"Perfectly," Galway said through stiff lips, a hot flush creeping up his neck. Quinn turned and stalked off; turning back to the displays. Galway clenched his jaw and waited for the fury to subside.

It did so quickly. This wasn't a matter of pride or jurisdiction, whatever Quinn chose to believe. It was the potential survival of Plinry—and even if it killed him, he would give the general all the help against Caine that he could.

A good and noble resolution. Galway hoped he'd be able to hang onto it.

—

Kanai awoke on the first buzz from the phone, lying still for a half second as his senses flicked around his bedroom. He was alone, and all was secure.... On the third buzz he answered. "Yes?"

"Kanai, you krijing son of a delwart toad, what the krijing hell was that all about?"

"Vac it," Kanai snapped into the tirade. The voice was strained with fury, but recognizable enough.

Manx Reger. "Back up and try it again, Reger—and try to be civil this time."

"Civil!" Reger spat. "You pull crap like this and you want me to be civil? I oughtta—"

"What crap? Reger, shut up and tell me what the hell you're talking about."

"Don't play cutesy with me, Kanai. You tell Bernhard that this time he's gone too far. Your krijing blackcollars have no business making trouble in my territory, damn you. I'm deducting the medical costs for my boys from Sartan's cut—you can figure out how to pay him back. And I want my car back, intact. You got that?"

"Reger—"

"And if you pull anything like this again, you'll have a full-scale war on your hands. Sartan can count on it."

"Reger, listen—"

The line went dead. Kanai stared at the phone for half a dozen heartbeats more before folding it back up, a hard knot beginning to form in his stomach. It was impossible—no blackcollars were out in northwest Denver making trouble for the hell of it.

At least none of Bernhard's team were.

Kanai thought about that for a long minute. Then, opening the phone, he punched for Bernhard's secure line.

The comsquare answered on the third buzz. "Yes?"

"Kanai. We've got new blackcollars in town."

A brief pause. "How do you know?"

Kanai recounted his one-sided conversation with Reger.

"Could this just be the setup for some kind of elaborate trap?" Bernhard asked when he'd finished.

"He's been sulking ever since we slapped his nose a month ago."

"I doubt it. He's smart enough to pull something like that, but he doesn't strike me as being actor enough to foam-mouth that convincingly."

Bernhard hissed between his teeth. "Great. Just great. Where the hell could new blackcollars have come from? Never mind. Wherever they're from, we've got to track them down before they trigger a flash fire that'll crash everything. I'll alert the rest of the team, see if we can find a trail. Reger give any hint as to where they might have gone?"

"Only that they apparently took one of his cars to travel in." Kanai pursed his lips. "Bernhard, what chance they've been brought in by one of the other bosses as a counter to us?"

"And stumbled into Reger's territory by mistake?" Bernhard swore softly under his breath. "I hope to hell that's not it."

"Yeah. Well... we meeting at the usual place?"

"We are; you aren't. Whatever's going on, I don't want you away from the contact phone. New data could come in; the damn blackcollars themselves might even get your number and call."

"Okay." Kanai looked at his watch. Three-fifteen a.m. "The usual emergency comm setup?"

"Right. I'll check with you periodically for nonemergency news. Sit tight and watch your back."

"Sure. Good hunting."

Carefully Kanai folded the phone and replaced it on his nightstand. Just as carefully, he stepped to the window for a cautious look outside. Pure reflex, and faintly ridiculous besides—the sensor web around his house would have picked up any intruder long before he became visible.

Any normal intruder, that is. Could a blackcollar team circumvent the web?

Kanai shivered. Were the new blackcollars indeed merely another set of hired hands? Or could they still be fighting the Terran-Ryqril War? And if the latter, what would they think of the course Kanai and his fellows had taken?

It doesn't matter what they think, Kanai told himself fiercely... and knew it was a lie. To see his own self-disgust reflected back by the eyes of those who had not shamed themselves would be a humiliation he wasn't prepared to face.

If they came for him now, and offered him the choice, he wondered if he would have the nobility and the courage to perform the seppuku of his ancestors.

No one moved in the street outside. Letting the edge of the curtain fall, Kanai went to his closet and began to dress.

—

The bar closed at three a.m. sharp, and the half-dozen remaining customers had staggered out by three-oh-five. It was another half hour before the barman emerged, locked the door behind him, and trudged toward the single remaining car in the lot. Lathe let him get within two steps of the vehicle before rising from his concealment on its far side. "Good morning," he said conversationally. "You remember me, I trust."

The barman froze, and in the faint starlight Lathe could see the other's mouth working soundlessly.

"I see you do," the comsquare nodded. "Phelling, wasn't it?"

Phelling finally got his vocal cords unstuck. "What do you want with me? I got nothing against you."

"Maybe we've got something against you," Skyler suggested, coming up on Phelling from behind.

"You and this Reger character."

Phelling seemed to shrink. "Oh, sh—look, sir, I don't have anything to do with him—really."

"You just act as fingerman?" Lathe suggested.

"What? Hey, look, I had to call his people in when you came on with that smuggler slidetalk."

"Maybe," Skyler said darkly. "Maybe you were just looking forward to shooting down a couple of helpless strangers."

"No! No, I swear—"

"And at any rate," Skyler interrupted, "you're the only one available to use as an object lesson."

Lathe gave that a few seconds to sink in. "Unless you want to tell us where we can find Manx Reger, that is," he said.

Phelling turned wide eyes on the comsquare. "I told you—I'm not part of his organization. If he's not home I don't know where he could be. You've gotta believe me."

"No, we don't," Lathe said. "But for the moment we'll settle for his home address."

Phelling opened his mouth, closed it again. "His... home address? But... you've been there. I mean, you tore up the place a month ago, didn't you?"

Lathe exchanged glances with Skyler. Their first positive confirmation that there were indeed other blackcollars operating in Denver. Doing... what?

For the moment, the question would keep. "Let's just say we've been out of touch with the other blackcollars in town," he told Phelling. "The hows and whys don't concern you. What concerns you is that we want to talk to Reger and you're going to show us the way."

Phelling had apparently gotten stuck half a statement back. "You trying to get in touch with the other blackcollars—is that it? Hell, that's easy. Their contact man Kanai goes to the Shandygaff Bar in Central Denver on Tuesday nights to wait for new business—"

"We'll get to them later," Lathe cut him off. "Right now, all we want is Reger. Let's go."

Phelling licked his lips. "I... yeah, sure, I'll take you there. Sure. The place isn't a secret."

"Good." Lathe sent a brief tingler message, and a minute later Hawking drove their appropriated car into the lot. "Get in," Lathe told Phelling as Skyler opened the front door. "Let's have your keys first."

Wordlessly, the barman handed them over and climbed in, Skyler getting in behind him. Lathe tossed Phelling's keys to Mordecai as he and Jensen emerged from their backup concealment. "No memory slips, Phelling," the comsquare warned, sliding in behind Hawking.