“I see.” I looked down at the floor for a moment, fists clenched. It never fucking lets up, I thought. This had been my whole life, one crisis after another. Where was I going to sleep, another gun pointed in my face, was someone going to try to slit my throat-it never ended. I spun to face the rest of them.

Words died in my mouth as a distant boom thundered through the building.

“Looks like they’re here!” Milton shouted. “I do hope they’re friendly!”

Orel breezed past me, guns in hand. “Looks like I’m earning my keep on this team of yours already,” he said with a wink, whirling around in midstride and walking backward. “With your permission, of course, boss.”

I stared at Orel. “Ty, who the fuck’s at the door?”

Kieth didn’t even look up from his video screens. “Monks.”

XXII

I’M GLAD THEY IGNORED MY SCREAMS OF PAIN

“Strange, strange, strange.”

I watched Orel disappear into the narrow corridor that led to the main entrance of the factory. “What’s strange? And for God’s sake, turn that goddamn alarm off.”

Kieth absent-mindedly made a complex gesture and the alarm cut off.

“There’s only one Monk.”

Milton appeared at my elbow. “What do we do, chief?”

I held up a hand and squinted at Kieth. “Just one? You’re sure?”

“Ty could spot a Monk the size of a mosquito out there, Mr. Cates. There’s just one. It’s moving… erratically.”

Milton spread her arms. “Cates? What’s the word?”

I looked around. “Hold tight,” I ordered. I spun around and found the sisters grinning at me. “Give me a gun.”

They both blinked, almost in unison. Their smiles faded a little.

“What?” said Tanner.

“Whatever piece-of-shit rod you overpaid for back in New York, hand it over.”

They glanced at each other, silent secret twin telepathy sizzling the air between them, and then Tanner reached around herself and extracted a piece from some hidden holster and extended it to me. I reached out in horrified fascination and accepted it.

I stared at the monstrosity “A revolver,” I said. “A goddamned revolver? Where did you even find this relic? Fuck, forget it.” The gun was impossibly heavy in my hand-I was used to the feather light alloys of the Roon-and I suspected the recoil might knock me on my ass. Assuming it didn’t just explode when I pulled the trigger. I turned to Milton. “Hold tight. Don’t move. We’re not being chased out of here by one Monk and a possible distress signal. Kieth!” The bald head whipped around toward me, his eyes wide. “Keep tabs on outside. Get on the PA and warn us if any more friends show up.”

Kieth nodded. “If any transmissions occur, Ty’ll see. Won’t be able to decode ‘em, but at least we’ll know the invites are out.”

I ran after Orel, trotting, the heavy, ancient gun held down by my hip, pointed to the floor. As I approached the main entrance, Orel’s arm shot out from the side wall and pulled me close. My arm came up automatically and put the barrel of the gun in his ribs.

“Cates,” he whispered, “you run like you’re angry at the ground. How old are you again? It’s amazing you’re still alive.”

I tried to control my panting. “A Monk. Just one.”

He loosened his grip. “Just one. It can’t be a rescue job on your prisoner back there, then. They’d send a dozen, two dozen.” He frowned. “Maybe it’s just snuffling around, caught our scent. Thinks it’ll try a group conversion.” He put one of his guns back in its holster. I admired the way the cut of his coat hid both holsters perfectly. “If it’s just a Monk, all it can do is bore us to death.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you fucking believe it, Orel. I’ve seen those things in action. They’re goddamned killing machines.”

His frown deepened. “What the fuck are you talking about? You know who joins the fucking Electric Church? Beggars, dope fiends, small-fry pickpockets. Desperate people starving on their feet-that’s who. You telling me some shitkicker with a tin body becomes a killing machine?”

“You don’t get it, Orel. That’s what Monks are. Doesn’t matter who they were.” I fished my wireless headset from my pocket and fitted it into one ear. “Ty? You with me?”

“Here, Cates,” his voice crackled. “It’s still out there, circling around. Looks like it’s probing our setup.” He cleared his throat, the sound painfully loud in my ear. “I bolted this place down electronically, Cates. Physically there are a dozen spots it could wriggle through.”

I relayed this to Orel, who shrugged, pulling his second gun out again. “Mr. Cates, the main rule of engagement in a deserted neighborhood like this is simple: Control the fucking situation. You don’t want the Tin Man out there coming in? Then stop hiding in here.” He pushed me away. “Open the fucking door.Let’s kick some ass.”

A booming, amplified voice tunneled through the wall, modulated, sweetened, and shatteringly loud.

“Avery Cates! Let me bring you to the end of time, Mr. Cates. Let me save you.” This was followed by a strange, scratchy noise that I slowly realized was laughter. “And by save you, Mr. Cates, I mean I’m going to eat your fucking kidneys, asshole!”

Orel looked at me, but I kept my eyes on the door. “You, uh, know this Monk?”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “Oh, fuck me.” I looked at him. “Yeah. I think I do. You heard about a System Pig joined the Church a few days ago?”

Orel nodded once, his elegantly lined face vaguely mocking, just the hint of a smile. “Went on a rampage. A fucking malfunction or something.”

“Cates! Come out and let me show you an ENDLESS TRAIL OF SUNSETS!”

“Cainnic Orel, or whoever the fuck you are,” I said slowly, “I’d like you to meet Barnaby Dawson, former captain in the SS-fucking-F.”

Orel raised an eyebrow. In my ear, I heard Ty groan. Orel’s eyes slid down to my hand. “Mr. Cates, that is a charming weapon. Are you sure you’re a professional? If we had a guild I might deny you entrance. Very well. Let’s go out there and control this situation, and tear your old friend Dawson into small pieces so we do not repeat this episode, what say you?”

I nodded. “I don’t see a choice here. Let’s go.”

“I’ll go out first and draw fire,” Orel said immediately.

I felt a brief surge of resistance to this idea, which I ruthlessly ignored. I was not going to get into a pissing contest with the old man and get myself killed for the trouble. If the world’s most famous Gunner wanted to take point, I was going to let him.

With a disconcerting wink, Orel shoved the door open and dove outside, hitting the ground, gunshots drilling divots into the pavement just behind him as he rolled away. I pushed myself after him, racing in the opposite direction. The door snicked shut behind me. I dashed around the corner and flattened myself against the wall, thinking, Well, if the goddamn gun doesn’t explode in my hand when I pull the trigger, I guess I’m ahead of the game.

“Mr. Cates, you’ve doubled!” Dawson called out. His voice was identical to that of every Monk I’d ever had the misfortune of hearing. “Didn’t realize you had the scratch for an illegal clone. But you forget, I got religion, and religion tells me that the partial face shot of the first man out the door goes under the alias Cainnic Orel, male, born Philadelphia, aged fifty-seven. That you, Canny? I doubt it, as I’m pretty sure Cainnic got shot to pieces about six years ago in the Mogadishu operation, but we never did find a body, did we? We always assumed this was because we hadn’t left much of a body to be found, but perhaps you’ve merely risen from the dead. You’re still on several Most Wanted lists-”