"What about him?" Doyle asked, jerking a thumb at Rome.

"I'll give you a thirty-second head start," Angel growled at the a.s.sociate. Rome said nothing, just nodded and slipped past the wind machine. Doyle and the Serpentene grabbed the three unconscious hostages and carried them out.

Angel took one last look around. The pickaxhe'd planted in Baasalt's head was lying in the rubble of the First Warrior-Priest's jeweled bones. Angel leaned over and picked it up-then tossed it into the lava pit. The wooden handle burst into flames as the steel head sank into the molten rock.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"Ican't believe it!" Cordelia exclaimed. "The office-it looks just the way it did before!"

"Yeah, they really did a bang-up job," Doyle said. He poured himself a cup of coffee. "Only took 'em a few days, too-"

"It's terrible! Angel, tell him it's terrible."

Angel looked up from the book he was reading. "It's . . . exactly the same," he said.

"Right! And what's the point in that? We could have had a brand-new office, with actual decor!

This-this is likeanti-decor. If this office and a real office met, there would be an explosion."

Angel put down his book and got to his feet. "I like the decor, anti or not. I asked Galvin to put it back just the way it was."

Cordelia sighed and threw her hands in the air."Why am I even bothering? I'm talking to the man who gives fashion tips to ninjas."

Doyle chuckled. "C'mon, Cordy. How can you be annoyed after depositing the bonus check the Serpentene gave us?"

Cordy frowned. "What bonus check?"

"Just remembered an important appointment," Angel said hastily. "Demons. Nasty. Gotta go."

Cordelia cut him off before he could reach the door. "Angel?" she said warningly. "Whatbonus check?"

"The . . . bonus check I haven't given you yet?"

"From the Serpentene? Why not? Are you afraid I'm going to run off to Acapulco or something?"

Angel looked uncomfortable. "Of course not. I'm just not satisfied that the case has been completely resolved."

"What he means," Doyle said, gesturing with his coffee cup, "is that we still don't know why Wolfram and Hart wanted the Serpentene's property, and Galvin never even brought it up. Nice of him to save Angel's bacon and all, but there's still somethin' screwy goin' on."

"Exactly," Angel said. "And until I know exactly what that is, I can't cash this check. Sorry."

"All right, all right," Cordelia said. "Can I just . . . look at it? Please?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Angel said, shaking his head.

"That much, huh?" Cordelia said sadly. "Oh, well. At least we still have our honor, yadda yadda yadda."

"It's more than some people have," Angel said.

a.s.sociate Rome sat in his office, in the dark, and waited for the end.

He had failed. Not only was the vampire still alive-or at least undead-but the Tremblors had been destroyed. His leverage with the Serpentene was gone.

The senior partners did not approve of failure.

He considered options. While he could no longer snap up the Serpentene property for a song, it was possible they still might deal with him-as long as they didn't realize the true value of what they sat on. It would just take more money . . .

He picked up his phone, and placed a call.

"One thing I still don't get," Cordelia said. "Wolfram and Hart were helping the Tremblors, and the Tremblors were going to cause this huge earthquake that would destroy L.A., which is where Wolfram and Hart have their big shiny office tower headquarters. Why would they do that?"

Lisbon rose up in Angel's mind once more; the fires, the looting, the rats. Him and Darla, playing in the ruins . . . "Any huge natural disaster attractsscavengers," Angel said. "Opportunists who prey on the victims. Black marketeers, real estate speculators-even thrill-seekers. There are a hundred different ways to profit from large-scale human suffering, and I'm sure Wolfram and Hart knows them all. If the quake had happened, I'm betting the W & H tower would have been one of the few buildings left standing."

"Which still doesn't answer what they wanted the Serpentene's property for," Doyle said.

"Actually, I've had some ideas of my own about that," Angel said.

"Oh?" Doyle said. "Like what?"

"I'd rather run them past Galvin first," Angel said. "As a matter of fact, I'm heading over there now. And Cordelia-if I'm wrong, we'll cash that check, I promise."

Angel shrugged on his trenchcoat as he headed out the door.

"Well, there goes the rent," Cordelia said. She picked up a watering can and started watering the office plants.

"Maybe not," Doyle said. "He did say he might be wrong-"

"He's not wrong," Cordelia said. "He's Angel. I'm still amazed you figured out that whole Tremblorwind thing before he did."

"Well, he was kinda busy being held captive inthe bowels of the Earth," Doyle said. "But give me alittle credit, w.i.l.l.ya?"

"Why?"

"Why? Well, I did sorta save the day, right?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Doyle,please. Galvin supplied the equipment, the Serpentene did most of the work and Angel did the fighting. All you did was make a lucky guess."

"Not true. I figured it out honestly."

"How?"

"Well, it was our prisoner that clued me in. When Angel was threatenin' to expose him t'the big blue sky, the Tremblor coulda just closed his eyes, but he was still terrified. That's because any little breeze would have turned him into a dust cloud. T'them, the Void wasn't just empty s.p.a.ce-it was s.p.a.ce filled with an invisible, untouchable enemy."

