Surrounded

lessons."
        Tucker laughed. "What is she-sixty-four?"
        "Sixty-three," Felton said. "I told her she'd be making a fool of herself. But you know something? When she comes home from the lessons and shows me what she's learned, she gets me so excited I'm like a honeymooning bridegroom again." His own chuckle complemented Tucker's laugh. "But this isn't what you called about. You got my letter?"
        "An hour ago," Tucker said.
        The letter had been in the morning's mail at Tucker's midtown Manhattan post-office box: a white envelope with no return address. He knew it was from Clitus before he opened it because he received letters exactly like it once every month or so. Half that often, it was something worth following up. Clitus Felton earned his way as liaison between criminal free-lancers on the East Coast. Once he had been in the business himself, pulling off two or three big robberies a year. But he was old now, sixty-eight, nearly forty years older than Tucker. And he had retired because Dotty was afraid that his luck was running out. However, after six months in the bookstore, he had known he would be unhappy as long as he was permanently estranged from the old life, the old excitement. Therefore, he had contacted friends and offered his middle-man services. He kept names, aliases, and addresses all in his head, and when someone contacted him to find the right partners for a job, Felton considered the possibilities and wrote a few letters and tried to help. In return, he got five per cent of the take if the job went as planned. It was second-hand excitement, but it kept him going.
        "Your letter mentioned bank work," Tucker said. "You know I don't like bank work."
        "The letter also mentioned that it was different from your usual bank work," Felton said. "It's very different. Safer, surer, with a bigger-than-average reward."
        "Where?"
        "California."
        "That's a long way from home," Tucker said.
        "It's always best to work that way," the old man said. "Don't you agree?"
        "I guess I do."
        At the far end of the corridor a young couple turned the corner and started down the long hall toward Tucker. The girl was searching the bottom of her purse and passing change over to the young man with her. Clearly they were going to use one of the pay phones.
        "I can't talk much longer," Tucker said. "Can we get down to basic facts?"
        "You should get in touch with Frank Meyers," Felton said. "You know him? Ever worked with him before?"
        "No."
        "He's right there in your city."
        "Is this his job?"
        "Yeah. He lived in California for a while-that's where he got the idea," Felton said. "He's a good man."
        "We'll see," Tucker said, watching the young couple as they drew nearer. The boy had hair to his shoulders and looked out of place in a well-cut business suit. The girl was dark and pretty. "When can you set up a meeting?"
        "I'll give you his home address," Felton said.
        Tucker frowned. "He doesn't mind my knowing it? He's that careless?"
        "He isn't careless," Felton said. "He-"
        "I don't like working with a man who can't separate his professional and private lives."
        "Not everyone's as fanatical about that as you are," the old man said. "Lots of guys have been in the business for years and years, not separating anything, and they haven't taken any falls. I can name dozens."
        "Sooner or later they'll get bitten," Tucker said.
        "Then you aren't interested in this?" Felton asked.
        "I'm interested," Tucker said. He had to be interested because he needed the money. He took a note pad and pen from his jacket pocket and copied down Frank Meyers' address.
        "I'm sure you'll like the setup once Frank explains it to you," Felton said. "If you don't… Tell Frank to let me know if you aren't interested. I know I can find someone else for him."
        "I'll do that," Tucker said.
        "It really is a sweet job, Mike."
        "I hope so. I need it right now. Otherwise, I wouldn't even give this one a second thought."
        "He's good. I guarantee it."
        "Give Dotty my love," Tucker said as the young couple stopped at the telephone next to his.
        "Good luck, Mike."
        "Sure," Tucker said, hooking the receiver in its cradle. He smiled at the girl, nodded at the boy, and walked back toward the main