"I _am_ a big wheel," Tony protested. "In the used 'copter racket." Anita was already reaching up to push down on my shoulders. "Won't you sit down?" she demanded. She had me in one of the comfortable chairs I have in my office for callers, rather off to one side. She put herself down in the chair across my desk from Tony Carlucci, as though she were getting instructions. He didn't need much hinting. "Tell the bulls we're gonna clean up the District," he started, waving his hands around. "No more poker. No more dice. No more Sneaky Pete." I'd never heard of that. "Shut up!" Anita said. "He'll be here any instant." Fred was as good as her word. He was holding the door for his telepath within seconds. Tony Carlucci stopped hamming it up and straightened importantly in my chair. I had to admit that Anita had found a guy who, superficially, resembled me more than a little. No one who knew either of us would ever mistake one for the other, but our general descriptions were quite similar. The woman who came in not only was a gypsy, she was dressed as a gypsy. Her blouse was white, and quite frilly. She had on a billowing red skirt, liberally encrusted with embroidered beads of a darker red. The tattered hem of a petticoat hung below it. Her hair had been dark once, but it was shot with threads of silver. There was a lot of it, and piled up high so that her ears were exposed. They had pierced lobes, and heavy gold rings hung from them. Instinctively I closed my mind as tight as a clam. The mere sight of a telepath triggers that reaction. Fred closed the door behind him, continuing to stand just behind his captive. She glanced briefly at me and then looked for a longer moment at Tony Carlucci, behind my desk. "Joe," she said to him. "Joe, don't let them do this to me!" I don't know how much coaching Anita had given Carlucci, but he knew enough to call her "mother." And I knew enough to watch Fred Plaice the instant Tony said: "Oh, mother! Why the devil couldn't you keep out of sight!" Fred was one mighty confused looking boy. The two-bit word is consternation. He had it. Anita had given him the business. "I'm sorry, madame," I said standing and walking over to where Tony was emoting, with the back of his hand pressed to his eyes. "We threw you a curve. Meet Mr. Tony Carlucci." Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "And I, madame, am Joseph Tinker." "Joe!" she cried, or wailed is a better word, and threw herself around the desk to seize me in her arms. She smelled faintly of garlic, oregano and some kind of incense, maybe sandalwood. A nice clean gypsy smell. Cleaner than a lot of gypsies I can think of. Fred pulled her off me, not too gently. I'd say he was a little sore about something. Anita's eyes were slits of fury. "Thanks, Tony," I said. "See you around."