Twelve Trains to Babylon [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE'Are you there?'Someone was pounding on the steel door of my loft. It thundered into the rainstorm of a dream.Waking, I was startled. I had not dreamed in years.'It's Sugar Red!' For a backslapper of accomplished nonchalance, his tone was peculiarly urgent. 'There's a letter!'Til be down for it.'The alarm clock rang as his footsteps receded. He knew my policy. Although I trusted Sugar Red, no one but Joe Hull, my doorman, was allowed past that airtight door.I shaved, dressed for work, and went downstairs. Joe was asleep, sprawled across my street doorway. I kicked the soles of his shoes. He jumped up immediately.'Someone came up,' I said.'I heard him.''What do you think I pay you for?''Only Sugar Red, that's who it was.'I watched Sugar Red through the window. He was making the morning bottle count. Sugar Red was a hulking man, constantly perspiring. He had bought out the bar and grill on the first floor of my building about two months after my arrival. Very quickly he became cele'bra^ted for his free drinks and fast-energy wine cakes, and for the huge freckles that congregated on one side of his face.'Do better, will you, Joe?' I said.'I need breakfast.''Come on.'Sugar Red looked up as we came in the door. He took the letter from the cash register and placed it in my hand.'Expecting bad news?' he said. 'You look worried.''Give Joe a coffee and wine cake.'He was guessing. As I read the letter, I knew that my face told him nothing.