"Sure," Cooch answered.
"Okay, Alfie's going to eleven o'clock Mass, like he always does. Mass'11 break around eleven-forty, a quarter to twelve. I want to get him on the steps as he's coming out."
"On dee!"
"On the steps! All four of us blast together, and nobody stops until Alfie's down. You better shoot straight 'cause there'll be a lot of innocent people around."
"Zip, on dee church steps?" Sixto said. His face was twisted in pain. "Ave Maria, cann we...?"
"On the steps, I said! Where everybody'll see him die. We've got fou'r pieces. I'm using the .45 because I want to blow that creep's head off."
The organ-grinder stopped his music. The street seemed suddenly silent.
"There's two .38s and the Luger," Zip whispered. "Take whatever you want."
"The Luger," Cooch said.
"You got it. Sixto, you and Papa'11 use the .38s. The pieces are up at my pad. We get them first, and then round up a couple of gun bearers." He paused for a moment. "Second thought, you better stay here, Sixto. Keep an eye on Alfie's house. Right around the corner. The first building."
"Okay," Sixto said blankly.
"Make sure he don't leave. If he does, follow him. If you ain't here when we get back, we'll start looking for you."
"Okay."
"What?"
"I said okay."
"Okay," Zip repeated. "Come on." He put his arm around Cooch as they began walking toward his building, Papa shuffling along beside them. "You excited, Cooch?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess. A little."
"Man, I'm excited. This day is beginning to tick, you know what I mean? Things are moving!"
"Yeah, that's true," Cooch said.
"Some Sundays, you can sit on that front stoop and go nuts. Especially like now in the summer. But today is different. Today, there's like a million things to do, ain't there? What I'm trying to say, Cooch, this makes me feel good. This action, you know? Man, it makes me feel real good!"
Cooch grinned as the three boys entered the tenement. "It ain't gonna make Alfie feel so good," he said.
Sixto stood on the corner outside the luncheonette, watching Alfredo's building, nervously biting his lower lip.
Inside the luncheonette, Jeff handed his fortune slip to Luis and said, "How do you like that?"
"Be patient and of firm resolve," Luis read, "and you will achieve all your ends."
"Yeah," Jeff said. "What time does La Gallina open?"
"I had hoped you would forget La Gallina."
"Well, since I'm already up here..." Jeff shrugged and let the sentence trail. "What time does it open?"
"This is Sunday," Luis said, "and La Gallina is a bar among other things. It does not open until noon."
"Then I've got plenty of time yet."
"If you'd take my advice..."
"Hey! Hey your the voice bellowed, and they both turned simultaneously to face the street. Andy Parker seemed to have materialized from nowhere. He approached Sixto, who stood on the corner, and shouted, "You! You there!"
Sixto, frightened, began to inch away from him "Me?" he asked. "Me?"
"What are you doing?" Parker asked, coming up close to him.
"Nothin'. I wass ony jus' standin'..."
"Against the wall!"
"Huh?"
Parker seized his jacket front and slammed him up against the supporting post at the corner of the luncheonette. "I said against the wall!"
"I ... I dinn do nothin'," Sixto said. "I wass only jus'..."
"Bend over!"
Sixto stared at him blankly, uncomprehendingly.
"Bend over, goddamnit!" Parker shouted.
Sixto still did not understand. Furiously, because he felt his command was being openly flouted, Parker chopped a fast right to Sixto's gut, doubling him over. He spun him around then so that he faced the corner post, his hands clutching his stomach, his head bent.
"Put your hands against the wall, palms flat, goddamnit, do what I tell you!" Parker shouted.
Sixto, doubled over with pain, made an abortive attempt to stretch out his arms, clutched his stomach again, and then shoved his arms out convulsively when Parker hit him in the ribs. He extended his hands and placed them, trembling, against the corner post. Quickly, Parker frisked him. He did an intent and thorough job, so thorough that he did not notice Frankie Hernandez who walked up the street and stopped just short of the luncheonette.
"Turn around!" Parker shouted. "Now empty your pockets! Everything on the sidewalk! Hurry up!"
Hernandez walked to where they were standing. "Leave him alone, Andy," he said. He turned to Sixto. "Take off, kid."
Sixto hesitated, frightened, looking first to one detective and then the other.
"Get out of here, go ahead! Beat it!"
Sixto hesitated a moment longer, and then broke into a sprint around the corner, racing up the avenue.
"Thanks, Frankie," Parker said sarcastically.
"There's nothing in the penal code that makes it a crime for a kid to be minding his own business, Andy."
"Who's saying anything?" Parker said. He paused. "But suppose that nice innocent kid was holding a deck of heroin?"
"He wasn't holding anything. He's no junkie, and you know it. He comes from a good family."
"Oh, is that right? Junkies don't come from good families, huh? Suppose he was holding, Frankie? Just suppose?"
"The only thing he's holding right now is contempt for the cop who shook him down."
"Seems to me you should be interested in looking up the people who are doing something wrong," Jeff said from the luncheonette.
"We do, sailor," Parker answered. "Day and night. That kid belongs to a street gang, don't he? You saw his club jacket, didn't you? Do you expect me to take crap from every hoodlum on the street?"
"That kid probably has little enough self-respect as it is," Hernandez said. "So you come along and..."
"All right, all right, cut it out with the kid, will you? Boy, you'd think I worked him over with a rubber hose." He paused. "Where you headed?"
"To see the Gomez woman," Hernandez said.
"She was quite a little trick, that Gomez woman. Pushing fifty, maybe, but still got it all in the right places. You sure this is a business call, Frankie?"
"I'm sure," Hernandez said.
"Well, just so long as you're sure. Was there any word on Miranda back at the squad?"
"Not when I left, no."
"You know," Luis said thoughtfully, "I think maybe Frankie's right. I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Andy. Don't think that. But this boy could be hurt by such treatment. What I mean ... well ... on the island, it was not this way."
"Juvenile gangs ain't a problem in Puerto Rico," Parker said flatly.
"No, of course not, but that's not what I meant. There just seemed to be ... I don't know ... more respect there."
"For what? For siestas?" Parker asked, and he burst out laughing.
"Well, now you're making it a joke," Luis said, embarrassed.
"Me? Why should I joke about your homeland?"
"It was just... you know... we were poor and hungry, true. But there was always the plaza in the center of town, and the pink church, and the poinsettias, and the mango trees. And you could go to the plaza and talk to your friends. And you were a person, and people knew your name. It was important, Andy. You knew who you were."
"Who- were you, Luis?" Parker said, chuckling. "The governor?"
"Ah, he makes it a joke," Luis said good-naturedly. "You know what I mean, don't you, Frankie?"
"Yes. I know what you mean."
"Sometimes here, you feel lost. And without identity, there can be no dignity, no respect."
"I know just what you mean, Louise," Jeff said. "It's like what I was telling you about Fletcher. How you can just get swallowed up in a pile of people and forget who and what you are."