“Nooooo…” the voice cried. “Noooooo…”

It was Shoko.

“Which one? Warner, Warner…which one?”

At twenty-five yards, he could see her clearly on her knees at Warner’s side, wailing. Suzi was handcuffed, half sitting, half leaning on the ground, free from Shoko’s grip but not running away.

He ran to her side and dragged her to her feet. She was nearly limp. He held her close and backed off, his gun drawn, but Shoko barely seemed aware of them.

“Nooooo…” she wailed. “Warrrrrrner.”

She looked to the east and grew even more frantic, her crazed eyes coming to rest on them.

“The crystal, give it to me, hurry, hurry.” She reached out her hand.

Erich Warner’s body had been arranged, straight and true on the ground, the Memphis Sphinx on his chest, facing him, facing east. Shoko had duct-taped his hands to the statue, and she had a pile of brightly colored pills poured out onto his handkerchief where she’d laid it on the ground.

Okay, this was weird, and oddly compelling. It was also, Dax realized, an act of utter desperation, and he wondered for a moment if it was love motivating her. Then he thought not. He tossed her the crystal eye, keeping Suzi close, and wondering what in the world Shoko was going to use for blood. Warner was covered in it, but unless he’d had a bad accident on the way up the river, Dax figured most of what he was seeing had come from rolling around in the bottom of the boat with a guy who’d had his throat slit.

He kept backing off. He could have shot her. He was more than ready, but there was this little tug of curiosity he couldn’t deny, and he had a feeling that this was going to be one of those times when things just took care of themselves.

He hadn’t forgotten about the envelope in Warner’s jacket, but for all the trouble he’d gone to, the months of searching, he wanted to see this thing through. He wanted to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was all a bunch of crap.

So he backed off, and he didn’t take his eyes off Shoko, or his finger off the trigger of his.45, and every time she looked to the east, he wondered at the stark fear in her eyes.

She pulled a knife out of a sheath on her belt, and he took up the slack on his trigger.

She looked to the east again and placed her left hand on top of the statue. When moonlight flooded the grassy area, coming up over the tops of the trees and pouring across the wide spot in the river before flowing up the shore, she slashed her wrist, deep.

A cry left her, a cry of such pain, he nearly reached for her. But he didn’t. He watched as her blood spurted out of her artery and poured over the statue, and when the moonlight struck the crystal eyes, he was held in place, enthralled by their glittering luminescence.

It was beautiful, an amazing sight to see, but it wasn’t magic.

A minute passed, then half a minute more with Shoko’s life pouring out of her. Next to him, he felt Suzi take more of her own weight on her feet, felt her come around a little bit, and the two of them stood quietly in the moonlit field and watched Shoko, the Blade Queen of Bangkok, die, and they watched Erich Warner stay as dead as he’d ever been.

But Dax didn’t lower his pistol, not for a second, and when Shoko finally collapsed on her dead lover, he knew the world had suddenly become a better place.

“I’m taking that Sphinx,” Suzi said at his side, and it was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” It was hers. She’d more than earned it. Even if he’d had a use for the damn thing, he’d have let her have it. “Are you okay?”

He stepped back up to the bodies, bent down, and pulled the envelope out of Warner’s jacket. He shoved it way down deep in the cargo pocket on his pants before buttoning the pocket.

“She beat the crap out of me every time I tried to escape, and that was quite a few times.”

“Good for you.” Geezus. He didn’t know a guy who could have come out ahead of Shoko, and his girl had stayed in one piece. “Turn away, Suzi, and cover your ears.”

She didn’t ask why, she just did it, and he put one shot in the back of Shoko’s head. It was just good business.

Together, he and Suzi walked back to the boats, and they found a couple of containers to carry river water back up to where Shoko and Warner were lying with the Sphinx still sitting on Warner’s chest. One container after another, they poured the water over the Sphinx, washing off all the blood. When it was clean, he pulled the duct tape off and Warner’s hands fell to either side, his arms dropping to his sides.

For good measure, they splashed the rest of the river water over it, emptying both containers.

“You want me to carry it for you?” he asked, but she shook her head and bent down to pick up the statue.

What a thing, he thought, all golden and granite and crystalline, warmed by moonlight. It really was beautiful.

Suzi was careful, picking it up and holding it close in to her chest, and they started back down to the boats.

She had it cradled in her arms, facing up, and when they were ten yards from the shore, the eyes lit up like a couple of damn flashlights. Two beams. Bright as frickin’ halogen, cutting through the night like a pair of lasers, and lighting her up like a Macy’s parade.

And then they turned off.

Fuck, he thought.

“Geez,” she said. “Did you see that?”

He let out a short, unhappy laugh.

“Oh, yeah, babe. I saw that.”

Per-fricking-fecto.

Another damn mystery in his life.

“I need a drink.” He was just being honest. Scotch had been invented for times like these.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Creed awoke to the sound of a ringing phone. He was lying flat on his back in the dark… in a cave, that was right. And he’d gotten hit by a pile driver… yeah, that was right.

He rolled onto his side, curled up, and pushed himself to his hands and knees. Geezus. He put one hand on his forehead before he got to his feet. Geezus.

He flipped on his flashlight, arranged his carbine so the sling wasn’t all cattywampus, and then he found the phone, lying on the dock, about twenty feet away.

“Hello,” he said when he answered it.

“What are you doing answering Suzi’s phone?” Dylan asked. He’d recognize the boss’s voice in his sleep.

“I found it in the cave under the house. The one behind the gate we could see on the river.”

“You have Suzi with you?”

“No.” He turned his head one way, very gently, then the other way, just as gently.

“Farrel?”

“No.” He had a few kinks from rumbling with the guy, but he did not have the guy.

“So we lost him.” Dylan didn’t sound too glad about that bit of news.

“Maybe Zach got him.” But Creed doubted it. One guy was not going to take down Conroy Farrel.

“Zach just checked in, empty-handed,” Dylan said. “The house is clear, and he’s headed down to you. Superman and I are coming in.”

“Good.” That was all good. Zach had cleared the house, while he, Creed, had gotten his clock cleaned.

Damn. He knew what he’d seen. It was all coming back in Technicolor.

“What about Killian?” Dylan asked. “We saw him take a go-fast boat out of that cave and head up-river after the gunboat. Have you-forget it. Here he comes now.”

Creed heard it, too.

“Or at least that’s the boat,” Dylan said. “Can you see who’s in it from where you are?”

“I’m in a cave, boss.”

“Oh…right.”

He heard Dylan saying something to Hawkins.

“Okay,” the boss came back on the phone. “Cristo here brought along his night vision goggles, so he’s up one-”

“Two,” Creed heard Superman say.

“Bull, two… oh, he’s taking a point for his superlative body count on the Paraguayans, and all I can say is I hope we don’t read about this in the damn papers. You see a CNN reporter up there anywhere?”