"Did th e money come?"
"Yes, but it was more this time."
He could barely hear her. "What? How muc h more?"
"Two--"
"Listen, okay, tell him it's me. Tali? Don' t worry." He heard her saying, away from the phone , "It's Mr. Rosen."
Rosen sat back in his chair in the semi-dar k room, the Jaffa Gate illuminated outside beyon d the garden. He looked at his watch. Ten-fifteen. H e lit a cigarette and felt ready, a leg up on Mel, read y for Mel's openers. He began to think, If you neve r liked him much, why did you hire him? . . .
"Rosie, Jesus Christ, man, I been worried sick. I t hought you were gonna call this afternoon."
"I didn't know I was supposed to," Rosen said.
"They told you. My flight was due in at on e thirty-five. I've been sitting here, Jesus, worrie d sick."
"How was the flight, Mel? You're feeling a littl e jet lag, I suppose."
"Rosie--"
"Mel, just a minute. Ross . . . Rosen . . . eve n Al. But no Rosie, okay?"
"Sorry. Christ, you're worried about that--Gen e Valenzuela was here."
"Yeah, go on," Rosen said.
"I mean right here in this room. He's looking fo r you."
"Mel, a guy tries to run over me with a car an d takes five shots at me. You think it's some guy of f the street?"
"I mean he walked right in here, he says , 'Where's Ross?' He's not keeping it any secret."
"If I already know the guy's after me--" Rose n said. No, forget it. "Mel, tell me what he said."
"He asked me, he wants to know where you are.
I told him I had no idea. I said I was here to see yo u on business, but now I wasn't sure if you'd contac t me or not."
"What business?"
"I tried to explain that the reason I was here ha d nothing to do with what was going on."
"What business, Mel? You said you wanted t o see me on business."
"It's not something we can handle over th e phone, I mean in any detail," Mel said. "I want t o see you--as I told them, it's the reason I'm here-- b ut under the circumstances I think we're gonn a have to wait. They'll be watching me like a fuckin g hawk, every move I make."
"Tomorrow's payday," Rosen said. "I was wondering if it had arrived."
"Yes, the guy brought it, the Marine."
"Did you look, it's all there?"
"Everything's in order." Mel paused. "As a matter of fact there's more this time. Considerably more."
"Why?" Rosen said.
"Jesus Christ, I never heard anybody questioning money coming in."
"Mel, why'm I getting more?"
"I want to sit down and talk to you, Rosie, as I m entioned. But we can't do it over the phone. Righ t now, the thing to decide is how to get the money t o you."
"Why don't you bring it?" Rosen said. "Then w e can talk."
"That's exactly what I can't do at the presen t time," Mel said. "They're on my ass. I go down t o the lobby, Valenzeula's sitting there reading th e paper."
"What do you want to do, send Tali?"
"Rosie, where are you? You in Tel Aviv?"
"I don't want Tali to deliver it," Rosen said.
"You understand? She's not in this."
"Christ, I'm not either," Mel said. "I'm trying t o help you on something that doesn't concern me a t all, but it's entirely up to you. You tell me wher e you are or where you're gonna be and I'll get th e money to you, somehow, without sending Tali."
"I'll call you back," Rosen said.
"Wait a minute--when?"
"Sometime tomorrow." Rosen hung up.
He lit another cigarette and sat in the evenin g quiet by the window that faced the Old City. H e could still picture in detail the hall in the Detroi t Federal Building, could still see Gene Valenzuel a and Harry Manza coming along with their attorneys. Valenzuela with his heavy, no-shit look, from the time he had been with the Teamsters and th e time he was Harry Manza's construction supervisor: showing the T-shirt beneath the open collar, hair skinned close like a cap over the hard muscle i n his head that narrowed his thinking. No style, n o imagination. He remembered the time the Teamsters had walked out and the independent hauler had been trying to talk to Valenzuela, explai n things,