big picture on top. It showed some kids jumping around in the water of an old swimming hole. A sign said, “No bathing.”

Herron sat down on the table and lit a cigarette. His palms were wet and he sucked on his cigarette with nervous puffs. Then the door opened. Two officers and the Turtle came in.

“Here he is, Herron. Friendly as all get-out.”

They unlocked the handcuffs and one of the men sat down at the table with a pad and pencil.

“This is supposed to be Catell?” Herron swallowed hard a few times and stared at the Turtle. “You mean this guy is Catell and just a few days ago I shook hands with him in a nightclub not knowing he’s the guy I’ve been chasing all over the country?”

The Turtle looked down modestly.

“Sure it’s Catell. And like the tip said, we caught him red-handed, knocking over that safe.”

“Have his prints been taken?”

“Sure. Last night yet.”

“Did you run them through?”

“No, but