"Ahhh, you're a real nervous nellie, Art. I tell you, this place is a leadpipe cinch. He leaves the money in a register my baby brother could walk off with, and the lock on that back door is made out of bubble-gum. Now all we gotta do is wait till about midnight, after the patrol car swings through. It doesn't come back again for forty minutes, and that's more than enough time for what we want to do. What do you say?" "I don't like it." "You don't have to like it. Just do it. Now, what do you say?" "Well, okay." "Good!" Danny settled back and slapped the table. "It's settled, then. Flip picks us up here at eleven thirty and we drive over to Blandina and park behind the billboard on the vacant lot the next block down. Now don't either one of you creeps go fouling up this deal." "What's to foul?" said Flip. "Yeah, you're right. What's to foul?" He slapped the table again. "Hey, who wants a coke? I'll buy." He leaned around the corner of the booth and whistled. "Hey, Janie! Fun time! Tell Sandy to fix us three cokes and come on out and join the party!" * * * * * Art Johnson rounded the corner and approached the coke shop, hands sweaty in anticipation of what was going to happen within the next hour. He wished there was some way for him to back out of the situation and still manage to save face, but it was too late. The pattern was set, and events would ride out to their inevitable climax. Then-- Something clicked. The youth paused in midstride and nearly stumbled. His eyes took on a faraway look. A boy and girl came out of the shop arm-in-arm and nearly walked into him. "Hey, stupid! Watch where you're going." "Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. "Some people," said the boy, "live in a fog." The girl giggled, and Art pushed his way into the packed interior of the shop. "Hey, man!" Danny was holding a booth open. Art pushed his way through the crowd and slid in beside him. "You're late," said Danny. "What happened?" "The old lady stayed up to watch the eleven o'clock news. I had to wait until she was in bed." "Well, it's a good thing you made it. We were about ready to take off without you. Come on, Flip; let's move out." "Just a minute, Danny." "Yeah?" The boy paused, half-risen out of his seat. After staring at Johnson's face, he sat back down again. "What is it, Art boy?" "The deal's off. I'm cutting out." "What?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You crazy man?" "No. That's why I'm cutting out." He sighed. "I didn't like this deal from the word go. You knew that." "Yeah. But I never thought you'd go chicken on us, Art boy. Not on old Danny. That's me, remember? Danny Grissome. What I say, goes. Anything I say goes. Right, Flip?" "Right, Danny." "Right, Art boy?" "Not right, Danny," said Johnson, softly. "You mean it. You really mean it!" He shook his head, sadly. "What's the world coming to?"