"You might be right," Jack said.

    Like hell. No way Hank would give up on that baby. He and his late unlamented brother Jerry saw Dawn's baby as the Key to the Future. Only three reasons he'd pull the flyers: Dawn was dead, Dawn had gotten an abortion, or Dawn had been found and was under his control.

    Clearing out Kicker HQ on such short notice added a lot of weight to number three. If true, she could be inside right now.

    "Nice night."

    Jack turned away and looked up, pretending to stare at the sky, but really checking for a vantage point that would allow him to see into the building. As he scanned the cornices of the rooftops across the street he spotted a flash of reflection—a double flash, side by side.

    As in binoculars.

    Her scream jolted Hank. Why—?

    Oh, yeah. The sword. He'd been swinging it around when she stepped into the room. Must have thought he was going to attack her.

    "Hey, it's all right," he said, lowering the blade. "I'm just playing with it."

    She stood inside the doorway, trembling, her eyes shifting left and right.

    "Wh-where's Jerry?"

    Jerry? Did she think he was still alive?

    Of course she did. She'd known him as Jerry Bethlehem. As far as anyone knew, Jerry Bethlehem was a murder suspect on the run from the law. But that had been an assumed identity. His body had been ID'd and he'd been declared dead under his real identity, Jeremy Bolton. No way Dawn could connect the two.

    He studied her. She didn't look pregnant. He barely recognized her. She'd lost weight, and with her blond hair dyed brown and cut short, he might have passed her on the street without recognizing her. Only when he focused on her puggish face did he know for sure it was her.

    And he wanted to slug her. Or cut her.

    Probably not the best idea to be holding the katana while talking to her, but he liked the way it felt in his hands.

    He fumed at the thought of how she'd come within a few feet and a few seconds of killing Jeremy's baby. If she'd set foot inside that clinic, she'd have been out of reach and the Plan would be in ashes right now.

    But much as he wanted to, he couldn't hurt her. Not while she carried the Key to the Future.

    But after the baby was born… a whole new ball game.

    Then again, maybe not. She'd be the Mother of the Key, which might make her untouchable.

    So Hank bottled his fury while he considered what to say.

    She thought Jerry was alive… maybe he could use that.

    "Jerry's not here at the moment."

    "Where is he?"

    "Around. He doesn't want to see you yet. He's too mad at you for running off and putting us to all this trouble."

    "Us?"

    "Him, me, all the Kickers. We've spent a lot of money and a lot of manhours looking for you."

    She frowned. "What's in it for you?"

    "Why, the welfare of your baby, of course."

    She was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You… you look like him."

    Hank noticed Menck and Darryl still standing in the doorway.

    He waved them off. "Close the door behind you." Then he turned to Dawn and said, "Like who?" though he knew exactly who.

    "Like him. Put a beard on you and—oh, Jesus! You're related!"

    "True. Jerry wa—" He caught himself. Almost said was. Have to watch that. "Jerry and I had the same father. He's my half brother. And that… " He pointed to her midsection "… is my nephew."

    She grabbed her belly with both hands and backed away until she was pressed against the door.

    "Oh, God!"

    She began to cry, and he couldn't help feeling a little—just a little—sad for her. After all, she was only eighteen. Just a kid. She hadn't asked for this.

    But on the other hand, she wouldn't even exist if not for the Plan, so she owed the Plan. Owed it her life. And all the Plan was asking in return was the baby she didn't even want, the baby she was on her way to kill.

    He spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "It's not the end of the world, Dawn. It's nine months out of your life. And you're already—what?—almost two months into it. So we're talking maybe seven months here. You see it through, and then, if you don't want the baby, you walk away and spend the rest of your life any way you want to. If you want to stay and help raise him, you'll never want for anything ever again."

    She stopped crying and glared at him as she spoke through her gritted teeth.

    "I don't want this baby! I know who Jerry is and I want this obscene thing out of me! If I could rip it out with my hands I would. It shouldn't even exist. I don't know what you two are up to or what you think this baby's going to be, and I don't care. Find your 'Key to the Future' somewhere else!" Her voice rose to a scream. "I don't want it!"

    Hank felt heat filling his head. "Well, you're going to have it so get used to it, babes. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but that's the way it's gonna be."

    "Yeah?"

    She got a wild look in her eyes, and then suddenly she was charging him. No, not him—for the sword. He pivoted and moved it out of her reach. That was when he realized that she had no interest in him or the sword. She was heading for the window. And at the rate she was moving, it couldn't be just for a look. The window—a single piece of old glass—was down but she looked like she was going to jump right through it.

    Hank dropped the sword and dove for her. He tackled her around the knees.

    As they hit the floor, he shouted, "Menck! Darryl! Get in here!"

    They burst into the room saying "Oh shit!" in unison. They each grabbed Dawn by an arm and hauled her to her feet.

    "You can't keep me here! You can't make me a prisoner! It's against the law. I'll kill myself rather than stay here!"

    Hank rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

    "Take her back to the basement."

    He heard her screaming about how they couldn't keep her here all the way down the hall.

    Well, she was right about that. This old building in the heart of lower Manhattan was possibly the worst place on the planet to hold her. But he had to keep her somewhere, and preferably close to the city.

    He picked up the sword and began swinging it in figure eights again. Where-where-where?

    And then the sword gave him the answer—sort of. It reminded him of the North Fork and all the farm country there. Had to be some isolated cabin or old farmhouse for rent.

    Yeah.

    He tossed the sword onto the bed and headed for the office on the first floor. They had a computer there. He'd start with Craigslist. If he couldn't find anything there, he'd contact some Realtors first thing in the morning.

    Watching the watcher…

    Jack kept an eye on the guy with the binocs from behind the rotting boards of a defunct rooftop water tank. He'd sneaked over from the adjoining roof. These old buildings rarely had working alarms on their roof access doors.

    At three stories this particular building matched the height of the Lodge across the street. The guy was all in black and his interest seemed particularly focused on one lit window on the second floor. It must have opened into a high-ceilinged room because it was half again as high as a regular window. Still, Jack couldn't see inside from his angle.

    Hank had said that the Scientologists and Dormentalists had it in for him because so many of their suckers were defecting to the Kickers. Could this guy be—?