A car pulled up outside. The engine died and doors slammed.

Starlitz walked to the front window, peeked through the blind.

"It's the yuppies from next door," he said. "Looks like they're home early."

"We should introduce ourselves," Raf said. He began combing his hair.

"Uh-oh, scratch that," Starlitz said. "That's the guy who lives next door allright, but that's not the woman. He's got a different woman."

"A girlfriend?" Raf said with interest.

"Well, it's a much younger woman. In a wig, net hose and red high heels." Thedoor in the next duplex opened and slammed. A stereo came on. It was playing ahot Cuban rhumba.

"This is a golden opportunity," said Raf, shoving his coffee mug aside. "Let'sintroduce ourselves now as his new neighbors. He'll be very embarrassed. He'llnever look at us again. He'll never question us. Also, he'll keep his wife awayfrom us."

"That's a good tactic," Starlitz said.

"All right. Let me do the talking." Raf went to the door.

"You still got that Makarov in the back of your belt, man."

"Oh yes. Sorry." Raf tossed the pistol onto the sleek Finnish couch.

Raf opened the front door. Then he back-stepped deftly back into the apartmentand shut the door firmly. "There's a white rental car on the street."

"Yeah?"

"Two men inside it."

"Yeah?"

"Someone just shot them."

Starlitz hurried to the window. There were half a dozen people clustered acrossthe street. Two of them had just murdered Khoklov's bodyguards, suddenlyemptying silenced pistols through the closed glass of the windows. The streetwas not entirely deserted, but killing people with silenced pistols was aremarkably unobtrusive affair if done with brio and accuracy.

Four men began crossing the street. They wore jeans, jogging shoes, and, despitethe heat, box-cut Giorgio Armani blazers. Two of them were carrying dainty