"That's obvious, now, Doyle, but this could all be twentytwenty hindsight. I was there, remember? You just thought they were dumb."

"Okay, okay, it didn't click all at once, but I'll tell you the kicker. Vampires and running water."

"You were inspired while using Angel's bathroom?"

"No, no. It's one of those myths about vamps that gets Angel so hacked off. That's probably the reason he didn't figure it out first; he's got a mental block when it comes t'these things. Anyway, people used t'say that a vampire couldn't cross running water, or even that falling into running water would destroy them. It was one small leap from vamps and movin' water to demons and movin' air."

"So your reasoning was based on something that wasn't true."

"Well, there was a certain element o' speculation-"

"Like I said. You guessed."

Doyle shrugged and changed the subject. "So, how are you and Maureen gettin' on? Still best buds?"

Cordelia put down the watering can. "Actually, I haven't heard from her since the whole rescue thing. I think she's pretty busy, what with her place getting trashed and all."

"Sure."

Cordelia frowned. "What, you don't think she'll want to hang with me now that the case has been solved?"

"Guess we'll see. But don't worry, Cordy, you can always hang with me."

"That's sweet, Doyle, but a day at the racetrack is not my idea of a good time."

Doyle did his best to look hurt. "Racetrack? Is that the only place you think I'm familiar with?"

"Of course not. I'm sure you could give me an extensive tour of topless bars, too."

"How about the Griffith Observatory?"

"What?"

"The Griffith Observatory. Big white building on a hill with a telescope sticking out of the roof."

"I know what the Griffith Observatory is, Doyle. I just never figuredyouwould."

"It's kinda interestin', actually. I know you haven't been in L.A. all that long, and you probably haven't seen it yet. If you ever want to check it out, let me know. I'll play tour guide."

Cordelia studied him for a moment, then smiled. "Well, I was never into the whole science thing, but I do hear they use it for location shoots a lot. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Doyle smiled back, then got himself another cup of coffee so she wouldn't see the smile turn into a grin.

"Good to see you again, Angel," Galvin said, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked through the door. "Satisfied with the repairs, I hope?"

"They're fine," Angel said.

He followed Galvin into the living room and sat down. Galvin's expensive furnishings had been replaced by cheap knockoffs; the tunnel entrance had been boarded over with plywood.

"I see you haven't renovated yet," Angel said.

"No. I decided to use this as an excuse to redecorate, and I haven't quite decided on a theme yet."

"How about 'Deception'?"

Galvin looked at Angel for a second, his smile frozen on his face. "Pardon me?"

"Or maybe that isn't quite accurate," Angel continued. "How about 'Manipulation'? Or even good old-fashioned 'Greed'?"

"I don't understand."

"Sure you do. Does the name Rudolpho Faranetti ring a bell?"

"Ah. Icepick Rudy. I see you've been doing some checking around." Galvin nodded his head.

"That I have. What I found out was that Faranetti got into a lot of trouble with his employers- seemed he'd leaked certain secrets he shouldn't have. Thing was, he didn't leak them to the police; he leaked them to you."

"I suppose it would be pointless to deny it," Galvin said. He strolled over to a cheap wooden cabinet and opened it up, revealing a bar. "Care for a drink?"

"No thanks. I don't think I like the prices you charge."

"We charge whatever the market will bear. Isn't that the idea behind capitalism? We offered Mr.

Faranetti something he very much wanted, and we asked for something equally valuable in return. He could have said no."

"And you used the information to blackmail the Corzato crime family. What do they give you, ten percent of whatever they make?"

"It's more in the nature of a flat fee in their case-their accounting is atrocious." Galvin poured a shot of brandy into a gla.s.s. "But it's hardly exorbitant."

"Because, of course, they're not the first-or only-people you extort," Angel said. "You've got a room full of people's dreams, all neatly labeled."

Galvin chuckled and sat down across from Angel. "You have been thorough; I should have expected that. Yes, the Serpentene have a talent for discovering those things that mean the most to people, things now lost-or even things that were never more than dreams in the first place. A picture of a parent you never got to meet. A stuffed toy that kept you sane through a childhood of abuse. Even a movie never filmed, a book never written: we have an excellent print ofThe Wizard of Ozstarring Orson Welles as the Cowardly Lion."

"I'm sure it's fascinating-but hardly worth selling your soul for."

Galvin laughed. "Quite right! And we don't deal in souls, Angel-we're not that kind of demon. We're more niche marketers."

"You deal in secrets."

"Precisely. We give people what they want, in return for sensitive information: stock tips, investment opportunities-"

"Blackmail information."

"We prefer to think of it as preferential negotiation." Galvin took a sip of his brandy. "We're just doing what snakes do naturally, Angel; once we're wrapped around someone . . . wesqueeze."

Angel shook his head. "How do you do it? Where do you get this stuff?"

"Alternate realities. I won't divulge details about how we obtain the items, but suffice it to say that for every reality where a treasured item was lost, there is another where it wasn't."