– Dobbs was Horde's peeper. He had all the goods on his wife and her lovers. She had her own plan. Wanted to take off with her daughter, but knew Horde could make her out as an unfit mother. She went to Dobbs for the pictures and whatnot, and he balked. So she choked him to death and grabbed the stuff.

– You are certain?

– When we met she asked about my sense of smell. Could I tell her scent? Next time I saw her she was scrubbed and clean, just like whoever did Dobbs. It was her. She wanted to get her daughter out.

– Yes, I can see that. And it brings us back around to where we started. Back to my question. Where is the girl?

– You don't need her.

– The girl.

– Let the girl be, she doesn't know anything. She was fucking unconscious when it happened. I got rid of Horde, let the girl be.

– Yes, Pitt, you got rid of Horde. And you got rid of his wife, as well. Which leaves the girl as Horde's heir, heir to the stock, Pitt.

He takes off his jacket.

– An underage girl.

He tucks his tie inside his shirt.

– For whom that stock will now be held in inviolable trust.

He unclips his cuff links.

– Controlled by the Horde family's rather too incorruptible lawyers.

He rolls up his left sleeve.

– Until she comes of age at twenty-one.

He rolls up his right sleeve.

– Unless she dies in the same horrible, disfiguring fireball of an automobile accident in which her parents will be shortly dying.

He puts his hand out to the giant.

– In which case the stock will be made available to the other shareholders. And, I believe, I have already told you who those shareholders are.

The giant places a pair of black leather gloves in his hand.

– So.

He pulls the tight gloves on and snugs them over his knuckles.

– Where? Is? The? Girl?

I look at his hands, then his face.

– I gave her to Lydia Miles.

He doesn't move.

– Lydia Miles?

– You know, the Society's resident gay rights loudmouth.

– Where did she take the girl?

– Got me. But if I don't call in a couple days she'll give her to Terry Bird.

I decide it's time for another smoke, so I get one ready.

– And did I mention that I have Horde's teeth?

Light it.

– Not his real teeth mind you, just those fancy fake dentures of his. Now those are some interesting dentures. Not too many reasons for dentures like those, full of a nasty bacteria and all. Unless you plan on making a bunch of zombies on someone else's turf and you want them to look normal. Normal for zombies, I mean. Shit like that would be just the thing to make Terry ready to hook up with Grave Digga and launch a two-front offensive on the Coalition. Something like that he could take to all the small Clans. The Dusters, the Wall, even the Outer Borough freaks, they'd all flip. Hell, Daniel might be interested in something like that. Picture that: Daniel and a dozen Enclave knocking on your door. Gives you the chills.

Predo's fists close tight. I can hear the leather squeak.

– Where are the teeth?

After I got Amanda dressed, I stripped and wiped blood from myself with Horde's clean undershirt. He was far too skinny for anything of his to fit me, but I managed to scavenge an outfit from the enforcer and the goon. Then I went through the pockets of my own discarded clothes and found the picture of Amanda, the one she had ripped in two. I fit the halves together and translated the torn and stained phone number on the back. I had the girl in my arms when I remembered the teeth.

I found the case in Horde's clothes. The hinge creaked slightly when I opened it. Inside, the teeth were fitted snugly in a foam rubber nest. They gleamed. He must have cleaned off Marilee's blood before he put them away. I eased them out, careful not to touch the biting surfaces. They looked perfect, like the healthiest teeth in the world, a bit on the sharp side perhaps. I opened them. The canines had tiny black dimples at the tips, holes smaller than those of syringes. Inside they would be hollow, a delivery system for something that isn't supposed to exist outside a human body. I closed them and returned them to the case.

I collected the girl, found the door she had told me about and carried her out of the school. It was raining, hours after midnight and the street was empty except for a couple scuttling past, trying to share a too-small umbrella. I got to the pay phone on the corner, called Lydia and gave her the girl.

Then I came home, got cleaned up, left the teeth sitting on the bathroom sink, and forgot about them until right now.

– The teeth are someplace safe. Someplace they'll stay as long as the girl stays safe. Something happens to her, I send the teeth to Bird

He frowns

– Who sends them if anything happens to you?

I blink. And that's enough for him to know. He smiles.

- You did not give them to anyone. They are simply hidden someplace, are they not?

Quickly, you only get one chance at this.

– I gave them to Lydia with the girl.

He shakes his head.

– No. You did not. They are hidden someplace. Someplace close at hand, I would say.

He exhales.

– And so. Here we are again. But with a variation. Where is the girl, and where are the teeth?

I think about making a break for it, but I'm done. So I take a drag instead and say what's on my mind.

– Predo, you're a dick.

The uppercut catches me under the jaw and dislocates it. I fly into the air, across the bed, crash into the wall and tumble onto the mattress. He's stronger than the enforcer was.

The giant scoops me up and full nelsons me in front of Predo. Predo squares up.

– Where?

I try to say something smart, but can't get my jaw to move, so I just shake my head. Predo cocks his fist. He'll knock my jaw clear off this time.

– 'Lo, Joe.

We all look up to the top of the little circular stair that leads down to this room. I grind my jaw and it pops into place.

– Hurley. How you doing?

He stands at the top of the stairs looking down at us, a huge hammerlike .45 held casually in either hand, neither of them pointing at anything, yet.

– OK. Door's unlocked up 'ere.

– Yeah?

– Tought I'd come in. Ya don't mind?

– Naw.

He nods at Predo.

– Mr. Predo.

Predo lowers his fist.

– Hurley. It has been a long time. How is Terry?

– Same. But he won't like yer bein' down 'ere none, Mr. Predo.

– He'll be understanding on this occasion. Trust me.

The giant is eyeing Hurley, wearing the unmistakable expression of a big man who wants to prove he's the most dangerous guy in the room. Hurley keeps his eyes on Predo, wearing the expression of a man who knows who the most dangerous guy in the room is. Predo's face shows nothing.

Hurley lets the barrel of one of the forty-fives wave in my direction.

– Terry sent me over. Wants ta see ya.

– He's back?

– Yeah, wants ta see ya.

– Well, I'm busy, but I think I can get away.

I look at Predo. He lifts his chin at the giant, and the giant releases my arms.

– Let me just go to the can.

I walk into the bathroom, pick up the case and stuff it in my back pocket. The tableau in my bedroom remains in place. I stand at the foot of the stairs.

– Don't worry, Mr. Predo, I'll take care of what we were talking about. Get it to someone who can handle the responsibility like you suggested. And you look after my friend. OK?

He doesn't say anything.

– OK, Mr. Predo?

He nods, begins stripping the gloves from his hands.

– Yes, I suppose that will have to do.

– Yeah, I suppose it will.

Halfway up the stairs I get hit with a last piece. I pause and look back down.

– I took care of business, didn't I, Mr. Predo? Did that job you wanted done?