Standing there, set against the curling smoke and swaying lights of the corridor, she looked like a Valkyrie from Hell.

"Let me guess," I said, just a little tiredly. "You smashed your way in, demanded they turn your bounty over to you, and when they declined, you declared war. Right?"

"I have serious paper on this guy," said Suzie. "And they were very rude to me."

I considered the matter. "I'm sure they're very sorry. Well, try not to kill them all, Suzie. I need someone alive and mostly intact to answer a few questions."

"Hey! Hold everything!" said the voice from behind the far barricade. "It's possible ... we may have been a bit hasty. Nobody here wants to take on Shotgun Suzie and John bloody Taylor unless it's absolutely necessary. Can't we talk about this?"

I looked at Suzie, who shrugged. "All they have to do is hand over my bounty, and I'm out of here."

"If we hand him over, you'll kill him," said the voice. "He came to us for sanctuary."

"The man has a point," I said. "You do tend towards bringing them in dead, rather than alive."

"Less paperwork," said Suzie.

I looked down the corridor at the twenty or so guns facing me. "If Suzie really wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now. She's given you every chance. I really think you should consider surrendering."

"We guarantee the safety of people who come here," the voice said stubbornly. "That's who we are. Why we are. We're willing to discuss a deal, but we won't betray our principles."

I looked at Suzie. "What poor soul are you after, this time?"

"No-one important. Just some scumbag lawyer who grabbed a client's settlement money and did a runner with it. Five million pounds, and change. I'm down for ten per cent of whatever I recover."

"A lawyer?' said the voice. "Oh hell, why didn't you say? If we'd known he was one of them, we'd have given him to you."

I smiled at Suzie. "Another triumph for common sense and diplomacy in action. You see how easy it is, if you just try a little reason first?"

Suzie growled, lowering her shotgun for the first time. "I hate being reasonable. It's bad for my reputation."

I turned back to the far barricade, so she wouldn't see me smile. "I'm here looking for a teenage runaway, name of Cathy Barrett. Who may have got herself into more trouble than she realises. Name ring any bells?"

"I'm not coming out while Suzie's still there," said the voice from behind the barricade.

"You don't have to come out," I said patiently. "Just answer the question. Unless you want me to get a bit peeved with you too."

"Cathy was here," the voice said quickly, "but she took off, a week or so back. Said something was calling to her. Something wonderful. We all tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen. And this isn't a prison, so... She said something about Blaiston Street. And that's all I know."

"Thank you," I said. "You've been very helpful."

"Not like we had much of a choice," said the voice. "Word's already going around about what you did to those poor bastards outside Strangefellows. They're still mopping up the mess."

I just nodded. It wasn't the first time things had been attributed to me that were none of my doing.

Eddie probably started this particular rumour, as a way of saying sorry. It helps to have a reputation for being a bit of a bastard. People will believe anything of you.

"I'll leave you and Suzie to sort this out between you," I said. "Just give her everything she asks for, and you shouldn't have any more problems with her."

"Thanks a whole bunch," said the voice bitterly. "I think I'd rather face the aliens again."

I gestured for Suzie to step around the corner for a moment, so we could talk privately. I introduced her to Joanna, and the two women smiled at each other. I just knew they weren't going to get on.

"So," said Suzie, "found another lost lamb to look after, have you, John?"

"It's a living," I said. "Been a while, Suzie."

"Five years, three months. I always knew you'd come crawling back to me someday."

"Sorry, Suzie. I'm only here because I'm working a case. Soon as I find my runaway, I'm out of here. Back to the safe, sane, everyday world."

She stepped forward, fixing me with her wild, serious gaze. "You'll never fit in there, John. You belong here. With the rest of us monsters."

I didn't have an answer for that, so Joanna stepped into the silence. "What, precisely, is your connection with John, Miss Shooter?"

Suzie snorted, loudly. "I shot him once, but he got

over it. Paper I had on him turned out to be fake. We've worked together, on and off. Good man in a tight corner. And he always leads me where the action is. The real action. Never a dull moment, when John's around."

"Is that all there is to your life?" said Joanna. "Violence, and killing?"

"It's enough," said Suzie.

I decided the conversation had gone about as far as it was safe for it to go, and turned to Joanna. "I know Blaiston Street. Not far from here. Bad neighbourhood, even for the Nightside. If Cathy has gone to ground there, the sooner we find her, the better."

"Need any help?" said Suzie.

I looked at her thoughtfully. "Wouldn't say no, if you're offering. You busy?"

She shrugged. "Things have been quiet recently. I hate quiet. Just let me finish up here and collect what I'm owed, and I'll catch up with you. Usual fee?"

"Sure," I said. "My client's good for it."

Suzie looked at Joanna. "She'd better be."

Joanna started to say something, noticed that Suzie's shotgun was pointing right at her, and very sensibly decided not to take offence. She ostentatiously turned her back on Suzie, and fixed her attention on me.

"At least now we've got an address. What are the odds Cathy could have got into serious trouble there?"

"Hard to say, without knowing what drew her there. I wouldn't have thought there was anything on Blaiston Street to attract anyone. There isn't anywhere lower, except maybe the sewers. It's where you end up when you can't fall any further. Unless things have changed dramatically, since I was away. Suzie?"

She shook her head. "Still a snake pit. If you burned the street down, the whole city would smell better."

"Don't worry," I said quickly to Joanna. "She's your daughter. You said yourself she can look after herself. And we're right on her heels now."

"Don't put money on it," said Joanna, the corners of her mouth turning down. "Cathy's always been good at giving people the slip."

"Not people like us," I said confidently.

"There are no people like us," said Suzie Shooter.

"Thank God," said the voice from behind the far barricade.

 Joanna and I left Suzie Shooter intimidating the entire Fortress through the sheer force of her appalling personality, and headed for Blaiston Street. Where the wild things are. Every city has at least one area where all the rules have broken down, where humanity comes and goes, and civilisation is a sometime thing. Blaiston Street is the kind of area where no-one has ever paid any rent, where even the little comforts of life go only to the strongest, and plague rats go around in pairs because they're frightened. It's mob rule, on the few occasions when the brutal inhabitants can get their act together long enough to form a mob. They live in the dark because they like

it that way. Because that way they can't see how far they've fallen. Drink, drugs and despair are the order of the day on Blaiston Street, and no-one ends up there by accident. Which made Cathy's choice of destination all the more disturbing. What on earth, or under it, could have called a vital, mostly sensible young girl like her to such a place?