"Meaning if someone contracted you to kill Trujillo..."

"Anyone come up with the money for it, I'd take him out just as easy as the rest. Nothing personal, just business.

Since he's in the business, he knows that that's a possibility. So he's always paid me more. Call it insurance."

"How did Trujillo react to your refusal?"

"He wasn't happy, but I explained my reasons. He offered me a hell of a lot of money, but the deal smelled bad. I put that in his face, and said I wouldn't be able to do other work for him if I got caught. The forensic boys up here are pretty damn sharp. I might be able to get around them, but it isn't worth the risk for me to try. I never dirty my own back yard, that's one of my rules. Trujillo wasn't giving me much information, either, just that I was to wire up a house and set things off at a certain time, and that's all. That's what smelled to me. He's always got more information than a library on who he wants out of the way, but not for this one. So I backed right off."

"Did you sense he might put a hit out on you for that?"

"No, it was just business as usual. He didn't press things. I'm more valuable to him for those out-of-country sanctions. I figured he'd find someone else with less smarts for the job, and it turned out I was right. Soon as I saw the news report I knew that was what he'd wanted me to do and why he'd been so cute about not giving details. There was some woman and a couple kids in there; he knew I'd never have gone for it."

"An assassin with principles?"

"Call me old-fashioned, but killing women and kids is just wrong." He leaned forward, tapping on the table with one finger, each tap emphasizing a word. "When you have a job on, you go in like a surgeon and take out that target.

Collateral damage, as they call it, is just being stupid." He sat back, face consumed with disgust.

"Then you severed relations with him."

"Business is run on trust, and he screwed up." Keyes made more pizza disappear. "Now you tell me someone went after you with a crossbow? No way would I do anything as damn-fool as that up here. The DEA is just looking for an excuse to turn me over and see what shakes out. I don't know why they're so anal; I'm doing most of their work for them."

"I may have an explanation."

Swig of beer. "I'm listening."

"Trujillo wants us both out of the way. He set up a crossbow booby trap to take me out. The idea being when my body's found the DEA traces the weapon to you. A very neat copycat frame to enrich your life."

"But it missed, so you come looking for me. Either way, one or both of us is taken out of the picture, and Trujillo gets a good laugh. Most neat. But how did you even know about me?"

"Computer search."

He grimaced. "Damn things. I'll have to retire before they lead to my downfall-unless that's already happened?"

Richard gave no direct answer. He'd not yet made up his mind on what to do with the man. "Your name and Anton's came up in connection with Trujillo. You were on my short list of people to interview in order to get to him."

"Why are you interested in him?"

"The house explosion. It's personal."

"How so?"

Richard frowned. "The woman was a good friend of mine. Her little girls were my goddaughters."

Keyes put his beer bottle down. "I'm sorry to hear that. Was he after you through them?"

"No. The woman's husband is Trujillo's brother, Luis. The one who turned evidence on him. Their deaths had to do with punishment, revenge, and to make an example to others."

"I heard about that case. The brother dropped out of sight a few years back."

"Yes. I'm the one who disappeared them all."

"Because of the woman?"

"And the children. But Alejandro found them. You saw what he did. Now I wish to find him."

"I don't fault you for that. Not much you can do until Nick returns my call, though."

"Then we'll wait." Richard's cell phone trilled. "Excuse me."

"It's me," said Dr. Sam.

"What news?"

"I couldn't find them."

"Damn," he muttered. "What's happened?" "I don't know. Helen and I drove to the hotel and talked to everyone from the manager to the maids. A few people remembered seeing a man and little boy, but not where they went. I was very insistent about the need to find Michael, described them both a hundred times over, had the clerks check the guest roster twice, even called a couple of likely prospects in their rooms. Nothing. Then Helen and I split up and went to search the Galleria Mall and got the security people there alerted for them. When that didn't work I phoned the cab company again and asked if they had any pickup fares from the mall or the hotel. They had their dispatch talk to all the drivers. Nothing again. That's when I started calling the other cab companies. Helen's still in the manager's office working on it, but it's probably hopeless.

Luis and Michael just walked in and disappeared."

"You were very thorough, Sam, not your fault." In fact, he'd been outstandingly thorough.

"Maybe he got a bus or hitchhiked..."

"Sam, it's all right. Some things can't be helped. When I've dealt with details at this end, I'll see what I can do.

