"Where are they now?" Greta said.

Robin and Donnell were at the Gnome on Woodward Avenue, a new-wave Middle Eastern restaurant that featured jazz, the McKinney brothers on piano and bass.

Robin suggested it, her apartment was only a few blocks away. Donnell knew the place from bringing Mr. Woody here now and again; the man not caring too much for the lamb dishes, but ate up the way the brothers performed on show tunes. Donnell arrived a half hour late, picked up a scotch and Perrier at the bar, waved to the McKinneys and joined Robin, waiting in a booth with a glass of red wine, playing with her braid. He let her tell him, with three cigarette butts in the ashtray and another one going, she just got here; then felt her looking him over as he sipped his drink and settled in, letting his gaze wander over to the sound of mellow jazz.

She said, "I hope you have more to say than the last time we were together. Remember, in the bathroom? You watched yourself in the mirror… I suppose to see what a good time you were having." She said, "When I called today, the first time, did you have any idea who it was?"

"Yeah, I knew."

"You did not."

Donnell said, "Girl, I'm being nice to you. How long I can manage it is something else. I do remember us being in the bathroom. Only I ought to tell you, that wasn't the last time I had any pussy, understand? I've had some since then. Now we have that out of the way, you tell me what we come here for. See, I have to get back home soon, case Mr.

Woody wakes up in the dark and don't know where he's at."

Robin said, "Yeah, but have you done it in a bathroom since then?"

Donnell said,-"Shit," and had to grin at her. He took a sip of his drink.

"Let's get to it. Tell me you setting the bombs or somebody else?"

"You remember Skip?"

"Which one was he?"

"Kind of a biker type with a ponytail."

"Look like a bum. Huey P. Newton's lawyer had a ponytail and that man was wealthy. Yeah, I remember Skip.

He's the one done the bombs, huh?"

Robin gave him a nod.

"What happened to the one today?"

"We'll get to that. First I want to know about Skippy.

Where's he at, hiding someplace?"

"We'll have to get to that, too," Robin said.

"After I called this morning, did you present my demands to Woody?"

Donnell smiled a little.

"Yeah, I presented your demands. I'm trying to think of what Mr. Woody said. I think he said, "Oh, really?" Something like that."

He watched Robin draw on her cigarette and blow the smoke out hard and then flick ash.

She said, "Well, obviously the bomb didn't go off."

Donnell didn't say anything.

"If it did it would've been on the news." She drew on her cigarette again.

"We have to trust each other. Look, I know you're cool, okay? So don't overdo it."

"Girl, you the one called the meeting."

"I want to hear you say something, that's all. I want to be sure."

Donnell said, "Wait now. You blow up the man's car knowing I could've been in it, but not caring shit whether I was or not."

She was shaking her head saying, "No, uh-unh," even before he finished.

"I never thought that for a minute."

"You didn't have to think it, you knew it. You send me a bag of dynamite, leave it by the door, and you want to know can you trust me.

I have to think on that one, see if it makes any sense."

He listened to Robin say his name, "Donnell?" with a nice tone, slowing up and looking him in the eye, like to let him know this was from her soul.

"We haven't seen each other in sixteen years. That's a long time, isn't it?"

Donnell said, "Let me get the McKinneys to play something bluesy."

That jerked her line.

"Don't do that. Don't fuck with me, okay? I'm saying it's been a long time, I wasn't thinking of you one way or the other. I wasn't even sure you worked for him. I saw you only once and thought, Is that Donnell? But when I was talking to you on the phone, this morning, I knew. I felt some awfully nice vibes. I wanted to call you right back, really, and say, Hey, let's do this together."

"Except there was a bomb gonna explode. You said to me I'd hear it in about two minutes. Oh, you were angry, I could hear that too."

Robin waited a moment, staring at him.

"It didn't go off, did it?"

"Let me tell you what I feel about this, kind of vibes 7 get," Donnell said.

"A person that sends bombs, they into heavy shit. What I see you doing, you're thinking how you can use me, being on the inside. See, I understand that.

You're not thinking to favor me none 'less it helps you."

"We both make out," Robin said.

"You've been with Woody how long, three years? And you're still driving him around. What else-cleaning up after him? You need somebody on the outside."

"I'm looking at that," Donnell said, "as it happens to fit into my plan. But do I need somebody outside known for making bombs? That's the question I ask myself. What happens the police want to talk to you?"

"They already have. It was all show, nothing to it."

The woman wanting him to think it was nothing. Donnell eased back against the cushion, watching her smoke her cigarette like she was enjoying it.

"They got on you quick, didn't they?"

She said to him, "They use computers now, Donnell."

He didn't care for that shitty tone of voice.

"They feed in names and if you know either one of the Ricks brothers and you happen to have a sheet, there it is.

The cops talked to you, didn't they? What's the difference?"

"Man, we cool, huh?"

She said, "I'm not worried. Are you?"

Donnell put his arms on the table again.

"They talk to Skippy?"

"Skippy's well hidden."

"Bet you thought you were, too, but they come knocking at your door."

Donnell leaned on his arms, getting closer to her.

"I'm gonna tell you something. There's a dude knows what you're doing.

The dude even guessed close to what I'm doing. I mean it was barely in my head what I'm doing and the dude knew it."

She wasn't cool now, unh-unh, staring at him.

"You hear what I'm saying? This dude is on us."

"Who is he?"

"Name Mankowski."

That poked her.

She said, "I know him-he's a cop. " And stubbed her cigarette out, hard.

"Used to be. They suspended his ass, threw him out.

But he keeps coming around like this." Donnell reached across the table, laying the palm of his hand in front of her.

"You know what I'm saying? Comes by with his hand out.

The dude's looking to score."

She was still on the edge of her seat.

"But I met him. He was one of the cops."

"He show you I.D.?"

"I don't remember."

"

"Cause he don't have none."

Confusing the poor woman.

"Then what's he up to?"

"What I'm telling you, girl, the dude's Mr. Shakedown.

Was on their rape squad when they threw him out. And before that, guess what he was?"

You know, at first," Greta said, "he doesn't seem like a bad guy. I mean getting arrested for creating an improper diversion… But here's something else." She turned her head on the pillow to look at Chris.

"You awake?"

"Yeah, I'm reading."

"Anything good?"

"I think I've found it. The part Robin doesn't want anybody to read."

"Go ahead, I'll wait."

"No, tell me about Donnell."

"Well, he and some other Black Panthers…" Greta looked at the sheet resting against her raised knees.

"Here it is… were arrested and charged with kidnapping and beating a fellow member of the party. Young guy, eighteen years old. He said they beat him with, quote, blunt instruments and then burned him with cigarette lighters and poured scalding water on him mixed with grease.

The victim admitted himself to New Grace and the hospital called the police. Upon being questioned he told them the names of his assailants, including Donnell, saying they had accused him of breaking rule number eight of the Black Panther Party. But then in court, at the pretrial examination, he changed his mind. He said he couldn't identify his assailants and that the police coerced him into signing the complaint. So Donnell and his buddies were released. He was picked up right after that on a federal gun charge, convicted and sent to prison."