Ryan nodded. It made a lot of sense. Killing a dragon took more than just motive. It took exceptional talent and resources, magical as well as mundane. It would take cunning and intricate planning. Ryan had been too busy searching for Burnout to do any investigating himself so he had no idea how it had been pulled off.

The fact was, however, that very few people could have executed the assassination. After weeding out all those without the means, the Secret Service would be left with only a select few to investigate.

Matthews' smile was grim. "There are those who say you should head the list."

Ryan looked Matthews in the eye, saw the disturbing questions there, and returned the grim smile. "That's a pretty dubious honor; one I'd just as soon do without."

Matthews stepped close, close enough that Ryan could smell the man's sweat and aftershave. "Listen, old friend, I know you didn't do it. But you're one of maybe three individuals on this planet with the know-how, the skill, and the cojones to pull off something this massive. Not to mention that you were close to the dragon, and that gives you access. The clincher is that the Service's intelligence division has about eighty percent surety that the president received a call from you just before he drastically altered his scheduled itinerary-"

"Yes, I made that call. But I was out of the country at that time."

"Doing what?"

"Routine business."

Ryan could feel the sudden flash of anger from Matthews. "Don't lie to me, friend. You don't do routine."

"All right, then let's just say that my business had nothing to do with-"

Ryan's wristphone beeped. He gave Matthews a questioning look.

Matthews nodded.

Ryan hit the connect button, and the voice of Carla Brooks floated into the still, rotted air of the alley. "I just got off the line with Quentin Strapp, the special investigator for the Scott Commission. Whatever you do, don't slot around with that tail. It's Secret Service, and Strapp says it's routine."

Matthews threw back his head and laughed.

Ryan couldn't help but grin. "Uh, Black Angel? I already figured that out. But thanks for the scan."

"Frag me, Quicksilver, you haven't gone and done anything… regrettable, have you?"

Ryan looked at Phelps, who hadn't moved a muscle. The assault rifle was still centered on his chest. "Not anything irreparable. Thanks for your concern."

Carla's voice took on the dry tone of a doctor giving a terminal patient the bad news. "Don't thank me yet. When I talked to Strapp, he said for me to detain you until he arrived. He's on his way to the mansion right now."

"Detain?"

"Those were his words, not mine, Quicksilver."

"I don't like those kind of words, Black Angel."

"Me neither. Something's going down, and it looks like they want to take you along for the ride."

The afternoon sun shone down on the cliff face, warming the rock with its heat as Lethe listened to the unmistakable rhythm of helicopter blades. Getting louder.

Lethe fought down the urge to flee from the approaching helicopters. Instead he concentrated on making himself and Burnout invisible to both physical and astral surveillance. The cyberzombie pressed his huge and very noticeable body tight into a narrow rock crevice and looked out at the three Aztechnology Aguilar-EX helicopters that swooped past. Flying confident in attack formation. Sure of their own fire power.

"They are certain to see me," Burnout said. "I will try to take them down." He anchored himself into the crevasse with his heel spikes and brought automatic weapons to bear on the incoming helos.

"Wait!" said Lethe. "I have hidden us."

Burnout hesitated, and the three helos flew past and out of sight, never hesitating. Burnout waited twenty minutes before climbing out of the crack in the cliff face and continuing the ascent. "How did you keep them from seeing us?" he asked.

"I have the ability to mask myself to all but the most perceptive," Lethe said. "I simply extended that ability to include both of us."

"I am further in your debt." And that was the last Burnout would say despite all efforts by Lethe to continue the conversation.

They reached the top of the cliff and passed quickly down the gentle slope on the other side, covered with pines. "Just in time," Burnout said as he loped down through the forest.

"What do you mean?"

Burnout chuckled. "I've been running on reserve energy since the fight with that blood spirit. My cybernetic parts need electricity to function. That's most of me these days. Another day without charge, and this would have been a lot of work for nothing. We'd have froze up and died where we fell."

"You can get 'charge' here?" Lethe could see nothing around them but tall pines.

Burnout laughed. "Power, yes. Listen."

Lethe concentrated on Burnout's hearing, and suddenly through the soft noises of the wild, he could faintly hear the sound of someone blaring a horn of some kind. "Civilization."

"Ain't it sweet? But it gets better. According to my GPS, the town right in front of us is a tiny little fly speck called Kooskia. It sits right on the junction of Highways Thirteen and Twelve. It also happens to be a fuel depot for the automated truck trains that cruise the freeway. More charge than I would know what to do with. We can just go in and take as much as we need."

Lethe thought about that. "The depot will be manned, will it not? I doubt that the attendants will just give you power without some form of reimbursement."

Burnout laughed. "I'd like to see them stop me. One look at this face, and they'll probably go screaming into the night. The ones that don't will die."

Lethe didn't like the idea of hurting innocents, and was about to make his viewpoint very clear, when something else occurred to him. "Burnout, something troubles me. In my short association with the man known as Ryan, I learned that he is quite meticulous, smart, and extremely methodical. Isn't this just the sort of clue he'll be looking for?"

Burnout shrugged. "It's a risk I'm going to have to take. We've been lucky he hasn't found us yet, and I'll try to get in and out without anyone noticing, but I must have power to move. I have to get to the Kodiak soon. Besides, even if he does pick up the scent here, we'll lose him soon enough when we hit the open road."

A few minutes later, under the darkness of oppressive cloud cover, Burnout approached the small town. They circumnavigated the small cluster of houses and roads, moving around to the southern end of the village where the refueling depot rested in the white glare of lithium lights.

Burnout scanned the lay of things, pointing them out to Lethe. "Just there, on the far side of that big patch of tarmac," he said, pointing to a small square building with a red neon sign above the doorway. The sign read DEPOT in fanciful curlicues. "Not a very original name for a depot, but it must cut down on any potential confusion," Burnout said with a dry chuckle.

Lethe didn't understand why Burnout should find that humorous. It seemed perfectly logical that a depot should be called a depot. However, he decided not to make any further comment.

"Look there. We got one guard by the building's entrance, simple service pistol that probably has half a kilo of rust in the barrel. No track-mounted drones and only minimal video surveillance. Only three attendants. All of them look very bored. Bored is good."

Burnout moved swiftly, circling around the huge pools of cold blue light. Within minutes, they were at the rear of the building. Moving along the wall in silence. He peeked around the end of the structure, looking out onto the broad expanse of tarmac.

One of the massive truck trains had pulled in for refueling. The unmanned tractor in the lead was a sleek black Nordkapp-Conestoga Bergen and looked more like it belonged on tracks than wheels. The tractor was controlled by a dogbrain neural network, and behind it were seven self-propelled trailers, each the size of a boxcar. The attendants were busy hooking up fuel lines to the monstrosity.