He had a bottle of designer water on the table in front of him, with flies crawling all over it. More flies buzzed around Eddie, except for the ones that got too close, and fell dead out of the air. I smiled at Eddie, and he nodded gravely back. I pulled up a chair opposite him. The smell was every bit as bad as I'd remembered it, but I like to think it didn't show

in my face. Joanna pulled up a chair beside me, trying hard to breathe only through her mouth. When Eddie spoke, his voice was low, controlled, almost ghostly.

"Hello, John. Welcome home. You're looking well. Why is it you only ever come to see me when you want something?"

"You're not always the easiest man to find, Eddie. And, you're a spooky bastard. So, how are things? Killed anyone interesting recently?"

The ghost of a smile moved across his pale lips. "No-one you'd know. I hear you're looking for a runaway."

Joanna started. "How did you know that?"

"Word gets around, in the Nightside," said Eddie. He turned his disturbingly bright eyes on me. 'Try the Fortress."

I nodded. I should have thought of that one myself. "Thanks, Eddie."

"You'll find Suzie there."

"Oh good," I said, trying to sound pleased. Suzie and I have a history. I was about to push back my chair when Eddie turned suddenly to look at Joanna, who started again under the impact of his gaze.

"You be careful around this man, miss. John isn't the safest of people to keep company with."

"Anything specific in mind, Eddie?" I said carefully.

"There are people looking for you, John."

"There are always people looking for me."

Eddie smiled gently. "These are bad people."

I waited, but he had nothing more to say. I nodded my thanks and rose to my feet. Joanna scrambled quickly to hers. I took her back to the bar. She breathed deeply all the way, and then shuddered suddenly.

"Awful little man. And what was that stench? I swear, he smelled like something that had died and then been dug up again."

"There are things about Razor Eddie it's best not to ask," I said wisely. "For our own peace of mind."

We were back at the bar again. Alex glowered at me in greeting. I looked at Joanna.

"You wait here, while I get word to the Fortress that we're coming. It's best not to surprise people with that many guns."

I moved off down the bar to use the courtesy phone. But even as I hit the numbers, listened to a recorded voice from the Fortress and left a brief message, I was still listening carefully to Joanna as she talked with Alex. Keep a close eye on your enemies, but a closer one on your friends. And clients. You tend to live longer that way, in my business. Alex gave Joanna what he thinks is his ingratiating smile. She didn't smile back.

"I'll have a large whiskey. Single malt. No ice."

"At last," said Alex. "A civilised drinker. You wouldn't believe what I get asked for some nights.

Designer beers and flavoured spirits and bloody cocktails with soft pom names. One guy actually wanted a piledriver, vodka with prune juice. Animal."

He poured Joanna a generous measure in a reasonably clean glass. She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know John Taylor."

"For my sins, yes."

"How well do you know him?"

"As well as he'll let me," said Alex, unusually serious. He has a weakness for blondes, especially ones that don't take any shit from him. That's why I left them alone together. Alex leaned across the bar to Joanna. "John doesn't believe in letting people in. And it has been five years ... Still, I knew he'd be back someday. This place has its claws in him. Born in the Nightside, he'll die in the Nightside, and it won't be of old age. Always has to be the white knight, riding in to rescue some poor bastard caught between a rock and a hard place. The ones with no-one else to turn to. John's always been a sucker for a hard luck story, and it would appear he's still arrogant enough to believe he knows what's best for everyone."

"Why did he become a private detective?"

"He has a gift for finding things. Only decent thing he got from his parents. You know the story? Everyone here does. How John's father killed himself by inches after finding out the woman he married

wasn't... entirely human. I feel much the same about my ex-wife. May she rest in peace."

"I'm sorry," said Joanna. "When did she die?"

"She didn't," said Alex. "It's just wishful thinking on my part."

"Can I trust Taylor?" said Joanna forcefully.

"You can trust him to do what he feels is best. Which may or may not be what you want. So watch yourself."

"Razor Eddie said we should go to the Fortress."

Alex winced at the name, but nodded. "Sounds about right."

"What is it? Another bar?"

"Hardly. The Fortress is a heavily fortified refuge for people who've been abducted by aliens. A whole lot of them got together, bought a whole lot of guns, and made it clear to all and sundry that they weren't being taken again without one hell of a fight. There's a television camera in every room, so they can be watched over even while they sleep. Some of them even have explosive devices taped to their bodies, ready to be triggered at a moment's notice. Word is there's enough ammo and bombs in that place to fight a fairly major war."

"Does it work?" said Joanna.

Alex shrugged. "They're not the kind of people you ask personal questions of. They're always on the lookout for Men in Black. Anyway, over the years the Fortress has become something of a haven for

anyone who needs help or protection, or just somewhere safe and secure to crash for a few days. A lot of runaways pass through the Fortress."

"Are they good people?"

"Oh sure. Paranoid, violent and crazy as a cat on crack, but..."

I decided I'd heard enough. I put the phone down and went back to join them. Alex might or might not have known I was listening. It didn't matter. I nodded to Joanna.

"All I can get is the answerphone. We'll have to go round there and ask in person."

"Can't wait," said Joanna. She downed the last of her drink in one. Alex blinked respectfully a few times. Joanna slammed the glass down on the bar. "Put it on Taylor's tab."

"You're learning," said Alex.

I headed for the metal stairs, Joanna at my side. No-one looked around as we passed. Joanna looked at me suddenly.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Did they really eat their dog?"

 We left Strangefellows, stepping out into the sullen gloom of the back alley, and the solid steel door shut itself firmly behind us. On the whole, things hadn't gone too badly. Eddie had come up with a solid lead, no-one serious had tried to kill me, and Alex hadn't even mentioned my long-standing bar bill. Presumably because he knew a rich client when he saw one. I'd hate to think he was getting soft. Joanna looked vaguely about her, frowned, and hugged herself tightly, shivering suddenly. Understandable. The alley was freezing cold, with thick whorls of hoarfrost on the walls and cobbled ground. The night had turned distinctly wintry in the short time we'd been

inside. Joanna looked at me accusingly, her breath steaming thickly on the still air.

"All right, what happened to the weather? It was a nice balmy summer night when we went through that door."

"We don't really have weather, as such, in the Nightside," I explained patiently. "Or seasons, either. Here, the night never ends. Think of temperature changes here less as weather, and more as moods. Just the city, expressing itself. If you don't like the current conditions, wait a minute, and something new but equally distressing will come along. Sometimes, I think we get the weather we deserve here. Which is probably why it rains a lot."