“What do you mean?” Kleinsmidt asked.

“You.”

“The hell I am. I won’t pay you a damn cent.”

“You’re in it just the same.”

“I was following instructions,” Kleinsmidt said.

“Whose?”

“His.” He jerked his head toward Breckenridge.

Breckenridge said, “How much, Lam?”

“Ten thousand or nothing. I’d prefer to have it nothing.”

They looked at me.