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There was just enough time, I hoped, to make one last call before most businesses started to shut up shop for the evening rest period. Well, most conventional businesses, those businesses conducted at least mostly legally. Those convinced of the truth of the statement "crime doesn't pay" should take a very close look at the way those less-legal enterprises are at work twenty-four hours a day. And some more legitimate ones - like mine, for example. Once I was a few blocks away from the 14th precinct police house, I ducked into a sidewalk diner, one I had never visited before. I didn't think anybody was following me; it was just the normal kind of paranoia that everybody in my profession seems to develop after a few years, if you manage to survive that long. I sat in a booth right by the public phone, one with a good view through the windows. I ordered a coffee from a sullen youth in an apron; the beverage was delivered quickly and with a notable lack of delicacy. I sipped my coffee - it was weak and stale-tasting - while pretending to be immersed in a day-old newspaper that some previous customer had left on the bench. After ten minutes, and no sign of a tail, I simply followed Luncardy's advice: I looked up Coupar Angus in the Yellow Pages. He was remarkably easy to find in the directory. At the beginning of the appropriate section I could not help but notice a half-page advertisement proclaiming in bold type: "Coupar Angus and Associates: Realtors. Exclusive properties in all areas." I jotted down addresses and phone numbers in my notebook, threw a small bill on the table to cover the price of my coffee - a total rip-off, of course - and set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the nearest transit tube entrance.
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Part 39