"Feel up to it?"

"Sure, you know me." She tapped her chest. "Heart of stone."

"Yeah." He tapped her on the forehead. "Head to match."

"Oddly enough, you're not the first to point that out."

"I could use a drink," he said. "Just as small shot of whiskey. Don't look so shocked. Excuse me, but I never saw a corpse before. It made all my body hair stand on end. Is that why you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Forget it. You don't have a drinking problem, and even if you did it wouldn't be connected to your high-stress career-driven lifestyle."

Glenn smiled. "I keep my hooch under the sink with the drain cleaner. Help yourself. Personally, I like the idea of hot chocolate. I think I need a sugar fix."

"You are a gastronomic nightmare."

"I'm my own worst enemy."

"That remains to be seen." Geoff looked at the loot on coffee table.

"I'm gonna get into my work clothes. Would you mind putting the kettle on?"

"You want marshmallows with that?" Geoff asked.

"What do you think?"

Glenn returned wearing loose-fitting jeans and a pink and black checked flannel shirt open over a black tanktop. A pair of pink socks slouched around her ankles.

"Here's my idea," she called, rummaging through her medicine chest. "We label everything."

She came out of the bathroom with adhesive tape, and a sharpie. She put the end of the marker between her teeth, and bit off the cap. Then, she handed it to Geoff, and dug up the kitchen shears. She watched a few seconds of each video, ejected it, put on a piece of tape, handed it to Geoff, and said, 'bath vanity', or 'bedroom', until all were labeled.

"Explain to me again. Why are we doing this?" Geoff asked.

"Because," she said, straightening the stack. "We need help getting through these. We'll keep the audio tapes, and take the videos to Shane. I've got a plan."

"Is it a good one?"

"You tell me."

Glenn used her fax to send a message to Shane. Geoff frowned as he read it.

"Why do you want him to order groceries from the corner store?"

"So they won't be suspicious when we show up." She got a brown bag from under the sink, and popped it open. "You ready?"

Geoff loaded the cassettes into the paper bag while she scribbled a note to Shane. "I guess so." Geoff shrugged into his jacket. "After all, weare the sports car."

Glenn laced up her high tops and placed a box of Fruit Loops on top of the brown bag where they would be visible. They moved quickly, afraid if they didn't, they'd lose their nerve. If they'd have been a few seconds slower they would have heard the ee-eep of the fax machine, and read Shane's warning. 'Scanello's closed for midnight Mass. Plan B?'

The way Geoff drove, it only took 15 minutes to get to Bethesda.

"Stop here," Glenn said. "His house is on the next block."

Geoff steered into a spot that said 'No parking here to corner'. "See anything?"

Glenn raised the camera, and telescoped down both sides of the block. "They could be anywhere. You sure you want to do this?"

"Actually, it's kind of fun."

"If you say so. All you do is ring the bell," she said.

"I know what to do. When someone comes to the door, I make sure it's Shane, and then give him the 'groceries'."

"But, if it's not Shane?" she asked.

"I pull the plug."

"Put the baseball cap on, and shove your hair up under it. Looks good. Orioles, huh?"

"Yep, gotta love dem O's."

"Pull it down as far as you can. Better put the bill in the back. Oh, the note."

"Jeez, what a nag. What do I look like?"

Glenn eyed him. "Actually, like a delivery boy." She took a deep breath. "Just remember, don't give the note to anybody but Shane."

Geoff looked at her for a moment, then reached up, and pointed to the side of his face. "Right here. For luck."

"What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, give me a smooch, right here. I'm about to go into battle for you. The least you can do is give me a kiss for luck. That's not asking too much. Now, plant it right here."

"Battle? For me?"

"For all we know I could go out there, and get shot down like a dog in the street. It's a time-honored tradition for his lady fair to give her errant knight a kiss for luck. I'm not making this up. You can check it out for yourself in the history books."

"If I thought there was any chance of you being in any real danger I wouldn't let you do this. Besides, I'm not real big on tradition, in case you hadn't noticed."

"That's right, you're into that whole role-reversal gig, aren't you? Okay, have it your way. You don't have to kiss me. I'll kiss you."

He moved quickly, scooping her head in his hand, and pressing his lips to hers. After a second, he pulled back a little, then tilted his head, and kissed her more softly. He changed positions again, and melted her resistance with a long, slow, intimate kiss.

"There," he said, opening his eyes. "Now, I feel lucky."

"I'm so glad. Anything else I can do for you while you've got me here?"

"Nope, I think that'll do it for now. Oh, maybe one other thing, now that you mention it." He massaged the back of her neck with his hand. "It's also supposed to be good luck to rub the head of a bald chick."

"Shut up. I am not bald, you freak show."

"Come on, you know you want it." He buffed the top of her head with his knuckles.

She seized his hand. "You want luck? You'll be lucky to get out of this car alive if you don't knock it off."

"Hey, I don't make up the rules, I just try to enforce them." He took the shopping bag from her, and opened the car door. "Don't go away, wild thing. I'll be right back, and we can pick up where we left off."

Before Glenn could say anything else, he sprang out of the car. She watched through her lens as Geoff strolled down the sidewalk. When he got to the townhouse he stopped, and glanced down the street. Then, he climbed the steps, and pushed the buzzer. The townhouse door opened. Glenn stuck her foot out on the curb, adjusted the camera, and steadied her elbows on the car door. A man in a red and green sweater stepped onto the porch. Something was wrong. She left the car for a better look.

