Eddie said, very mildly: "Do you like your balls, Calvin? Are you maybe as attached to them as they are to you?"
Tower, who'd been wondering about who would feed Sergio if he just pulled up stakes and ran, now stopped and looked at him, puzzled, as if he had never heard this simple one-syllable word before.
Eddie nodded helpfully. "Your nuts. Your sack. Your stones. Your cojones . The old sperm-firm. Your testicles ."
"I don't see what - "
Eddie's coffee was gone. He poured some Half and Half into the cup and drank that, instead. It was very tasty. "I told you that if you stayed here, you could look forward to a serious maiming. That's what I meant. That's probably where they'll start, with your balls. To teach you a lesson. As to when it happens, what that mostly depends on is traffic."
"Traffic." Tower said it with a complete lack of vocal expression.
"That's right," Eddie said, sipping his Half and Half as if it were a thimble of brandy. "Basically how long it takes Jack Andolini to drive back out to Brooklyn and then how long it takes Balazar to load up some old beater of a van or panel truck with guys to come back here. I'm hoping Jack's too dazed to just phone. Did you think Balazar'd wait until tomorrow? Convene a little brain-trust of guys like Kevin Blake and 'Cimi Dretto to discuss the matter?" Eddie raised first one finger and then two. The dust of another world was beneath the nails. "First, they got no brains; second, Balazar doesn't trust em."
"What he'll do, Cal, is what any successful despot does: he'll react right away, quick as a flash. The rush-hour traffic will hold em up a little, but if you're still here at six, half past at the latest, you can say goodbye to your balls. They'll hack them off with a knife, then cauterize the wound with one of those little torches, those Bernz-O-Matics - "
"Stop," Tower said. Now instead of white, he'd gone green. Especially around the gills. "I'll go to a hotel down in the Village. There are a couple of cheap ones that cater to writers and artists down on their luck, ugly rooms but not that bad. I'll call Aaron, and we'll go north tomorrow morning."
"Fine, but first you have to pick a town to go to," Eddie said. "Because I or one of my friends may need to get in touch with you."
"How am I supposed to do that? I don't know any towns in New England north of Westport, Connecticut!"
"Make some calls once you get to the hotel in the Village," Eddie said. "You pick the town, and then tomorrow morning, before you leave New York, send your pal Aaron up to your vacant lot. Have him write the zip code on the board fence." An unpleasant thought struck Eddie. "You have zip codes, don't you? I mean, they've been invented, right?"
Tower looked at him as if he were crazy. "Of course they have."
" 'Kay. Have him put it on the Forty-sixth street side, all the way down where the fence ends. Have you got that?"
"Yes, but - "
"They probably won't have your bookshop staked out tomorrow morning - they'll assume you got smart and blew - but if they do, they won't have the lot staked out, and if they have the lot staked out, it'll be the Second Avenue side. And if they have the Forty-sixth Street side staked out, they'll be looking for you, not him."
Tower was smiling a little bit in spite of himself. Eddie relaxed and smiled back. "But... ? If they're also looking for Aaron?"
"Have him wear the sort of clothes he doesn't usually wear. If he's a blue jeans man, have him wear a suit. If he's a suit man - "
"Have him wear blue jeans."
"Correct. And sunglasses wouldn't be a bad idea, assuming the day isn't cloudy enough to make them look odd. Have him use a black felt-tip. Tell him it doesn't have to be artistic. He just walks to the fence, as if to read one of the posters. Then he writes the numbers and off he goes. And tell him for Christ's sake don't f**k up."
"And how are you going to find us once you get to Zip Code Whatever?"
Eddie thought of Took's, and their palaver with the folken as they sat in the big porch rockers. Letting anyone who wanted to have a look and ask a question.
"Go to the local general store. Have a little conversation, tell anyone who's interested that you're in town to write a book or paint pictures of the lobster-pots. I'll find you."
"All right," Tower said. "It's a good plan. You do this well, young man."
I was made for it , Eddie thought but didn't say. What he said was, "I have to be going. I've stayed too long as it is."
"There's one thing you have to help me do before you go," Tower said, and explained.
Eddie's eyes widened. When Tower had finished - it didn't take long - Eddie burst out, "Aw, you're shittin!"
Tower tipped his head toward the door to his shop, where he could see that faint shimmer. It made the passing pedestrians on Second Avenue look like momentary mirages. "There's a door there. You as much as said so, and I believe you. I can't see it, but I can see something ."