“Yes. With the long hair.”

Maya nodded. “He’ll do.”

Capoeira was a peculiar mixture of grace and violence that looked like a ritualized dance. After Hollis and the Latino stopped sparring, two other people entered the circle. They began lunging at each other, mixing in cartwheels and punches and spinning kicks. If one person went down, he knew how to kick upward with his hands flat on the floor. The motion was continuous, and everyone’s T-shirt was damp with sweat.

They passed around the circle once, Hollis cutting in to attack or defend. The drummer beat faster and each person fought a second time and then a final series of matches that emphasized leg sweeps and lightning-fast side kicks. Hollis nodded to the drummer and the fighting was over.

Exhausted, the students sat on the floor. They stretched their legs and took deep breaths. Hollis didn’t look tired at all. He paced back and forth in front of them, speaking in the cadence of a Jonesie preacher.

“There are three kinds of human responses: the deliberate, the instinctive, and the automatic. Deliberate is when you think about your actions. Instinctive is when you just react. Automatic is when you do something from habit because you’ve done it before.”

Hollis paused and stared at the students sitting in front of him. He seemed to be evaluating their strengths and weaknesses. “In New Babylon, many of the people you know think they’re being deliberate when they’re just on automatic. Like a bunch of robots, they drive their car down the freeway, go to work, get a paycheck in exchange for sweat and pain and humiliation, then drive back home to listen to fake laughter coming from the television set. They’re already dead. Or dying. But they don’t know it.

“Then there’s another group of people-the party boys and girls. Smoke some weed. Drink some malt liquor. Try to hook up for a little quick sex. They think they’re connecting with their instincts, their natural power, but you know what? They’re on automatic, too.

“The warrior is different. The warrior uses the power of the brain to be deliberate and the power of the heart to be instinctive. Warriors are never automatic except when they’re brushing their teeth.”

Hollis paused and spread his hands. “Try to think. Feel. Be real.” He clapped his hands together. “That’s all for today.”

The students bowed to their teacher, grabbed gym bags, slipped rubber flip-flop sandals on their bare feet, and left the school. Hollis wiped some sweat off the floor with a towel and turned to smile at Vicki.

“Now this is a real surprise,” he said. “You’re Victory From Sin Fraser-Josetta Fraser’s daughter.”

“I was a little girl when you left the church.”

“I remember. Wednesday night prayer service. Friday night youth group. Sunday night potluck social. I always liked the singing. There’s good music in the church. But it was a little too much praying for me.”

“Obviously you weren’t a believer.”

“I believe in a lot of things. Isaac T. Jones was a great prophet, but he’s not the final one.” Hollis walked over to the doorway. “So why are you here and who’s your friend? Beginner classes are Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday night.”

“We’re not here to learn how to fight. This is my friend, Maya.”

“And what are you?” he asked Maya. “A white convert?”

“That’s a foolish comment,” Vicki said. “The Prophet accepted all races.”

“I’m just trying to get the facts, Little Miss Victory From Sin. If you’re not here for lessons, then you’re here to invite me to some church function. I guess Reverend Morganfield thought he’d get a better reaction sending two pretty women to talk to me. That might be true, but it still doesn’t work.”

“This has nothing to do with the church,” Maya said. “I want to hire you as a fighter. I’m assuming that you have weapons or access to them.”

“And who the hell are you?”

Vicki glanced at Maya, asking for permission. The Harlequin moved her eyes slightly. Tell him.

“This is Maya. She’s a Harlequin who’s come to Los Angeles to search for two unborn Travelers.”

Hollis looked surprised, and then laughed loudly. “Right! And I’m the Goddamn King of the World. Don’t give me this garbage, Vicki. There aren’t any Travelers or Harlequins left. They’ve all been hunted down and killed.”

“I hope everyone thinks that,” Maya said calmly. “It’s easier for us if no one believes we exist.”

Hollis stared at Maya, raising his eyebrows as if questioning her right to be in the room. Then he spread his legs into a fighting stance and snapped off a punch at half speed. Vicki screamed, but Hollis continued the attack with a head punch and crossing kick. As Maya stumbled backward, the sword carrying case fell off her shoulder and rolled a few inches across the tile floor.

Hollis went into a cartwheel that ended in a crossing kick and Maya managed to block it. He moved faster, attacking with full power and speed. Using kicks and punches, he pushed Maya toward the wall. She knocked his fists away with her hands and forearms, shifted her weight onto the right foot, and aimed a front kick at Hollis’s groin. Hollis fell backward, rolled across the floor, and jumped up with another combination.

They were fighting hard now, trying to hurt each other. Vicki shouted for them to stop, but neither person seemed to hear her. Now that Maya had recovered from her initial surprise, her face was calm, her eyes intense and focused. She moved in close, throwing quick punches and kicks that tried to achieve maximum damage.

Hollis danced away from her. Even in this situation, he had to show everyone that he was a graceful and inventive fighter. With roundhouse punches and spinning back kicks, he began to push Maya across the room. The Harlequin stopped when the sword case touched her shoe.

She faked a punch at Hollis’s head, reached down, and grabbed the case. And then the sword was out, the hilt clicking into place, as she lunged toward her attacker. Hollis lost his balance, fell backward, and Maya stopped moving. The point of the sword blade was two inches away from Hollis Wilson’s neck.

“Don’t!” Vicki shouted, and the spell was broken. The violence and anger vanished from the room. Maya lowered her sword as Hollis got to his feet.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to see one of those Harlequin swords.”

“The next time we fight like this, you’ll be dead.”

“But we’re not going to fight. We’re on the same side.” Hollis turned his head and winked at Vicki. “So how much are you pretty women going to pay me?”

Hollis drove the blue delivery van and Vicki sat in the passenger seat. Maya crouched in back, away from the window. As they cut through Beverly Hills, she saw scattered images of the city. Some of the homes were built in the Spanish style with red tile roofs and courtyards. Others looked like modern versions of Tuscan villas. Several of the houses were simply big, lacking any identifiable style; they had elaborate porticos over the front door and fake Romeo-and-Juliet balconies. It was strange to see so many buildings that were both grandiose and bland.

Hollis crossed Sunset Boulevard and began to drive up Coldwater Canyon. “Okay,” he said. “We’re getting close.”

“They may be watching the place. Slow down and park before we get there.”

Hollis pulled over a few minutes later and Maya came forward to peer through the windshield. They were parked on a hillside residential street where the homes were built close to the curb. A Department of Water and Power truck had stopped a few feet away from Maggie Resnick’s house. A man in an orange jumpsuit was climbing a power pole while two other workers watched him from below.

“Seems okay,” Hollis said.

Vicki shook her head. “They’re looking for the Corrigan brothers. A truck just like that has been outside my house for the last two days.”