“Right,” I said.

“And Loquasto provided you with this valuable intelligence because…?”

I hated to lie to McGuire. He’s a good boss, and he’s supported Karl and me at times when others were calling for our heads. But there was a limit to what he’d put up with, and I was pretty sure that one of his detectives engaging in conspiracy to commit murder was outside that limit.

“It’s in his best interest,” I said. “He believes, just like we do, that Wilson is behind the Delatassos’ attempt to take over the Calabrese territory. If Wilson’s out of the picture, Loquasto figures that Ronnie Delatasso will take his ball and go home. Eventually.”

“It makes sense, boss, when you think about it,” Karl said.

McGuire looked at Karl, then back at me. “So why don’t the Calabreses just go after Wilson themselves?”

“It would take a pitched battle for them to overcome all the firepower that Wilson’s got protecting him,” I said. “Loquasto didn’t come right out and admit it, but I’m pretty sure Calabrese hasn’t got the troops to do the job. He’s been hurt pretty bad in the war with the Delatassos.”

“So he wants us to do his dirty work for him.” Judging by his face, McGuire’s ulcer had taken a turn for the worse.

“It’s a win-win, haina?” Karl said. “We want Wilson bad as Calabrese does – maybe more. And if we can take him out of play before the election–”

“Which is eight days away,” McGuire said.

“Which is eight fuckin’ days away,” Karl said, nodding, “it could make all the difference in the world.”

“Or none at all,” McGuire said sourly.

“We won’t know for sure unless we can pull it off,” I said. “But one thing’s for sure, boss – if we don’t do something, and quick, Wilson’s gonna own this town, starting nine days from now. I don’t wanna see that – do you?”

“You know I don’t.” McGuire ran a hand slowly through his thinning hair. “But there’s a problem – make that two problems.”

Karl and I looked at each other, but didn’t say anything.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you,” McGuire said. “I think Wilson’s hiding in that big house on Lake Scranton. Shit, who else around here could afford that kind of security – and who else would need it?”

“Then what’s–” Karl began, but McGuire waved him silent.

“But asking the Chief to send twenty, thirty cops out there, including SWAT, based solely on the unsubstantiated word of a known criminal… I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“It’s still worth a try, dammit,” I said. “If he says no, we’re no worse off than we are now.”

McGuire’s expression had turned bitter. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But, like I said, there’s another problem.”

McGuire moved around a couple of objects on his desk that didn’t need moving, and that’s when I felt icy fingers touch my spine. The boss doesn’t usually hesitate to say what’s on his mind – about anything.

“I’ve been hearing things, the last couple of weeks,” he said. “Nothing definitive – it’s what you’d have to call circumstantial evidence, but it still bothers me. Some people that the Chief’s been seen having lunch with, a few things he’s said at meetings, the fact that he’s talking about retiring next year – to Bermuda.”

“Holy fucking shit,” said. “You think the Chief of Police is in Wilson’s pocket.”

“Can’t prove a damn thing,” McGuire said. “But, yeah, I do. So you see the problem. I ask the Chief to authorize a big raid out on Lake Scranton, and he’s gonna turn me down flat – which he might well have done anyway. But more than that…” He let his voice trail off.

“He’ll tell Wilson we know where he is,” I said.

“Fucking Wilson’d turn that place out there into Fort Knox,” Karl said. “You’d need an armored division to take it.”

“Either that, or he’ll just disappear again,” I said. “And if he does, what do you figure the chances are we’d find the bastard again, before election day?”

McGuire snorted. “Snowball in Hell – if the odds are even that good.”

“Which means we’re fucked,” Karl said.

“No,” I told him. “It means we’re royally fucked.”

We got sent out on a call that turned out to be a false alarm. A woman living on Kaiser Avenue reported a werewolf prowling around her house. Karl and I didn’t turn up any werewolves, but we did find a guy from the neighborhood – he could’ve used a haircut and a beard trim, but he was still human – who liked to peek through windows. We sent the jerk home with a warning that Karl reinforced with a little bit of vampire Influence.

It was about time for our break then, so we headed for Jerry’s Diner, which was nearby. The mood I was in, I almost hoped somebody would try to stick the place up while we were there.

I was stirring sugar into my coffee when a thought occurred to me. “Karl, that Influence you laid on the peeping tom a little while ago….”

He put down his mug of Type O and looked at me. “Yeah?”

“Could you use it on Wilson’s guards? Maybe get them all to drop their guns and take a nice nap?”

“All of them?” He shook his head slowly. “No way, Stan. If there’s a technique for controlling a bunch of guys all at once, I never heard of it. I’d have to do them one at a time, and I don’t think it would take long before the others tumbled to what I was up to. They’d open up on me – and since those fuckers work for Wilson, I wouldn’t be surprised if they are packing silver bullets.”

“Shit,” I said. “Well, it was worth a try. I was hoping you could put them under your spell long enough for us to–”

“Wait – what did you say?” Karl was looking at me with an odd expression on his face.

“Just this crazy idea that you’d be able to–”

“I know what you meant,” he said, and stood up abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

I watched as he went to the rack near the front door where Jerry keeps all the free print material that’s available for customers to take. I thought I remembered several books of realty listings, as well as the Pennysaver Press, a local rag that’s full of cheap classified ads from people with stuff to sell. The Chamber of Commerce puts some of its publications there, too.

But when Karl returned to our table, he was carrying a copy of The Weekender, which bills itself as “The Wyoming Valley’s #1 Arts and Entertainment Free Weekly.” It’s also the only such paper in the area, so the distinction of being number one doesn’t mean too much.

Karl sat down again and began rapidly flipping the pages. He didn’t bother to explain what the hell he was doing.

“If you’re looking for the ‘gentlemen’s club’ ads, I believe they’re towards the back,” I told him.

“Figured you’d know that,” he said, without looking up. “But I’m pretty sure they also keep track of what bands’re playing at the local bars… Yeah, here we go.”

He began scanning the page he’d stopped at. Then his eyes stopped moving. “Good – we’re in luck. They’re still in the area. Got a gig in Wilkes-Barre, starting tomorrow night.”

“You’re gonna let me in on this great discovery sooner or later, right?”

“Sooner,” he said, closing the paper and dropping it on the table in front of me. “Our big problem is all these heavily armed dudes guarding Wilson. We can’t fight ’em, so we’ve gotta find the way to get the fuckers out of there.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“OK, how’s this – what would you say if I told you I know where we can find us a Siren?”

The Banshees were beginning a two-night engagement at the Palace, a club in South Wilkes-Barre that looked like no palace I’d ever heard of. We’d called ahead, and the manager had told us that the band was expected to finish its last set around 2am.

I hadn’t been in Wilkes-Barre in a while, and returning now made me feel kind of depressed. Lacey Brennan lived here – or she used to, before taking an extended vacation to visit her sister. I wondered where Lacey was at that moment, what she was doing, and how she was feeling. I also wondered if she was ever coming back.