Thank You for Smoking

The service here has improved," Polly said.

"Yes," Nick said. "The staff and I are all old friends now. They told me if I wanted to go over there and help them wipe out the remaining Bosnian Muslims, they'd be happy to arrange it. But I told them I needed to stay on the good side of Muslims. Lot of Muslims in the U.S. prison system."

Bobby Jay said, "Maybe the judge'll. he's got to give you something for pleading guilty."

"I wish you'd checked with us before you did this," Polly said, looking fraught.

"You weren't speaking to me."

"There might have been an easier way of getting us off the Mod Squad rap."

"It's a little late for alternative suggestions. Anyway, don't flatter yourself. Maybe I didn't just do it for you two."

"Then why," Polly said, "are you pleading guilty if you're not guilty? Assuming…"

"I am guilty," Nick said. "I'm just not guilty of that."

"Hell is that supposed to mean?" Bobby Jay said.

"Crimes against humanity. Maybe it's just a mid-life crisis. I don't know. I'm tired of lying for a living."

Polly and Bobby Jay stared. "You going soft on us?" Bobby Jay said.

"No, but let's be real. Who's going to believe me in court?" "Got a point."

"And who's got a million and a half dollars for legal expenses? Do I want to work for a law firm for the rest of my life?"

"So," Bobby Jay said, "BR and Jeannette get a free ride after this world of hurt they dumped on you?"

"Well," Nick said, "that depends."

"On what?"

He grinned. "On whether you've gone soft." "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay. Romans twelve, nineteen."

"What about you, Split-tail?" Nick said. "You want to be the designated driver?"

"Split-tail?" Polly said.

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this," Polly said. She and Nick were sitting in a rented sedan parked fifty yards from the Two-Penny Opera House, a converted warehouse in a part of lower Manhattan that was still some years away from having art galleries and coffee shops. Polly was chain-smoking, filling the car with so much smoke that Nick had to keep the windows open. It was steamy out, and it would have been nicer to have the air-conditioning on.

"You're doing fine," Nick said comfortingly. "But you shouldn't smoke like that. You're going to kill yourself."

Polly looked at him.

A snoring sound came from Bobby Jay in the back seat. He'd fallen asleep. Nick and Polly could hear the Bible tape playing on his Walkman.

"How can he sleep?" Polly said with annoyance. "He was in Vietnam," Nick said, sipping coffee.

"But this person is a contract killer."

"So were the Vietcong," Nick said. He checked his watch. "They're running late tonight."

"It's the dress rehearsal," Polly said. "Maybe the director told them they all sucked and they're going to go through it again." She lit another cigarette. Nick groaned and rolled down the window. She said, "Why don't we just do it tonight and get it over with."

"Polly," Nick said, touching her arm, "just relax."

"Relax," she shuddered. "Two weeks following this. person around New York and you tell me, 'Relax.' "

"Do you want me to rub your neck?"

"Yes," Polly said. "There. Ah."

"What's going on?" Bobby Jay said from the back seat.

"Not much," Nick said. "They're running late."

"I'm glad opening night's tomorrow," Bobby Jay said. "I couldn't take another night of this. This town is not beloved of God."

"Why would anyone want to see H.M.S. Pinafore set in the twenty-seventh century aboard the Starship Enterprise?" Polly said.

"I don't know," Nick said, "but he's playing the right part. Dick Deadeye."

"Do you think he's any good?"

"How good an actor could he be if he has to kill people for a living?" Bobby Jay snorted.

The next night the three of them sat not in a sedan but in a rented panel truck. Polly was behind the wheel, tapping her feet nervously and chewing gum, as Nick had forbidden her to smoke until after the operation was over. She was dressed up as a New York City hooker, gold hot pants, heels, bustier, and so much makeup that her mother might not have recognized her; or, if she had, would have cried. Actually, Nick thought she looked kind of. good. For his part, he was once again sweltering underneath a disguise, a nylon stocking pulled down over his head. Bobby Jay was also uncomfortable, but having spent many a night lying in ambush in warmer places, was keeping cooler than Nick. He was doing a crossword puzzle with a tiny flashlight.

"They're coming out," Polly said, as the doors opened and opera-goers began to spill out onto the trash-strewn sidewalks.

"Do they look uplifted?" Bobby Jay said. "More like relieved," Nick said.

Bobby Jay checked his watch and went back to his crossword puzzle. "Three-letter word for air pollutant beginning with E." "ETS," said Nick. "Environmental Tobacco Smoke." "Fits."