The voice on the other end said； 〃I know where Pepe Miranda iss。〃
They saw Sixto as he came out of the drugstore。 His face looked flushed。 It seemed as if he were about to cry。 He kept blinking his eyes like a person fighting to hold back tears。
〃What's the matter？〃 Zip asked。 He studied Sixto impersonally； not as if he were truly concerned； not as if he really wanted to know what the matter was； but asking the disguised question； 〃How will your present state affect me？〃
〃Nothin'；〃 Sixto said。
〃You look like somebody hit you with a ball bat。〃
〃No。〃
〃What were you doing in the drugstore？〃
〃Havin〃 a Coke。 I wass thirsty。〃
〃I thought I told you to keep an eye on Alfie's pad。〃
〃I could see his buildin' from where I wass sittin'；〃 Sixto said。
〃We gah dee guns；〃 Papa said； grinning。
〃e on；〃 Zip told them both。 〃Cooch is rounding up some kids。 We got to meet him near the luncheonette。〃
They walked down the avenue together； Zip in the middle flanked by Sixto and Papa。 He felt rather good with the boys on either side of him。 He walked with his shoulders back and his head erect； setting the pace； knowing they would keep up with him； and feeling very friendly towards the boys as he walked； feeling a bond with them which he could not have described accurately if he'd tried。 There was no logic to the bond because he admitted to himself that he didn't even particularly like either Sixto or Papa。 One was a mama's boy and the other was a half…wit。 And yet he could not deny the emotional satisfaction of walking down the avenue with these two by his side； like a general with his trusted aides。 The bod； he knew； would bee stronger once they had washed Alfredo Gomez。 The word crossed his mind； washed； and he was instantly face to face with the other word； the stronger word。 Kill。 He did not flinch from it。 Kill。 He repeated the word in his mind。 Kill。 We will kill Alfredo Gomez。 Kill。
By the time they reached the luncheonette； the word had no more meaning to him than the word 〃wash〃。 Cooch was there； waiting for them。 Two small boys were with him。 Parker； the bull； had taken off； but the sailor was still inside the luncheonette； probably waiting for La Gallina to open； waiting for a Spanish girl。 The idea pleased Zip at first He felt a fierce pride in the knowledge that the sailor had e uptown to seek the passion only a Spanish girl could give him。 And then the pride turned sour； and he thought darkly that the sailor had no right to be here； no right to be emptying himself into Spanish girls； the way sewers empty into the river。 He frowned and cast a black scowl at the sailor's back； and then walked quickly to where Cooch stood with the younger boys。
The first of the boys was wearing dungarees and a white； sweat…stained T shirt。 His nose was running； and he constantly wiped at it with the back of his hand； the mucus streaked there like a healed burn。 He was eight years old。
The other boy was nine。 He wore khaki shorts and a short…sleeved blue sports shirt。 An Army sergeant's stripes had been sewn to the left sleeve of the shirt。 He moved his feet constantly； as if trying to erase chalk from the sidewalk。
〃These the kids？〃 Zip asked Cooch。
〃Yeah；〃 Cooch said。
Zip looked at the one with the snotty nose。 〃What's your name； kid？〃
〃Chico。〃
〃And yours？〃 he said to the other boy。
〃Estaban；〃 the boy answered； his feet erasing invisible chalk。
〃Did Cooch explain the picture to you？〃
〃Si；〃 Chico said。
〃You and Estaban； one on each side of the church steps。 You keep the pieces under your shirts until we get on the scene。 Then you give them to us and hang around until we blast。 We give you back the pieces when it's all over； and you cut out。 You got that？〃
〃Si； yo prendo；〃 Chico said。
〃Si； si；〃 Estaban echoed； his feet moving nervously。 He seemed undecided as to whether he should break into a dance or begin stamping the sidewalk in anger。 Nervously； his feet continued moving。
Zip looked at his watch。 〃Okay； the church bells should begin ringing any minute now。 That'll be first call for the eleven o'clock Mass。 You kids cut out as soon as you hear them bells。 We'll drift up toward the corner around eleven…thirty。 You be ready for us； you hear me？〃
