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currencies that have never gone out of style.”
    “I said, who are you?”
    “Let’s see. Well, seeing that today certainly is my day—why don’t you call me Wednesday? Mister Wednesday. Although given the weather, it might as well be Thursday, eh?”
    “What’s your real name?”
    “Work for me long enough and well enough,” said the man in the pale suit, “and I may even tell you that. There. Job offer. Think about it. No one expects you to say yes immediately, not knowing whether you’re leaping into a piranha tank or a pit of bears. Take your time.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.
    “I don’t think so,” said Shadow. “I don’t like you. I don’t want to work with you.”
    “Like I say,” said the man, without opening his eyes, “don’t rush into it. Take your time.”
    The plane landed with a bump, and a few passengers got off. Shadow looked out of the window: it was a little airport in the middle of nowhere, and there were still two little airports to go before Eagle Point. Shadowtransferred his glance to the man in the pale suit—Mr. Wednesday? He seemed to be asleep.
    Shadow stood up, grabbed his bag, and stepped off the plane, down the steps onto the slick wet tarmac, walking at an even pace toward the lights of the terminal. A light rain spattered his face.
    Before he went inside the airport building, he stopped, and turned, and watched. No one else got off the plane. The ground crew rolled the steps away, the door was closed, and it taxied off down the runway. Shadow stared at it until it took off, then he walked inside, to the Budget car rental desk, the only one open, and he rented what turned out, when he got to the parking lot, to be a small red Toyota.
    Shadow unfolded the map they had given him. He spread it out on the passenger’s seat. Eagle Point was about two hundred and fifty miles away, most of the journey on the freeway. He had not driven a car in three years.
    The storms had passed, if they had come this far. It was cold and clear. Clouds scudded in front of the moon, and for a moment Shadow could not be certain whether it was the clouds or the moon that was moving.
    He drove north for an hour and a half.
    It was getting late. He was hungry, and when he realized how hungry he really was, he pulled off at the next exit, and drove into the town of Nottamun (pop. 1,301). He filled the gas-tank at the Amoco, and asked the bored woman at the cash register where the best bar in the area was—somewhere that he could get something to eat.
    “Jack’s Crocodile Bar,” she told him. “It’s west on County Road N.”
    “Crocodile Bar?”
    “Yeah. Jack says they add character.” She drew him a map on the back of a mauve flyer, which advertised a chicken roast to raise money for a young girl who needed a new kidney. “He’s got a couple of crocodiles, a snake, one a them big lizard things.”
    “An iguana?”
    “That’s him.”
    Through the town, over a bridge, on for a couple of miles, and he stopped at a low, rectangular building with an illuminated Pabst sign, and a Coca-Cola machine by the door.
    The parking lot was half-empty. Shadow parked the red Toyota and went inside.
    The air was thick with smoke and “Walkin’ after Midnight” was playing on the jukebox. Shadow looked around for the crocodiles, but could not see them. He wondered if the woman in the gas station had been pulling his leg.
    “What’ll it be?” asked the bartender.
    “You Jack?”
    “It’s Jack’s night off. I’m Paul.”
    “Hi, Paul. House beer, and a hamburger with all the trimmings. No fries.”
    “Bowl of chili to start? Best chili in the state.”
    “Sounds good,” said Shadow. “Where’s the restroom?”
    The man pointed to a door in the corner of the bar. There was a stuffed alligator head mounted on the door. Shadow went through the door.
    It was a clean, well-lit restroom. Shadow looked around the room first; force of habit. (“Remember, Shadow, you can’t