Fackelmann's scam; the wraith returns (p. 931)
All if Fackelmann just kept his map shut about O’Shay’s confabulation of Yale/Brown//Brown/Yale, mumbled something about an I.V.-adulterant causing a sudden and temporary gigantism in one tit, and blasted out of there straight down Rte. 1 to this one Dr. Wo and Associates, Hung Toy’s Cold Tea Emporium, Chinatown.
Context
Fackelmann in Sorkin's office, one tit bulging with $137.5K, the "high whine" of his mentation working toward a 1.9-million-dollar Dilaudid empire. The idiom migrates to a new body part — map as mouth, cf. Gately on Green at p. 276 — which is its own little joke about representation: keeping the map shut is precisely refusing to let the map (his face, his mouth) report the territory (what actually happened with the bet).