At the quiet intersection of two narrow streets, Strasser stopped and gestured toward Zanya's jeans.

"Let me have your phone," he said.

"What?"

"Give it to me."

"You've got your own."

"Just let me have it."

She stared at him, her eyes starting to get that look. He stared right back. She realized he had seen her taking that picture in the crowd back there. That must be it. Which was fine, come to think of it. He had some making up to do after that stunt with whatever her name was. Maybe he'd really wanted to do it with her, the orange hair.

She dug out her phone and handed it over.

Strasser worked his thumb and brought up the picture Zanya had taken of Kumi.

Showed it to her and asked, "What's this about?"

Zanya looked at the picture. "Something to remind me you owe me."

"Owe you what?"

"Your part of the deal."

"My part of the deal..."

He worked his thumb again and brought up the picture of Jevy that he'd seen earlier at Zanya's. Showed her that one and said, "So you can rip her like you were going to do this one?"

"Who says I was going to rip her?"

"You were out of control."

"I was hungry. Makes you edgy."

Strasser shook his head. Pressed Delete and the picture of Jevy vanished. Before Zanya could react he pressed again and wiped the picture of Kumi.

"The hell are you doing?" Zanya snapped.

"Plan C."

"What Plan C?"

"Trust me."

He handed the phone back. She gave him another one of her looks. He nudged her back into motion. With bad vibes coming off both of them, they continued along the dimly-lit street, voices low. Fractious.

Half a block behind, Boxboy followed, moving from shadow to shadow. He quickened his pace when the couple turned a corner, fell back when he saw them again.

He was just turning the corner when his phone bleeped. He whipped it out and stepped into a doorway. Checked the Caller ID and spoke low. "Wassup? I got somethin' goin' here."

The caller was a tall, slim black man named Slide who was looking down at an open crate of automatic pistols. "Wassup is we got a problem."

Boxboy kept his eye on Strasser and Zanya. "What problem?"

Slide frowned at the crate. "That delivery from Texas was a couple pieces short."

"You shittin' me?"

"I counted 'em. Twice."

The crate was on the floor of a waterfront storehouse Boxboy used for drops, the place a couple blocks over from where he was now.

He stepped out of the doorway and kept his voice low while he resumed his Strasser and Zanya tail. "How many missing?"

"Half-dozen," Slide said.

"Christ. You talk to anyone down there?"

"Not yet. I was waitin' to see how you wanna handle it."

Boxboy had met with the people from Texas when they came up here to pick up some outlets for the weapons they seemed to have good prices for – Glocks, AKs, Uzis... A nice tie-in with the immigrant trade he was helping to get a foothold here, the foreigners always looking for ordnance. How they put it to use wasn't his problem. Getting shorted on a delivery was.

He'd taken the Texans out for a couple nights on the town, got them screwed every whichway by that crossbreed Kumi and some of her choice friends. One of the cowboys tried some bad moves on one of the girls and Kumi had to step in, sent him home with his cojones hurting and a lesson on how to treat a good lay. Maybe that's what this shortchanging was about, some kind of jerkoff Texas getback. Never mind it sucked when it came to professional conduct. Better to find out now who he was dealing with than when there were more serious goods on the line.

He looked up the street and saw Strasser and Zanya disappear around another corner.

"Alright," he said to Slide on the phone, "I'll be over soon's I'm finished here."

He thumbed off the call and jogged up the street. Stopped at the corner and peered around it. Saw them mid-block passing by a boarded-up deli that had sold its last sandwich, acting like they were still having words.

Which they were, although things had somewhat settled down.

"It might not be your first choice," Strasser told her, "but there'll be others."

"So you say." Zanya not looking convinced. Or pleased.

"Hey, I'm trying. And you still haven't eaten."

A feral cat crossed the sidewalk in their path, giving them an arrogant look. When it saw the glare in Zanya's eyes it bristled and ran off hissing.

Strasser watched the cat and turned to Zanya. "You have great allure."

"Up yours."

Two more blocks and they were at the alley where they'd skirmished, where Zanya had had her bloodlust.

Boxboy watched from behind a Dumpster as they stepped out of sight, into the black alley between those two empty buildings. Like something worth something must be in there, or maybe some door leading to somewhere interesting. Or somebody was meeting them with some stash. Else why would they be going in there? He had a radar for these things.

When they didn't come back out, he stepped away from the Dumpster and went quietly over to where he saw them last. He knew he had a rep among his girls as being a wacko, some kind of monster, and he wouldn't argue with that. Not with this feeling he was getting now, that he always got in situations like this. It was the prospect of inflicting pain and it brought out his worst and he loved it.

He checked behind him, nobody in sight. Drew out his blade that he preferred to work with. It gave him the means for intimidation, never mind doing damage, and maybe he'd get some tang off that lady. He flicked it open and eased his head around the murky mouth of the alley.

Aaaggghhh!

Strong, clawed female hands shot out and grabbed him by the throat, yanking him into the blackness.

There were sounds of a scuffle, no passers-by to hear them.

Or to hear his piercing scream.

Or the wet ripping sounds and the silence that followed.

i