Chances are he will shortly contact that other friend of mine for help and we can sort it out then." Even with Keyes hypnotically persuaded to being an ally, Richard had no desire to mention Bourland's name in front of him.

"I hope so," Sam said unhappily.

"Perhaps you'd best go ahead and phone him first; let him know what's going on so he doesn't have to take news of my untimely death seriously. I've told him who you are."

Sam seemed to brighten. "Okay, I'll get on that."

"Good man." He rang off and hoped Sam talked to Bourland before Luis did. The man did not need news of anyone else's death unless it was Alejandro's.

"Where's that crossbow?" said Keyes, who had finished his beer and pizza during the interval. "I'd like to go see it."

Richard shifted mental gears. "No need. I brought it with me."

One eyebrow quirked. "May I ask why?"

"I had an idea about using it on you. Poetic justice."

Keyes looked at him awhile, lips thin, then slowly nodded. "Fair enough. I'm glad you decided to talk first."

"I'll go fetch it."

When he returned from the car, outre weapon in hand, Keyes had cleared away the TV table and was stowing the pizza box in the fridge. Two more cats appeared; they were white and black like Mr. Monster, but with longer fur. One of them yowed a plaintive question.

"Oh, shut up, Spot. Your food's right there." Keyes pointed to a bank of filled food bowls in one corner, and shoved the complaining cat in their general direction with his foot. The other, he swooped on and picked up. It also yowed.

"Aw, Le Feline Nikita, wanna make funny noises? Let's make funny noises, babyness." He held the animal upside down, hand over its face, and indeed produced some strange squeakings from the creature.

"Le Feline Nikita?" Richard asked doubtfully.

"From my favorite movie. That little chickadee was most doable. She's the reason why I learned French."

"What about that TV show?"

"Now she is most tasty. Extremely doable." He glanced at the crossbow Richard had in hand.

"Look familiar?" Richard watched the upside-down squeaking cat furiously batting at Keyes, who paid it scant attention.

"Nope. That's a commercial model-a good one-I wouldn't mind having it, but I could never use it in my work. I build my own."

"You build your own?"

"Yeah, lemme show you. You'll appreciate this." He discarded the outraged cat, who landed on all fours, shook itself, and began to clean as though nothing amiss had occurred. "Short attention span. I dated a girl like that once.

Good weekend, lousy week. C'mon this way."

Keyes had a very small house, three small bedrooms, one bath, minimal furnishings, all in keeping with his character of living on modest investments. The forces of officialdom would have a difficult time finding fault with him. "Where do you keep your real money?" Richard asked.

"Some place real safe. You wondering why I live like this when I could do better?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"I like the neighborhood. I have what I need, which is a place where I can just come in and relax. Besides, it'd be a hell of a job trying to transplant this."

He went into a bedroom no more than nine by ten feet in size. It held only a chair, work desk with a computer, and two filled bookshelves. An eight-foot-wide closet with sliding mirrored doors covered the length of one wall: big storage space in compensation for the claustrophobic dimensions. He slid one four-foot-wide door aside to reveal a rack holding some plastic-wrapped suits, which he also pushed out of the way. On the floor were a couple of suitcases he pulled out. He activated some hidden mechanism behind the door jamb and a section of the closet floor popped like the hood of a car. He pulled it up.

"Interesting," said Richard, looking down into darkness.

Keyes hit a light switch just inside the cavity. The sides were composed of the house's cement foundation for a foot or so, then opened up. "C'mon." He made use of a metal ladder, quickly descending.

Richard followed, looking around, fascinated. He stood in a very efficient low-ceilinged workroom, not much more than ten by ten, but well-lit and fitted with a woodworking bench and plenty of outlets for the power tools hanging from the pegboard walls. The air was fresh, courtesy of fan-powered vents.

"You did all this yourself?"

"Yup. About ten years back I started. Took me awhile to chip through the foundation, then start hauling out dirt and limestone. For a year or so this place looked like something out of The Great Escape. I filled up dips and holes in the lawn with the extra dirt, used the rocks to decorate the backyard and build a barbeque. I tell you, doing it one bucket at a time sucks, but when I realized that I was too far along to stop. Had to go to an acupuncturist to put my back right again, but it was worth it."

"Why go to such trouble?"

