" 'Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.' '

"Enough. Pass the bottle." I heard it clink against his teeth. "You know the line from the act after that, the one about the clown?"

" 'It is meat and drink to me to see a clown?"

"That's it. Meat and drink. Remember that."

"What happened to Hassan?"

"He took second best. Consolation prize."

"The Poodle?"

He did not answer, and he was silent for a long time after that. Once he mumbled about not bringing peanuts. Once he grunted as he took off his shoes and stretched out on the bunk. After that I heard his even breathing as he slept, and then I heard him turn over.

"Ben, you awake?"

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

"About two."

"Listen, you got that check of mine with you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Could I have it back now? I mean, once we walk out of here and you zap me, it's over. So could I have it back?"

There was no reason not to. The check had served its purpose. I dug it out of my pocket, and handed it to him. I heard him rip it in half, and then in half again. He said, "Thanks. Is it enough to say thanks?"

"Don't get sloppy on me. Go back to sleep."

I heard him turn over again. My own eyes felt heavy, and I fought the temptation to close them. Only a few more hours and the hunt would be over, but I was beginning to get the feeling that I was guarding an empty castle. If two hundred players in the game couldn't find Calvin, then how was Madrigal going to do it? Only through a stroke of luck, and the professionals of David Ogden's world didn't operate on luck. So how? If I were Madrigal, how would I…?

And there it was. So simple, really.

"Calvin."

"What?"

"How much did the other guy offer you?"

"What other guy?"

"You sold me out. You made a deal with someone else."

He was silent.

"Didn't you?"

"No, I swear I didn't."

I went into his head. He was lying. It was all there, screaming guilt. He had made the deal, all right, and someone was waiting out there on the deck. I said quietly, "How much did he promise you? Half of it? More?"

"Hey, do you really think I'd do something like that?"

"Which was why you had to have the check back. How much, Calvin?"

He sighed. "Half. Guy comes up to me yesterday afternoon, makes me the offer, and 'I did greedily devour the treacherous bait.' '

"No more Shakespeare. Talk."

"Look, do you know how often I get a proposition like that? At least once every trip, and I always say no. But I figure, I already sold out to you, so why not? Ten grand from him, and if I can get the check back from you I'm home free. Which is just the way it's working out."

"Cute."

"Remember, I told you I was a fuck-up."

"So you did. And, of course, you told him where you would be hiding."

He shrugged. "How else?"

"Which means he's waiting out there now."

"That's the deal. Hey, where are you going?"

I was off the bunk and moving aft to the cabin door. "Calvin, you're right, you're a world-class fuck-up, and if you want to do something right for just once in your life you'll stay here and keep quiet. You understand? Don't move, not for anything."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have an investment to protect."

I went out of the cabin on my belly, rolled over the side of the launch, grabbed the davit, and dropped to the deck. I took out the silenced Walther, and let it hang in my hand at my side. The Bridge Deck looked dark and deserted, and I did not try to hide myself. Madrigal would be looking for Calvin, not for me.

I started forward, leaving the launch behind me, and I felt his presence before I saw him. He was about a hundred feet up the deck, and I went into his head as soon as I got within range. It was a cool head, uncluttered. He had what he saw as a simple job to do, and he was ready to do it as soon as Calvin showed his face. With what as a weapon? I tapped deeper. One of those paint pistols? Not likely. I pushed harder on the tap. Yeah, a paint pistol, but then I saw what he had done to the toy they had given him in the Main Lounge. He had modified the paint mixture with a strong dose of-I had to stretch for it-Saxitoxin-D. Talk about biological assault with a vengeance. One drop of that on Calvin's skin, thirty seconds to kill him, and the beauty part is that it comes out looking like a heart attack. Very sophisticated high-level Agency equipment. The night was warm, and I was suddenly chilled.

I saw him then. He was standing with his back against the rail. It was too dark to see his face clearly, or to tell his age. He nodded as I came near.

"Hi, there," he said in a low, smooth voice. "You playing the Calvin game?"

"That's right. You, too?"

"I was, but I think I've had enough. Time to turn in. Good luck, and happy hunting."

"Thanks, but I'm not hunting anymore, Mister Madrigal. I found what I was looking for."

He stiffened, and then forced himself to relax. "Well now, what have we here?"

"I'm a messenger, and if I know your name, then you know who sent me."

He stood motionless. "That's impossible. He's dead."

"There are other people who know who you are."

"What's your message?"

"Your assignment has been aborted. At the highest level. It's over."

"That's also impossible."

"Don't give me that crap about Gilbraltar Rules. We're playing by new rules now." I showed him the pistol. There was light enough for that. "My rules."

"Is he up there in that launch?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me, I said that it's over. If you try to get him, I'll have to stop you."

"I'm unarmed."

"Except for that pistol in your pocket."

"That pistol is a toy, a paint gun for the game."

"And the paint is loaded with Saxitoxin-D."

"Christ, how the hell…" He thought about it. "You're a sensitive."

"And you're a murderer, but not this time. Reach into your pocket and take out that toy. Take it out by the barrel. If it comes out any other way, you're dead. Take it out, and toss it over the side."

"I don't give up my weapon, not to anyone."

His voice was hard. I was inside his head, and I could feel the anger there. He was working himself up to make a move.

"Take it out and toss it over."

"And if I don't?"

"This pistol is silenced. It wouldn't bother me one little bit to blow your head off, and dump you over the rail."

"You? I don't think so." He blew out air like a bull snorting. He was still working up to it. "Sensitives are gentlemen, they play by the rules. They don't do cold-blooded murder."

"Let's not find out. Come on, the toy."

He was ready, he had decided to do it. Inside his pocket, his fingers closed around the pistol, one finger on the trigger. I could see it all inside his head. He was no more than six feet away from me, and I knew what a drop of that paint could do.

He shook his head. "No, you'd never do it. Not a sensitive. Not a gentleman."

He started to pull the pistol from his pocket. I shot him twice, and the bullets hurled him back against the rail. The pistol never came out. He stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and surprise. They were starting to glaze.

"Gentlemen don't cheat at cards, either," I told him, but he did not hear me. He was gone. He sagged against the rail, and I caught him before he could fall. I grabbed an arm and a leg, and rolled him over the rail. It was a long way down, and I never heard the splash. I threw my pistol after him, and looked up and down the deck. It was empty.

I heard a scream, and I jumped. I heard another, and another. They were coming from the launch. I sprinted aft, scrambled up the davit, and swung on board. I went through the cabin door shoulder first, and stopped. Someone had turned on a light. Calvin lay flat on the bunk, and he was covered with red and blue spots of paint. Two young women stood over him, toy pistols in their hands. They were screaming at the top of their lungs.