〃Zip； when we grow up； me an' Estaban；〃 Chico said； 〃we coul' go gang…bustin' wi' you？〃
Zip grinned and touched the boy's hair。 〃Sure； when you grow up。 Right now； you have them pieces ready for us when we need them。〃
〃I know how to shoot； Zip；〃 Chico said。 〃I know how to shoot good。〃
Zip laughed aloud。 〃Not this trip； Chico。 You got time yet before you begin。。。〃
The church bells rang suddenly； abruptly； and then were silent。 Whoever was pulling on the cord had made an abortive start； perhaps the cord had slipped from his hands； perhaps he'd had a sudden cramp in his fingers。 The heavy solemn bonnnnng of metal upon metal sounded； reverberated； and then died。 The boys stood in silence； straining for the peal of the bells。 And then the bells started again； ringing out on the still July air； calling the flock to Mass； reaching into the streets and into the open windows； summoning the congregation； summoning Alfredo Gomez to whatever waited for him on the church steps。
〃That's it；〃 Zip said tightly。 He reached beneath his jacket and； one by one； began pulling the weapons from where they were tucked into his belt。 Jeff； in the luncheonette； turned at the sound of the church bells； thinking of China； a smile on his face。 He saw the first weapon pass from Zip's hand to Chico's snot…smeared fist； and he blinked as the other weapons changed hands； watched as the two youngsters tucked them into their waistbands； four guns in all； and then pulled their shirts down over them。
〃Okay； go；〃 Zip said。
The two boys grinned； nodded； and then ran off up the street。 A frown had e onto Jeffs forehead。 He swung his stool around and picked up his cup of coffee。 The church bells had stopped now。 An old man rushed from the mouth of a tenement； paused on the stoop while he pulled on his suit jacket； and then ran spryly up the street。
〃Nice quiet Sunday；〃 Luis said to Jeff； smiling。
Jeff nodded and said nothing。 The four boys in the purple silk jackets had moved to a position near the jukebox。 The street had gone silent again。 It seemed to be a street of many moods and many temperaments； changing in the space of seconds like a vaudeville performer who snaps a wig into place and bees a clown； discards the wig； puts on a black mustache and bees Adolf Hitler。 Now； the street in its sunbath seemed like a golden corridor leading to the high overhead arch of the elevated structure two blocks away； the sky a dazzling yellow…white beyond。 Quiet； burning with light； the street was mute； the street waited。 The boys lounged near the jukebox； their hands in their pockets。 Occasionally they glanced in the direction of the church。 Their eyes were squinted against the reflected sunlight。
The girl turned the corner from the avenue and entered the street like a circus train。 She was wearing a bright…red jacket； a bright…yellow silk shirt； purple spiked…heel shoes with ankle straps。 Her hair was a mass of thick black； sticking out from her head in near…burlesque of a Bushman。 She was carrying a bright…blue carpetbag； and she walked with a suggestive swagger； the yellow skirt tightening over plump； jiggling buttocks； huge breasts jutting from the V…necked opening of the red jacket。 She seemed to be wearing nothing under her outer clothing； and she didn't give a damn who realized it Her buttocks begged to be pinched； her breasts beneath the white rayon blouse and the red jacket pointed sharp nipples like pass needles indicating north。 Her walk did nothing to hide the pulchritude。 This was what she owned； and if she preferred to exhibit her possessions； that was her business。
But despite the suggestive swagger； despite the bobbing breasts and the fluid grinding motion of buttock against buttock； despite an apparent attitude of indifference； the girl seemed frightened and somehow hesitant。 She stared up at the buildings； ogling the city； overwhelmed by the size； somewhat confused and a little lost。
The whistles that came from Zip and Cooch did not help