Jerry shook his head, mad at himself for making a mistake. "Prime."

Valerie hugged herself. "He did that thing to make me one of the gang. I've only been in it for a couple of weeks. Zelda and Blaise are the ones you need to talk to."

"You must know something. Plans he might have. Anything." Jerry rubbed his palms together.

Valerie shook her head, then tilted it. "I don't know if this is what you mean, but he likes blond boys. Not to be in the gang, but for other things. At least, that's what Molly says."

"Does the name David Butler sound familiar?" Jerry asked. "I think so. I don't know" Valerie got up and started pacing. "Please let me go."

Jerry pushed a button, a signal to Jay to come downstairs. "So you can go back to them."

"I can't do that now. You know that." She went back to worrying her nails. "Bloat would know I told." She clutched her hands over her chest. "You don't know what they'd do." Ackroyd opened the door and stepped into the room. Jerry cut off the audio to the mirrored cage. "Get what you needed?" Jay asked.

"Nah. But it was worth a shot." Jerry pointed to Valerie. "I guess you can send her back to the park now."

Jay shook his head. "I think you'd be better off telling me everything, but you are the one who signs the checks." He made his hand into the familiar gunshape.

"Trust me," Jerry said.

Valerie disappeared. There was a muffled pop. "Mrs. Ackroyd didn't raise any boys that stupid."

"The check is in the mail," Jerry said, smiling.

"You going to be at the memorial service tomorrow?" Jerry stopped smiling. He'd been trying not to think about it. "Yeah," he said. "Want a lift there? I could use the company." Jay nodded.

People were taking turns speaking, remembering the man who had been their friend. It had rained off and on all morning but was dry enough inside the tomb.

Jerry looked up at the replica of the JB-I. Jerry hadn't ever been much interested in Jetboy, even after he drew the wild card, and had never felt much about the young flier's death. It was impossible to think about a world without Tachyon, though. Jerry was still trying to get his mind around the idea. If it weren't for the Takisian, Jerry would still be a giant ape. He hadn't been able to help Tachyon any more than he'd been able to save Kenneth. Latham was responsible for the deaths. He had to be made to pay.

The clothes of those attending were a stark contrast to the gray weather. Almost everyone had dressed in outrageously colorful outfits because "Tach would have wanted it that way." Jerry was wearing a lime-green suit with a paisley-print shirt and rainbow scarf. Ackroyd had dressed in an everyday suit. "A man in my line of work can't afford to look stupid, even for a minute," he'd said.

Father Squid stepped forward to speak. "I cannot claim to have understood all that he did, but his was a great heart, full of compassion and understanding."

Jerry glanced over and saw Cody. He eased his way through the crowd toward her. Her bad eye was to him, but she turned just as he reached her side. "Mr. Strauss," she said. "I haven't seen you recently. I suppose I should have expected to today, though."

Jerry fished a twenty-thousand-dollar check from his pocket and slipped it to her. "I know. It's hard to go near the clinic, now that he's gone."

Cody took the check and tucked it away. "Thanks. Hard as Finn and I have been working to raise funds, we don't seem to be getting anywhere."

"Bad times," Jerry said.

Cody nodded. There was a strain in her face he'd never seen before, something that didn't have anything to do with being a doctor.

"How could Tach get jumped?"

Cody shook her head and looked down. "They jumped me first. Used me as a Judas goat. Tach never could think straight when there was a woman involved."

Jerry could understand that well enough. "I guess there's no chance that somehow he's still alive?" He had an almost blind faith in Tachyon's ability to work miracles.

"He's gone," Cody said, her voice flat, weary. "But how can you be sure?"

"Blaise used to visit me once a week. He wanted me to know what he was doing to his grandfather. He told me everything. He kept moving Tachyon from body to body. All jokers, each more twisted than the last. He brought me obscene pictures. Is this what you want to fuck? he'd ask me. Is this what turns you on? But finally he got bored with the game. That was when he killed Tachyon." She looked away. "He brought me pictures of that, too."

"Maybe he was lying," Jerry said. "Trying to hurt you."

"The nrisoners were all kept in the warehouse," Cody said. "If he was still alive, he would have been freed in the raid, along with the rest of us. He's dead, Mr. Strauss. Denying it only prolongs the pain."

Jerry figured she was right. He put his hand on her shoulder, then walked back over to Ackroyd.

"Trying to pick up Cody at Tach's memorial service is a gesture he'd probably understand," Jay said, smiling. Jerry's shoulders slumped. "I wasn't trying to pick her up."

"I know, I know," Jay said. "What is it about tombs that makes people lose their sense of humor? Let's get out of here before someone asks us to make a speech."

Jerry sighed. "How about dinner?" He didn't feel like being alone.

"Now you're talking," Jay said. "Being morose gives me an appetite."

The pair made their way to the edge of the crowd and out onto the rain-slicked concrete. A rainbow arced over Staten Island. Jerry wondered if there would be a pot of gold on his doorstep when he got home. It was the last thing he needed.

Jerry sat alone in the private room of the Haiphong Lily. Half the Gambione family had died in this room, and he wasn't happy about the apparent thinness of the walls, but he could live with it. His look was burly, middle-aged, and Italian. The person he was meeting thought he was a Mafia kingpin from Vegas. He'd been laying the background for the disguise for several weeks.

The door slid open, and the Lily's owner ushered in a young man in a pressed dark gray suit. The man looked more Greek than Italian. His eyes and mouth were impassive and deadly. Jerry studied his face and build. Never could tell when it might come in handy.

The door closed. "Sit down," Jerry said.

"Thank you." The man unbuttoned his coat and quietly took his seat. Jerry passed him the menu. "No, thanks. I'm not here to eat."

"Whatever." Jerry ran a finger cautiously along his lower lip. "You come highly recommended."

The man shrugged. "There aren't many of us left. To still be around, you have to be the best."

Jerry nodded and pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket, then slid it across the table. Inside was everything he'd managed to find out about Latham's habits and associates in the past months and twenty thousand dollars in cash. He'd removed his fingerprints when handling the paper and didn't have any now either. "How soon can you start?"

The man opened the envelope and slowly went through the contents. "Soon as I'm out the door."

"He's heavily guarded most of the time," Jerry said. "Watch out for the kids especially."

"I'll want another twenty when I'm done." The killer carefully tucked the money back into the envelope.

Jerry nodded.

The man stood and took a step toward the door, then turned and smiled. "Want any souvenirs? I do that for free."

"No," Jerry said. "I'll save the news clippings."

The man nodded and left.

Jerry sat in the Tomlin International Airport, fidgeting in one of the plastic chairs. A newspaper was folded across his lap. Mafia Killer Found in East River was a front-page headline. Next to the story was a picture of Alex "Buttons" Parylos. Jerry should have known Latham would be too tough for one man, even a professional.

"Delta Flight twenty-three now arriving from Chicago at gate nine," came a soft voice over the public address.