They both remained silent, so he got to his feet, turned to look at them, and said, “And here's another question you oughta ask yourself. How long are you two gonna be on the same side?” He smiled goodbye, and went out to look at nothing go by on the tracks outside, and a little later, when he went back in to use the phone, they were gone.
But it was his fifth try on the phone, at quarter to six, when at last she answered: “Goldfarb.”
“Meehan,” he said.
“Well, hello. Where are you?”
“Not in the MCC,” Meehan said, “which is where Jeffords tried to put me.”
“Why, that son of a bitch. Though I'm not surprised, I must say. What, are you hiding out? Headed for Idaho?”
“No, I'm safe,” Meehan said, and couldn't believe it himself. “Free and clear and safe. And I wonder if I should come back to the city and we talk.”
“Meehan,” she said, “I can't ask you to reform.”
“No, I know.”
“So I can't be around you. You understand that.”
“I was thinking.” he said. “I'm gonna be flush for a while, because of today.”
“No details!”
“No, don't worry. But I was thinking, before I'm broke again, with your connections, you could probly set me up with one of those social services outfits, you know, counselors to ex-cons, that kind of thing.”
Sounding extremely suspicious, she said, “Telling them what?”
“How to be rehabilitated,” he said. “How to make the ten thousand rules work for you.”
“The what?”
“I never told anybody about those before,” he said. “That's a long conversation. Should I grab a train here, come back to the city?”
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