He pounded Cooper's slack shoulders with his fists, propelled him to the door and thrust him out. He motioned to Gabby to follow and walked behind Cooper, forcing him back into the crush. Lennox kept muttering: "Smile. Grin. Shove it down their throats. They hate your guts. They hate anybody who gets a break. Well, hate 'em back. Show 'em!"
Lennox patrolled Cooper for a few minutes, showing his teeth in the icy, cutting smile called The Agency Knife. Then he took Gabby to the bar for a drink. He was sardonic, hostile, unyielding. Gabby had never seen him look more dangerous. Once again she was repelled by that frozen exterior that the business knew so well, but now she knew that this was only a part of Lennox. She took his arm with both hands and tugged gently.
"You're frightening me," she whispered. "Stop looking like that, Jordan. You're like you were in the taxi Christmas night."
"Thieves," Lennox growled. "Killers. Poison eaters! All of them. Trying to cut Sam's throat. Mine too. I won't let 'em. We'll hold on to our sanity. All of us. Won't we?" He glared at Gabby.
"Yes, sir, Captain Hook, sir," she quavered.
"And we'll give 'em nothing. Nothing! You hear me, Gabby Valentine?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's my girl. Now let's go find a place and talk."
There were only three people in the smaller sound studio, clustered around a piano flanked by microphones on stands. A bass fiddle and two copper-bottomed kettle drums stood in a corner. Still raging, Lennox stalked in with Gabby and flashed The Agency Knife on the strangers.
"I'd like a word in private with my mother," he said. "Would you mind? Thanks very much."