"Why not? I got a hidden retreat that no cop's ever going to find. Makes for one hell of a tornado shelter, too.

Couple of times me and the cats did a little duck and cover here. I hollowed out enough to give me the work space I needed, but not so much as to undermine the house. Poured in a second foundation down here, one cement bag at a time, running a waterhose from the bath tub-that was a mess. Put in those support braces to shore up the ceiling, then put in plywood walls and plastered them over so there wouldn't be any fresh earth smell coming into the house, and started hauling stuff down. I had to limit the size to things that would fit through the trap, brought the lumber down in pieces to make the bench and storage."

Keyes was clearly proud of his effort and accomplishment. This was likely the first time he'd ever had the chance to show it off.

"Very impressive," said Richard, and he was completely sincere. It was wonderful. He wanted one too.

"Thank you. None of this is going anywhere, least of all me. Not until I'm damned good and ready. If Trujillo thinks he's going to change that he's made one hell of a mistake."

"He's made several. Why are we here?"

"So I can show you what I build." Keyes then proceeded to give him a brief lecture on the construction of crossbows. He was quite the artist. He had several different sizes, all with various ranges and functions, all of them made to break apart into components. He took a number of small wooden pieces that seemed to have nothing to do with each other, and assembled them together with a small screwdriver. The only metal in it was a few brass screws. By the time he'd finished, a very wicked little weapon crouched on the workbench, only needing a string and a bolt to complete it. It was quite different from the large metal model Richard had brought in.

"I always use wood," Keyes explained. "The airport X-ray techs always see it as being part of my suitcase, so they don't make a fuss and pass me through. Once a job is done I take the bow apart and throw away the pieces."

"Hence the need to come down here and make more."

"Yeah, but it's a lot of trouble, takes time, and has become too much of a trademark pointing to me. Lately I've been thinking of switching over to blowguns for some jobs. Those are just hollow tubes, but you have to really practice to put the dart where you want it. Hey, check this out." He flicked on a closed circuit TV. It had four views, two covering the street, one the backyard, the last the front porch. "I can control the angle of the camera from here."

"Got a night vision adapter?" asked Richard, highly interested. He loved tech toys as much as the next man.

"Of course-and infrared backup."

He was starting to like the fellow in spite of himself. He'd had a bellyful of dealing with exotic assassins after his encounter with Charon some months back, but Keyes looked to be considerably more reasonable.

Keyes patted the set twice. "I got all the mod-cons. When I'm down here I don't want to be completely cut off from the world, so I ran in a phone line, cable radio. For some things I'm a gadget junkie. There's a lot of most bueno stuff out there, so I have to pick and choose-and what the hell have we here?" He tweaked one of the cameras onto a large car that had pulled parallel to Richard's rental, and zoomed in. "We got us a big-ass ol' Cadillac fulla drug muscle.

Looks like I was right about Trujillo coming after me, but I thought he'd send in just a couple of guys, not a fucking army."

"How many?"

"Five-two in front, three in back."

"That's hardly an army."

"Count the five in that other car and it is." He shifted the view to the cross street, where sat a second large car crowded with men.

"In a twisted way, it's almost flattering. What do you think they're carrying?"

"Probably full autos. Trujillo likes to pass out MP-5s like party favors, and his boys love to play macho man. This could get ugly fast-son of a bitch, look at that!" Keyes zoomed hard on the second car. One of the faces in the back seat was... Alejandro Trujillo. "We got some serious shit here if the big boss wants to catch the fun. Okay, that's it.

War is declared, but I'll be damned if I let those assholes shoot up my neighborhood."

Richard watched the car by the rental slowly cruise off. A moment later, the second car also moved out of camera range. "I think they're just checking things over first. They know you have a visitor, but are not aware it's me. As far as Alejandro is concerned, I'm dead. If I leave and make sure they see me, they'll follow."

"Not all of them. One of those cars will stick around to find out if you killed me."

"Then I suggest you get your Walther and prepare for them."

"No shit." Keyes went to a large wall cabinet. Inside, mounted on padded prongs hooked into more pegboard, was an assortment of firearms, enough to start and likely end a small revolution. On a shelf below were quantities of ammunition and cleaning supplies. Keyes caught the look Richard gave him. "Okay, so I was a little worried about the Millennium Bug. I had these on hand already. Pick out something."

"I've my revolver."