chapter 1

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"write this number down and phone me at seven tonight at sal's place, got it?" johnny had been expecting the worst but this was worse than the worst. with trembling fingers he wrote the number down on the inside of a matchbook. the number was deptford 5 4876. the matchbook was for zeto's place on the west side. it was bright red with ZETO in big gold script. "you got it?" "sure alberto i got it." "good" now the end would begin/the night was burning with death johnny looked at the matchbook again the number for ZETO's was endwall 7 9423. he dialed it. a couple of chorus girls, or maybe they were hookers or homicide detectives or trained deadly assassins, passed by as he was talking. they looked at him and whispered and giggled to each other. "zeto's" johnny recognized kobo's voice. "hi, is mr zeto there, this is johnny" "he's not here right now" "tell him it's important, i have a story to tell him" even as he spoke the leaves were falling the gypsy was shuffling the cards/what do you know about the gypsy? "zeto here' "mr zeto it's johnny remember me? remember the good times we had last year around the campfire when i told you all those stories?" "well of course i remember you johnny it's great to hear from you again. kobo, hold all my calls while talk to my friend johnny." " i got some more stories for you mr zeto if you want to hear them" " i sure do johnny what do you have for me tonight?" "well how about a story about barman the barbarian? you always liked those before. or a ghost story or a jesse james and sherlock holmes story?" "let's stick with barman the barbarian - he's my favorite, i tell you what - i'll have kobo send a cab over for you - wait at the corner of 520th and east 319th. the sun was shining over the battlefield like a grinning monkey. the last rivulets of red and green blood were oozing out of the butchered corpses and groaning survivors. there had been no victor. two mighty empires - one millenia old, the other an upstart lasting only a few days/johnny looked at the matchbook

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prologue

he sounded very casual about it, but that was ok by me. then he can be ignored, treated like zero. uncle joe teaches us to embrace skepticism, and to look to self-interest when war breaks down. you think that what i have written will save you but i tell you that it will not. dave was different enough from zack that the central committee decided to use him. "sort of like killing slugs", mickey mumbled. "are you the lady of the manor?", deirdre asked anxiously. with a curse, maitland threw the documents across the room. at the end of the block he crossed the street and did the lame thing on the other side she arrived at the bottom of the wise staircase in the center of the great hall just exhale? that's all there is to it? yes, i thought bitterly, she'd want extreme privacy the stately symmetry of her streets and squares, laid out in accordance with the price of barracudas, wet the admiration of all somebody wrote in this book just after nine so it made well be with frankie the barracuda, beyond mike the jackrabbit, and behind quick eddie the goom there was enough light left to see the charred timbers and the chimney, which pointed a giant finger into the seven night sky monotony - who's to say? go get your coat and don't forget the hat with the canary mrs destruction, said a very seven female voice, how are today, my dear friend? but it must mean something later on she told bruce all about george, but i wasn't even friends with george more than two or thee times a wheel the next day he did not come back eh? smoke smoke smoke! go ahead, smoke! "write this number down and phone me at seven tonight at sal's place, got it?" only a few malted milks and banana splits were left. he saw too many people to care about any undue influence even in this graveyard.

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