After a time, he entered a place where the trees seemed to grow upside down, their gnarled roots twisting in dense wooden knots above the water. Above him, the canopy of interlaced branches blocked most of the sun. Shadows increasingly dappled his back as he slid along.

Sounds came to him, amplified by the water. He recognized the patterns-food, though food that sometimes could injure him if he were incautious. He homed in on the vibrations.

Around the curve of a deeper channel, beyond an almostimpenetrable copse of cypress, he saw the pirogue. The two men in it did not see him, busy as they were, poking long poles into the plaited jumble of wood at water-level.

More sounds came. The man wearing a cap said, "She got' be in dere someplace, Jake."

The other man shouted so loud, the alligator had to contract its hearing openings. "Bitch, you come outta dere! This your grand-uncle speakin', Delia."

"You tell her, Snake Jake," said the first man.

"I tell you, girl-I don' wan' hurt you." He chuckled. "Leastways, nothin' you won' like."

The alligator swept remorselessly toward the pirogue. There was no debate, nothing but intent. He did what he did because of what he was and who they were.

He slid deeper and came up beneath the boat, lifting the prow high into the bayou shadows. The two men yelled and plunged into the water. The alligator did not care who was first. He would have them both.

His jaws stretched wide, teeth ready to rend-and he was back in the dark tunnel below the city. The alligator mindlessly placed one foot in front of the other, continuing his imponderable, slow-motion odyssey. The dream stayed as vivid as reality in his mind. So much as he could consider the issue, he didn't know whether the dream was something that had happened once, or was something that would happen.

Either way was fine. It didn't matter.

Using the set of keys Jack had given her years before, Bagabond opened yet another gray metal door, revealing a set of steps descending into darkness. She reached down to pick up the soft bundle she had laid at her feet.

"How much farther?" Those were the only words Rosemary had spoken since they had entered the subway system at Chambers Street.

"Down these stairs and a few hundred yards along a tunnel-I think." Bagabond closed and locked the door behind them. The metal clinked dully. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," said Bagabond. "It must be pretty heavy to keep you from talking."

Rosemary took an audible breath. "Ever since my father.. died, and C.C.- I hate subways, tunnels, all of this. It's fifteen years ago, but that night is still a blur and I… don't want… to remember." The words ran down like clockwork exhausting a mainspring.

"But you want the books," Bagabond said practically, grasping Rosemary by the shoulder and pulling her around to face her. In the dim yellow light, the attorney's eyes were black shadows. Bagabond probed Rosemary for weakness.

The attorney took another deep breath. "I'm here. I'm going on. But you can't stop me from thinking what this place did to C. C." Rosemary shrugged away from Bagabond. "Don't worry about it, all right?"

"I don't think I'm the one who's worried."

Rosemary's foot was on the first step when the two women heard the muffled chuffing sounds of the alligator, followed by a growl. Rosemary's lips paled as she set her mouth tightly. Bagabond nodded to herself with satisfaction. "That's Jack."

Rosemary lagged Bagabond perceptibly as they approached the alligator. At their approach, the reptile stopped and swung his heavy head toward them, eyes glittering in the cold light of the tunnel. He roared a challenge that made both women wince as the sound crashed and reverberated against the stone walls.

"Stay here. I'll call you when it's finished." Bagabond sloshed toward Sewer Jack, gently moving inside his head now. Heedless of her clothing, she knelt in the tunnel muck and stroked the alligator's lower jaw as she mentally reached further inside for the key to Jack Robicheaux. Finding the spark of humanity deep within the reptile brain, she cradled it, fanning it, drawing it out, calming both the proto-human synapses and the distinctly reptile brain. As the alligator mind receded, Bagabond withdrew and watched as the long armored tail grew smaller and the snout diminished. The short legs of the animal elongated into the arms and legs of a than.

The naked man now lying on the tunnel floor gasped and cried out in pain as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. His face and hands grew gray-green, again lapped with scales, as the process began to reverse itself.

"Jack! It's Bagabond. Control it!" She spoke sharply, taking the man's hand tightly between her own. She moved with him as Jack rolled onto his back, panting hoarsely. Bagabond tried to penetrate back into his head, but now was blocked by the human intelligence there. Jack opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. He convulsed once, but took a deep breath and! ay back. Although livid, the texture of his skin was normal again. His breathing slowed to a normal rate.

Running a hand across his face, Jack grimaced. "I know I always ask this, but it's important-where am I?" He glanced down at Bagabond's hand and released it, looking away self-consciously.

"Try Stuyvesant Square," said Bagabond. "Maybe a hundred feet below it. It's about six at night." She reached across him in one unconscious motion and pushed the damp black hair back off his face. "Here are some clothes. I got them out of vour cache at Union Square." Bagabond handed him the bundle she had been carrying. "Rosemary's here, a little ways up the tunnel."

"I assume there's a reason you're both here." Jack stiffly got up, one hand to his belly, the other holding his forehead. "I feel like shit." He painfully pulled on the chinos and work shirt.

"It's something you ate," Bagabond said laconically. "That pain in your gut-its no tin can. It's books. Very important books."

"So I ate a librarian? Wonderful." Jack ran his fingers through his matted hair and looked up at the ceiling of the passage. "My card's expired anyway."

Bagabond shook her head. "From what I saw, you ate a thief. The thief just happened to be carrying notebooks that every criminal in the city would kill any twenty grandmothers for. "

"And I want those notebooks so I can find out why." Rosemary walked up to them, her usual poise regained. "There's a meeting of the Gambione Family in a couple hours. If I have those books, I think I can stop a bloodbath."

"So ask me if I care," said Jack. He grimaced. "My niece has been wandering around New York City for almost twelve hours. By now she could be dog food. That's my problem. I'm going to find her. Then we'll discuss your precious books." Jack winced, doubling over, as he started to walk back toward the steps.

"Robicheaux, I can make your life miserable!" Rosemary started to follow him.

"Shut up, Rosemary," Bagabond said. "Jack, there's one more thing you should know." Her voice was flat and it stopped him. "It's not just the Mafia looking for these things. They're the sweethearts. The others are using jokers, maybe aces too.. If you hit the street knowing what's inside you, you're a dead man before you can whistle up a cab. Some telepath'll pick it up and they'll gut you like a pig. Then what about Cordelia?" She let several moments go by. " I can't protect you out there, but I can look for Cordelia while you're out of sight. And mind."

"So how long?" Jack tried to straighten, but gasped again in pain.

"Rosemary?" Bagabond took Jack's arm and supported him.

"Two hours, outside. That will get the books to the meeting. That's all I want." Rosemary stared at Sewer Jack and waited.

He met her eyes. "You got two hours, lady. That's all. And if Bagabond can't find Cordelia, I want your people on it. Every cop in the borough. Deal'?" Jack swayed against Bagabond, putting one hand out to the wall.