“Of course I’ve been along on some jailbreaks,” the bodyguard declared, drawing himself up proudly. “I’ve been an accomplice on three jailbreaks. What kind of Mob member do you take me for, anyway?”
With a heroic effort I resisted the temptation to answer that particular rhetorical question.
“Okay. So how about a few pointers? This is my first jailbreak, and I want it to go right.”
I was all set to settle in for a fairly lengthy lecture, but instead of launching into the subject, Guido looked a bit uncomfortable.
“Umm . . . actually, Boss, I don’t think you’d want to use any of the plans I followed. You see, all three of ’em were busts. None of ’em worked, and in two of the capers, the guy we were tryin’ to save got killed. That’s how I know about what a bad rap a jailbreak is, know what I mean?”
“Oh, swell! Just swell! Tell me. Mister bodyguard, with your allergies and zero-for-three record at jailbreak, did you ever do anything for the Mob that worked?”
A gentle hand fell on my shoulder from behind.
“Hey! Ease up a little. High Roller,” Massha said softly. “I know you’re worried about your partner, but don’t take it out on Guido . . . or me, either, for that matter. We may not be much, but we’re here and trying to help as best we can when we’d both just as soon be back at the Bazaar. You’re in a bad enough spot without starting a two-front war by turning on your allies.”
I started to snap at her, but caught myself in time. Instead, I drew a long ragged breath and blew it out slowly. She was right. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point . . . which served me right for not following my own advice.