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toward Jack.
    “Oh, yeah, you are one dead mother,” another biker, Popeye, added.
    “That wouldn't be smart,” Jack said, releasing the pressure on the leader's arm a little. “I saw the bartender call the state police about two minutes ago. They're undoubtedly on their way here now. You haven't done anything chargeable yet. But if you hit Mr. Williams here you'll end up in jail, probably for a long, long stretch.”
    “Yeah, but you twisted his—”
    “It's all right, Terry,” Lucky said. “He had to do that to stop me. Mister, you just did us a big favor. What's your name?”
    “Jack Morrison,” Jack said, using his undercover name. “Don't like to see a brother take a fall when he don't have to.”
    “Who you ride with?” Lucky asked.

    “Gypsy Jokers,” Jack said. “Out of Portland.”
    “Come see me at the Coyote,” Lucky said. “We might do some business.”
    Jack gave Lucky a little salute, and the biker turned and looked at Alex Williams.
    “You were real lucky just now, old man,” he said.
    “Sometimes it's better to be lucky, Lucky,” the old man said.
    “Funny. But I got a feeling your luck ain't gonna hold,” Lucky added. Then he motioned to his men. “Out of here. Now.”
    He nodded to Jack again and they all cleared out, like a pack of wild dogs.
    Back at the patio, Alex Williams and the other Blue Wolf oldsters raised their glasses to Jack.
    “To our benefactor and friend,” Alex said. “Thinks, Jack. We owe you one.”
    “Nah,” Jack said. “Looked to me like you had the situation well under control.”
    “Not at all. If Lucky had landed that blow he would have probably broken all the bones in my face.”
    The others at the table nodded in agreement. Alex Williams introduced his dining partners.
    “Jack, this is Ellen Garcia, one of the founders of Blue Wolf.”
    Jack looked over at the white-haired Mexican woman whose right arm was in a sling.
    “Nice to meet you, Jack,” she said. Though her face was lined, her blue eyes shone with intelligence and clarity.
    “Good to meet you, too,” Jack said. “What happened to your arm?”
    “Old age happened to it,” Ellen said. “But we've got some terrific new methods at Blue Wolf, and before long it's going to be just like new.”

    Jack smiled and nodded, but wondered silently if she was just kidding herself. Still, he reminded himself, there were amazing new things happening every day. What did he really know about any of it?
    “And this is Nigel Russell,” Williams said. “He's our program developer.”
    Jack looked at the heavyset man with the big back brace, and smiled.
    “Nice work, Jack. I thought for a second I was going to have to take the jerk out myself.”
    The table howled at that, and Nigel gave Jack a mischievous grin.
    Jack was then introduced to a woman who was all hunched over, Sally Amoros. Sally was the head of something called Ancient Ways.
    “They gave me that post because I'm so fucking ancient,” she said. The group at the table cracked up, including Jack.
    Jack then met the man with the cane, Desmond Phillips, and the man with the eye patch, Jerry Hoffman. Hoffman was an architect, and the head of new building for Blue Wolf, and Desmond Phillips was the comptroller of the corporation. They, like the others, were witty and completely free of self-pity.
    “You really saved the day, Jack,” Hoffman said.
    “No problem. Maybe you people need some security.”
    “Thanks, but we have it,” Williams said. “Anyway, these things rarely happen. Blue Wolf is a spa vacation spot and a deeply spiritual world. If we're involved in physical ugliness . . . well, it just isn't good for the resort's image or Blue Wolf's stockholders.”
    “Not to mention our souls,” Sally Amoros said, and several other members added, “Amen.”
    Jack nodded.
    “You know, we don't usually get bothered by the bikers because they're busy hating their rivals, the Jesters. About twice a year they war and kill one