Geoff glanced in her direction, then said something to Shane. Shane looked toward Glenn, who was advancing. He pushed Geoff away, stepped back into the house, and slammed the door. Geoff stood for a moment hugging the shopping bag, then ran down the steps. Two men came out of the darkness. One was directly across the street. The other was moving across the road to the right. Geoff made it to the bottom step, and saw Glenn coming toward them.

"Go! Run!" he yelled.

She stopped, and lifted the camera to her eye-a small, over-coated woman with a camera where her face ought to be.

"Hold it, buddy." The man reached the curb, and stood with an arm extended like a traffic cop.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Geoff asked.

"I just want to ask a couple of questions. Come along quietly, and nobody has to get hurt."

Geoff took two steps away. Whatever he did, it had to be now, and it had to be fast. He might only get one chance. Concentrating on the man in front of him, he dropped the bag to the pavement, and found his balance. Glenn's voice cut through the air.

"It's him!"

The large man lifted his arms like a linebacker, and rushed forward. It was one of the men from Union Station. Geoff lashed out with agility, and fierceness. His knee came up, and he executed a textbook front kick, finding the man's solar plexus. Without putting his foot down he positioned for a thrusting backward kick. But, the man on the right made a small maneuver, and avoided most of the force of his heel. He took Geoff's right arm with him as he twisted away, grabbing the elbow, and forcing it behind his back. Geoff turned into it, raised his left arm, and back-fisted him in the nose. There was a muffled crunch, and a grunt, and the man covered his face with both hands. Geoff snagged the paper sack with one hand, and sprinted.

"Get to the car!" he yelled, waving Glenn back.

There was a flap of her coat tails, and she was on her way. A few steps later a wall took shape, and stepped out of the shadows.

"Got you," he said.

Glenn saw his face, and felt iron fingers manacle her neck. Her scream became a gurgle, and then it strangled in her throat.

11.

A man leaped from a parked car. He had something in his hand, some kind of club that he raised. Geoff lifted his arms over his head in an X. He absorbed the blow, rotated his inside hand, grabbed the man's wrist, and pulled. As the arm straightened Geoff pulled back, preparing to break it above the elbow. But, the attacker threw a left cross with his free hand, and it glanced across Geoff's cheekbone. The club went up again, and Geoff's only defense was to shield his head. He watched as the billy club hammered his arm. The pain was excruciating, and the bitter taste of bile filled his mouth.

Geoff dropped to one knee, cradling his injured arm. The nausea was dizzying, but he tried to ignore it, and watch for an opening. The nightstick went up, and the assailant's right side was suddenly exposed. Geoff saw it as if in a spotlight, as if it were introduced by a phantom announcer,Ladies and Gentlemen, The Ribcage . Geoff gritted his teeth, and kicked upward. His foot made contact. He felt the chest collapse, and heard the ribs snap, like twigs under a carpet of leaves. The club clattered to the sidewalk, and Geoff scooped it up.

Glenn was struggling with the other one, and Geoff went after him. The man let go of her, and lunged. There was the silvery flash. Geoff aimed for it with the nightstick. The knife swept past Geoff's midsection, tearing his shirt, and opening a slit in his side. He felt the sting as warm moisture wept through his skin. He clubbed the inside of the attacker's right knee as an after-thought, but it was ill-timed. Geoff spun around to face the knife again. He was still off balance.

His opponent sensed it. His lips curled into a half-smile, half-sneer as he made another lunge. From behind, there was an explosion of light, and the man flinched away. Geoff didn't have time to figure out what had happened. The billy club cut through the air, coming down like an ax above the man's thumb. The wrist splintered like a rotten branch. Geoff spun on his heel.

"Glenn?"

He heard Glenn's voice as if from a well.

"Come on. I've got the bag."

Blinded by headlights, Geoff held his uninjured arm over his eyes, and made for the voice. Glenn drove toward him, and he limped into the passenger seat. Then, she sped toward the interstate. Geoff leaned back, breathing hard, his arm throbbing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Glenn said. "Where am I going?"

Geoff looked at her clinging to the steering wheel with tight, white fingers, her eyes wide. He was reminded of a wounded bird he'd rescued once. The camera was still around her neck.

"Do we dare go to my place?" she asked. "What is going on anyway? What in the hell is going on?"

"Shane knew they were there."

"He would have warned me."

"He tried."

"No, I mean before we came out here. What a mess."

Geoff looked out the window. "Mezzarot road. Get on Mezzarot."

"What?"

"My dorm. They don't know about it. Christmas break. We won't run into anybody." Geoff pressed his shirt to his side. It was wet and cold, and the fabric was getting stiff. "I'm bleeding."

"You are? Did you get knifed? How bad?"

"Not bad," he said, and grinned. "Only a flesh wound."

"Another one of your lunatic moves."

"You're welcome," he said.

"I thought he missed you. I shot my flash, and I thought it stopped him."

"Huh? The light. I thought it was gunshot."

"I had to wait until he was facing me. I thought it was a pretty good idea."

"It was. He got me on the first pass." He groaned. "I can't believe it. I'm fighting for my life, forour lives, and you're taking pictures. Unbelievable."

"I wasn't. But, I should have. That is so unprofessional. A real photographer would have kept her wits about her. I don't belong in this business."