there yet. And at the harbor, he was too interested in the planes, and then not interested at all."

Where the hell was he? He could not afford to let Griffin speak his name.

"Gruff. Who?"

Where was he?

"Gruff! You all right? Shall I send in help? Griff!"

He'd fooled himself. There was nobody on the dune; he was alone. Nuts. "Fortunato. Tony McWhirter."

"Good enough. Now what? Call the Game?"

But Alex heard a peculiar ragged sigh from overhead.

"I'll get right back to you, Marty." He flipped the wallet closed and pocketed it. "Come on down," he called, and eased his left leg back for balance. McWhirter could still attack, and he might have a sword.

Tony stood up and walked down the slope, leaning slightly backward, plowing up sand. He was unarmed. He stopped several feet away, spread his hands. "I didn't kill anybody," he said.

"You have the right to remain silent," Griffin said. "If you choose to-"

"I know, I watch the boob tube too. Griffin, I didn't kill any­one. The guard almost killed me, but I didn't hurt him. I tied him up and gagged him and left him. He was wriggling around, and I thought of maybe using more bandage, moor him to some furni­ture, maybe. But he wasn't going to get loose quick enough to stop me."

"Nice plan," Griffin said with calculated flatness. "What hap­pened? Did he get a good look at your face?"

"I didn't kill him!"

"He's dead, though. Suffocated. Did you accidentally hold his nose for him?"

Tony dropped onto the sand and put his head between his knees. Griffin heard wet sounds. He prudently kept his distance.

"He was still breathing! I... oh... I cut off his wind till he passed out, but he was breathing when I left him!"

"Where's the neutral scent?" Tony looked up hopefully and started to speak. "No deals," Griffin snapped. "It's probably gone by now anyway. You had to have someone to pick it up."

Tony shook his head violently. "He couldn't have found it. Griffin, that's crazy stuff. When I used it on you I had no idea what it would do to me. I just went crazy with fear. I must have

smashed into every tree in Dream Park. There was a place where I was supposed to leave it, but I never got that far. I just got rid of it. I was afraid of it. I was afraid you'd search me."

"Where?"

"I can show you. Can we deal?"

"I'm promising nothing. The only question you need to ask is, how hard is Dream Park going to lean on you? You get to decide that right now."

"Then get drowned! I don't know who was supposed to get it. Maybe he'll find it before you do."

"Have it your way." Griffin whetted his voice to a cutting edge. "But, Tony, even if Rice died of a stopped up nose, it's murder. California law says that if someone dies as the result of the com­mission of a felony, it's murder. Stand up."

Tony stood. The defiance was gone. "What now?"

"We go tell the others that we're leaving the Game."

The darkness didn't hide the sick dismay on Tony's face. It took Griffin by surprise. "Oh god. This is going to kill Acacia. They won't last five minutes tomorrow."

"You should have thought of that before," said Alex. He sensed Tony's muscles tightening. "Come on, Tony. Playtime's over."

Tony sounded almost hysterical. "I've screwed everything. Ev­erything. Please, Griffin. I can't face them. Please."

"I don't fancy it much either." The brutality in his voice was as much for his own benefit as McWhirter's. "Come on."

You're betraying them to their deaths!

Bulishit. Being killed out isn't dead. Rice is dead.

"Griffin, please! Let's just play out the Game. Give me that much. Just a few hours. Then I'll tell you where it is and turn my­self in."

"Don't be silly." Damn, and we had a good chance of winning, too.

"I'll show you where I put the neutral scent. Tomorrow."

"I can't make that deal. Come on."

Far too late, Tony jumped him. Griffin leaned aside from his wild swing and kicked him in the shin. As Tony doubled in pain Alex seized a handful of hair and an arm, locking him helpless.

Numb and silent, Tony was steered back to the campfire.

The campfire burned low to the coals, and no one seemed to

have the energy to feed it. Kibugonai and Kagoiano were back to serve dinner; their faces were zombie-blank and their death-wounds showed clearly. Lady Janet found the strength to pass around pouches of milk and fruit juice and beer, but her smile was barely lip-deep.

Hardly a head turned as Alex brought Tony stumbling back into camp, until somebody noticed the arm twisted painfully be­hind McWhirter's back. Chester stood, alarm igniting on his face. He bent his knees twice to get some circulation into them and challenged. "All right, Tegner. Just what the hell is going on?"

Alex released Tony, who stood shivering in a circle of question­ing eyes. "Do you want to tell them, or shall I?"

Tony tried to speak, but nothing came out. He gave up and shook his head. Griffin felt pity worming its way to the surface of his mind, and shut his shields down fast. "All right, I'll do it, then."

He had all their attention now. None of them looked at all happy. "Three nights ago, McWhirter broke away from the rest of you and took a private tour. He ended up in the Research and De­velopment department, where he stole a sample of a newly devel­oped... invention." No need to give away more than necessary.

Acacia gasped. "My God. So that's where you were that night." In pain and disorientation she came up to him. "Oh, Tony .

no wonder you've been acting crazy. If only I'd... Tony, why?"

All Tony did was lower his eyes miserably to the ground.

"That's not all," Alex said. Acacia's look tore at him, made him wish he had taken Fortunato out of the Game first and ex­plained later. Or never! "In order to gain access to the complex, Tony had to subdue a guard. In some manner not yet clear, that guard, one Albert Rice, died of suffocation."

Acacia seemed to study him. Then Tony. She said, flatly, "No."

Alex said, "Well, Tony?"

Silently McWhirter nodded his head, tears beginning to run down his cheeks, glistening silver in the firelight.

"Then who are you?" Acacia's query was delivered at a scream. The other Garners seemed transfixed.

"Griffin. Alex Griffin. Chief of Dream Park Security."

Chester looked like he'd looked when the bidi-taurabo-haza found him. "All right... Griffin. What happens now?" He re­

minded Griffin of a man waiting to hear the results of his biopsy:

terrified and fascinated at the same time.

"Now..." Jesus. Do they have to look at me like that? I'm only doing my goddam job. Mary-em sat curled up on the ground with her face between her knees. She didn't want to look at him. A hint of defiance burned in Holly Frost's dark face, quickly sub­dued. "You know what I have to do, dammit. Every one of you knows."

No one argued, and he almost hoped they would. Come on, you fog-headed fanta.sy freaks. Yell at me. Scream. Call me a rent-a-pig. Anything.

Acacia stumbled back to her place near the campfire. She tried to swallow some beer, but it exploded in her mouth. Offie held her as she coughed and sobbed.

"That's it, then," Chester said, taking infinite care not to let his emotions leak into his voice. "We're down to six hands now. To­morrow morning it is." His gaze flicked past Griffin without com­ment, and settled on Tony. For a brief instant something dark and murderous flared in the depths of those eyes, quickly hidden.

Margie Braddon kneaded her hands together as if trying to scrub something indescribably filthy from them. "I had to bring the news in for you. You used Owen and me as couriers, didn't you?"