It dawned on him, as he lay dazed, that the Oddity hadn't gone on that WHO tour.

He didn't have to think about it long. Jay felt hands grab him, fingers like steel cable digging into his flesh. He was jerked upward, and then he was flying. Glass shattered all around him, and something hard and cold came up to smash into him. He thought maybe it was the floor.

Brennan suddenly realized that he was about to shoot at the wrong target. He swiveled, grabbed the top of the crumbling brick wall that surrounded the cemetery, and pulled himself up.

Fadeout was leaning against the hood of the car parked in front of the cemetery gate, smoking a cigarette. Brennan scowled, grabbed an arrow, and raised his bow and fired. Fadeout did a double take as the arrow punched through the hood of his car, penetrating deep into the engine. "Jesus Christ!" He stared at the shaft for a moment, turned, and looked into the night. "Yeoman?"

"Call off Dragon," Brennan answered, "or the next one goes into your right eye."

Fadeout hesitated.

"I mean itl" Brennan shouted, calculating his chances of releasing the shaft he had nocked to his bowstring, finding an explosive arrow in his quiver, stringing it, and hitting the dragon before the beast pulped him.

His fingers twitched, ready to release the arrow he had aimed at Fadeout; then the Shadow Fist captain called out, "Okay, it's okay. I just wanted him to scout the cemetery. Dragon, go back to your bodyl Nowl"

Brennan stared at the creature. It looked back impassively and then started to twist and shrivel, collapsing upon itself until it was only a small bit of intricately folded paper that blew away on the night wind. A moment passed, then Lazy Dragon got out of the back of the car and stood by Fadeout. Brennan relaxed the tension on his bowstring. "Come in through the gate," he called, "if you're done playing games and want to talk."

Fadeout and Dragon exchanged glances. Fadeout was older, taller, a fit-looking man in an expensive-looking suit. Dragon was a young Asian, smaller, frailer looking, but he had the more dangerous ace power of the two. Fadeout, though, was the boss, and Dragon would take his cue from him.

"You can't blame me for being cautious," Fadeout said, leading the way into the cemetery through the sagging wroughtiron gate. "You killed a lot of Fists at Tachyon's clinic."

Brennan jumped down lightly from the top of the wall. "Do you really care about that?" he asked.

"No," Fadeout admitted. He looked around, suppressing a shiver. "But I was, well, a little concerned about meeting in this godforsaken place. It gives me the creeps."

"I like it. Dark. Quiet. Plenty of cover." Brennan was suddenly tired of all the small talk. "Let's talk about Chrysalis." Fadeout glanced at Lazy Dragon, who was watching impassively. "I know that you're looking for Chrysalis's murderer. You caused quite a scene at Squisher's Basement. I'm afraid that you totally ruined Bludgeon's reputation."

"It wasn't hard. He wasn't the same old Bludgeon." Fadeout nodded. "He's dying of AIDS. That's not a fate I'd wish on anyone, but I can't say that I'm too sorry. The man was a disgusting brute. Now he's disgusting and pathetic."

"I didn't call this meeting to discuss Bludgeon's health problems."

"Right. I want to help."

"Help?"

"Yes. Help find Chrysalis's killer."

"I see." Brennan smoothed his mustache thoughtfully. "And in return?"

Fadeout shrugged. "I want nothing more than you want. I want Kien removed."

Brennan smiled slowly.

"I don't know what you have against him," Fadeout continued. "But I know that you want him bad. As for me, well, let's say that I could envision the Shadow Fists doing quite nicely with a new leader."

Brennan glanced at Lazy Dragon. "And a new chief lieutenant?"

"I'm very generous," Fadeout said, "to those who help me. I've been generous to Lazy Dragon. I was generous to you in the past and can be again."

"The only thing I need," Brennan said, "is information."

"Ask away."

"Did Wyrm kill Chrysalis?"

"Well, you cut right to the heart of the matter, don't you?" Fadeout said, shaking his head.

"That's right."

"Well," Fadeout said carefully, "we all know that Wyrm has a violent temper, and he's totally devoted to Kien. Chrysalis, of course, knew that Kien is head of the Fists, but she'd kept quiet about it. If, however, she found out something that threatened Kien, Wyrm might have had the initiative to do something on his own."

"Like finding out about Kien's new designer drug?"

"Rapture?" Fadeout asked. "Yes, you've learned about our new head candy, haven't you?"

"Something about it."

"Perhaps Chrysalis learned something about it, too."

"And Wyrm killed her."

Fadeout shrugged again. "I make no accusations. It is a thought, however. I can make a few discrete inquiries on the subject."

Brennan nodded. "All right. I'll be in touch."

"One thing," Fadeout said as Brennan turned away, "you might keep your eyes open for. Chrysalis's secret files."

"Secret files?"

"Her information cache. The talk is that she kept meticulous records concerning everything she'd ever discovered on everybody in the city, and those records didn't turn up when the police searched the Palace. And you can bet that the police had orders to search very thoroughly."

"What do you want with these files?"

Fadeout smiled. "Someone has to take Chrysalis's place." Brennan shook his head. "You're an ambitious man. First you want to replace Kien. Now you want to replace Chrysalis." Fadeout shrugged. "A man has to stay busy."

"All right," Brennan said. "I'll keep my eyes open for them. I may want to have a look at them myself."

"Fine," Fadeout said with a smile. "Have fun catching Chrysalis's killer. Then come after Kien. I'll be there to help you."

"We'll see." Brennan turned, stopped, turned back to Fadeout and Lazy Dragon. "One last thing. Ever hear of an ace named Doug Morkle?"

Fadeout and Dragon exchanged glances. "No. Should I have?"

"Beats me," Brennan admitted. "He's on my list of suspects, but no one has ever heard of the bastard."

"Morkle. Strange name. I'll ask around."

Brennan nodded, turned again, and faded into the night, leaving Fadeout and Dragon to deal with a car whose radiator fluid was now an oily green puddle on the street.

Jay opened his eyes and closed them again quickly. The light made his headache unbearable. The pounding behind his eyelids was like thunder, the left side of his face was a single dull mass of pain, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Somebody had yanked his hands behind his back and tied them together.

When he tried to get up, something ground together inside his chest, and the pain was excruciating. A feeble groan escaped his lips. He rolled back and tried to lie very still. Maybe he should just go back to sleep.

"I heard him," a deep voice muttered, somewhere far away. "He moaned. He's coming to."

"Bring him here, John," someone else said. The second voice was vaguely familiar.

Massive hands lifted him as easily as a grown man might lift a child, carried him across the room, and propped him up in a chair. The hands were not gentle. Jay had to stifle a scream.

"Open your eyes, Mr. Ackroyd," the second voice said. Reluctantly, Jay tried. His left eye was swollen almost shut.

The grim reaper sat staring at him across an antique desk.

"Dutton," Jay managed, through cracked, bloody lips. The reaper nodded.

A shadow fell across Jay. He forced himself to turn his head. It wasn't until you got really close to the Oddity that' you realized how big the fucker was. He could hear labored breathing from behind the fencing mask and feel the weight of eyes staring down implacably through the steel mesh. "You said you didn't know the Oddity," Jay said to Dutton.