Ford leaned against the wall of the pool hall watching Roco and Jake play their thirteenth game of the night. A Lucky Stike hung loosely from the side of his mouth, a trail of smoke winding up into the air of the already smokey room.

Roco sank the last of the solid balls to the accompanying curse of Jake.

"Ya lucky bastard!" Jake slammed down a twenty spot on the table and grabbed his coat from the rack beside Ford. Jake never even looked at Ford as he slammed his hat on his head and stomped from the hall.

"I need some rent money next week, make sure you come around!" Roco called after Jake as he added the twenty to a wad of other bills he pulled from his pocket and began to count out. "Sore fuckin' loser." Roco pulled his shoulder holster from where it was slung on the coat rack and began to fasten in back on.

Ford yawned and looked at his watch. Quarter til one. A Packard rolled by outside, slowing briefly as it pulled alongside the plateglass window of the poolhall. Two men in fedoras and coats looked from the darkened interior of the car towards the hall. The car honked three times and then rolled on.

Rico turned to Ford. "That's Ziggy's boys, and our cue."

Ford knew he and Roco were supposed to meet two henchmen of Mad Dog Coll and to pick up an item they had filched for Mr. Luciano.

What the Shadows did not know is that the item was one Dear Old Dad had wanted him to "pick up". The item was supposed to be merely an antique. In all actuality, it really WAS an ancient artifact with great powers in Amber. Here in the Shadows it was just a very valuable antique. Then again, in Amber, the .45 resting under his arm was just a paperweight.

"Hey, wake the fuck up!" Roco pushed Ford into the wall. "We got business to tend to." Roco did not know Ford here. Ford was just some extra muscle hired by Mr. Luciano in this Shadow. Ford's did not let his demeanor betray the desire to break Roco's arm that sprang up.

"Sorry, bub! Just a little sleepy, Roco." Roco was physically larger than Ford and he imagined he was much stronger than the new guy Lucky had hired for the night. Roco did not know who this new guy was, but he intended to make sure this little pip squeak knew he was in command.

"Let's go, just follow my lead. Don't do nothin' unless I say so." Roco pulled on his trenchcoat and hat and they went out the back door of the pool hall into the fenced-in back lot.

Rain stood in pools around the back lot. The red neon lights of the pool hall reflecting in the water made it look like blood. The two men were stepping from the Packard when Ford and Roco walked out of the back of the pool hall. Both men were large and wore long, dark trench coats and had their fedoras pulled down low.

"You Roco?" The farthest of the two thugs called from the far side of the Packard as he began to walk around. A large leather case was in his left hand. The closer thug was pulling his gloves off.

"Yeah. You got?" Roco spoke in mono syllables. Ford stood to the left and behind Roco and watched. He had a sawed-off shotgun tucked under his own coat, picked up in the back room of the pool hall before coming out.

The farther thug held up the case. "Yeah. You got the ten grand we agreed on?"

"Yeah..." Roco reached in his coat and pulled out a revolver and began firing.

Mentally, Ford rolled his eyes. This guy had no class and no imagination. A bomb in the payoff case. Laying in wait with a Thompson submachine gun around the corner. Something. This was so frickin' amateurish. Ford joined in and fired his shotgun at the closer thug, watching as he folded at the waist and dropped to the ground. He never got around to pulling his pistol, just looking at his gloves as he hit the pavement.

Roco and the other thug fired away at each other across the car before Roco put one through his opponent's eye. The Packard was riddled. Ford found this just the cherry on the topping of the entire event. In disgust, Ford used the other barrel on Roco. Brain-matter and blood finishing the job buckshot and bullets had already begun on the car.

Ford walked around the front of the car, shaking his head. "Damn shame. A beautiful car."

Ford pried the dead thug's clenched fingers from the case and put it on the hood of the car.

He could not resist taking a look. He knew his father would ask him if he had looked. He knew his father would figure he had, even if he hadn't. If you're gonna get blamed for it, you had might as well at least enjoy doing it...

Ford pulled a leathery tome from the case. The cover was of some skin, Ford guessed human, and the writing was in Summerian.

"Another Necronomicon, eh?" Ford knew Caine had at least one or two of these stored away in various spots. Apparently he either found another copy or had lost one and wanted it recovered...

Ford tucked the book back in the case and took Roco's keys from his pocket. He dropped the shotgun beside the body and walked around to the alleyway where Roco's car was parked.

Soon, the darkened sky outside the car was changing colors and the road to Amber had began...