"Any particular reason you're in a hurry to die this morning?" Jake asked curiously.

"Hannah wants to get away from the man who reminds her of her husband." One of Archer's hands went to his key chain, where the cold weight of Len's odd ring clanged against keys. "I feel the same way. It's time to clean up the mess the past left and get on with our lives." He had walked away from her once before. He could do it again.

He had to be able to do it again.

"But-" Kyle began.

"No." Archer shoved to his feet with enough force to jolt the solid table. "I'm through talking. There's only going to be one life on the line, and that's mine. If you hear shots, call April Joy and tell her to bury the bodies where no one will find them."

When Kyle would have jumped to his feet, Jake clamped his hand over the other man's forearm. "Let it go, Kyle. You're not going to change his mind."

Kyle looked at his oldest brother, really looked at him, for the first time since Archer had dragged him out of bed and outlined his dangerous plan. Archer was controlled, deadly, balanced on a razor edge of adrenaline. Kyle had never seen his brother like this, even the night they pulled a commando raid on a modern pirate's private island.

"All right," Kyle said quietly. "We're with you, Archer. But I don't like it worth a d.a.m.n."

Lianne let out a silent breath of relief. Though the brothers loved each other, both were hardheaded and stubborn. So was Jake, for that matter, but he had a longer fuse than Kyle.

"If you don't like it," Archer said, "stay home the way I asked you to."

"No." Kyle's expression was as hard as his brother's.

"Tell us again about that alley door," Jake said. "Is the lock electronic?"

"Yes."

Kyle's smile was like an unsheathed blade. "No worries. If it's electronic, it's mine."

"Leave it alone unless I tell you otherwise," Archer said.

"You sure? I was looking forward to a spot of breaking and entering."

"Good thing you're on the side of the angels," his brother muttered. "You have the soul of a B and E man."

"Speaks the man who can make mechanical locks fall open faster than a s.e.x worker's thighs," Kyle retorted.

Lianne snickered.

"There aren't many mechanical locks left," Archer said. "The world is safe from me."

"Mechanicals, huh?" Jake said. "I always knew you were a retrograde SOB." He pulled the sketch of the Dragon Moon closer. "What about fire escapes, side doors, balconies, that sort of thing?"

"Fire escape in the alley, about here," Archer said, pointing with the same pencil he had used to make the sketch. "Interior balcony here, along the wall of the ground floor, and here, along the north side."

Jake frowned. "That sucks. No way you can sit up front with your back to the wall and still cover that rear balcony. This folding screen will block your view when you're sitting down. You need someone just inside, close to the front door."

"I'll have Kyle outside at the curb. Close enough."

Jake's jaw muscle flexed as he bit down hard on a sarcastic comment. There was no exterior gla.s.s in the Dragon Moon for Kyle to look through and warn Archer if someone was moving in on him from the balcony. The cafe was built like what it was: a gang headquarters. "How long has the triad used that building?"

"Ten years," Archer said. "Maybe fifteen."

"Then they've stripped the interior and rebuilt with all kinds of hidden pa.s.sages and escape hatches."

"That kind of thing is usually limited to the back rooms."

"Usually isn't good enough when you go in alone." Jake looked at Kyle. "How does your gut feel about this?"

Frowning, Kyle rubbed the back of his neck where the skin tingled as if his body was trying to lift a nonexistent ruff. Though n.o.body talked about it much, they respected Kyle's hunches. He certainly had learned to they had saved his life in Kaliningrad. "d.a.m.ned unhappy, but not dead panicked."

"That's what Honor said when I got up this morning," Jake muttered. "A pity you two couldn't have gotten something useful from your mother's Druid ancestors. Reliable precognition would have my vote."

Archer disagreed. Knowing what would happen wasn't any use when nothing could be done about the outcome. He was going in alone, period. He looked at his watch. "You've got twenty minutes to get there and take up your positions."

Without a word Jake slid from the breakfast nook and picked up the hip length Gore-Tex jacket he had laid carefully on the kitchen counter. Beneath it was a short-barreled pump shotgun.

"What's that?" Lianne asked, spotting the odd shape.

"A cane. The alleys are slippery."

"Jake's covering the back entrance," Kyle explained. What he didn't say was that Jake was going to cover it from the inside, as soon as Kyle got him in past the locks.

Lianne closed her eyes and wished it was two hours from now. Kyle kissed her gently, then less gently, before he grabbed his own jacket and followed Jake to the front of the condo.

The elevator opened. They stepped inside. The doors closed behind them. Jake tapped his throat, turning off the mike. Then he tapped Kyle's.

"f.u.c.k the alley door," Jake said. "He'll never make it that far. I'm going in the front. I'll sit between him and the most obvious source of danger. You're staying at the curb."

"Doing what?" Kyle shot back. "Playing with my d.i.c.k?"

"Whatever turns your crank." Jake pulled out the shotgun and hooked it into a simple shoulder sling. When he put on his jacket, sling and gun vanished. "Five minutes after I go in, bring the car around. If you hear shots, open the car doors. We'll be in a hurry."

"I don't like it."

"You like Archer's plan better?"

"I'll take the shotgun," Kyle said. "You drive the car."

"You ever worked crowd control before?"

"No, but-"

"I have," Jake cut in. "That's why I'm wearing Kevlar and you aren't."

Kyle opened his mouth, but no sensible argument came to him. "s.h.i.t."

"Yeah, that about covers it. Let's get the car ready."

"Why bother with it? The Dragon Moon is only three blocks away."

"If you're trading bullets, three blocks is a long way."

The elevators opened. The two men walked out into the garage. Their footsteps echoed. Without a word Jake knelt down and started uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the license plates on his car. When he was finished, he reached into the glove compartment and unrolled a piece of white paper that had big numbers on it and small print. It resembled the temporary registration that a new or used car carried instead of plates. With quick, almost angry motions, he taped the paper to the inside of the rear window.

"You carry that around all the time?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah."

"You're scary."

"Your brother's scary. I'm cautious." Jake pulled car keys from his pocket and threw them to Kyle. "Drive."

"Is that shotgun legal?" Kyle asked as he got behind the wheel of Jake's sport utility vehicle.

"Depends on how charitable the guy with the tape measure is feeling." Jake slammed the door. With quick, sure motions he pulled on surgical gloves.

Kyle didn't ask why. He knew. But he didn't know about the shotgun. "What's it loaded with? Birdshot?"

"Buckshot."

Kyle whistled musically. His gut was feeling better with every pa.s.sing second. "Buckshot. That stuff will go through interior walls like shrapnel."

"I'm counting on it. That's why you're staying out on the sidewalk. Honor would never forgive me if I shot her favorite brother."

Archer walked out of the condo and into the cold darkness. Against the streetlights, rain flared like tiny comets before arcing down into black oblivion. Dawn, when it finally came, would be a dreary affair. He flipped up his jacket hood. Not only did it keep rain off his face, it concealed his features. He couldn't have been more anonymous if he tried.

Since it was downtown, there were a few people moving about. A jail bondsman or a stockbroker leaned against a bus stop, talking fast into a cell phone. A woman darted out of one doorway and into a waiting cab. Other than that, the streets were left to the gentle army of raindrops. The panhandlers who hadn't headed south for warmer turf were still at the local flophouses or missions, soaking up coffee, gospel, and heat before heading out to beg quarters for that first pint of fortified wine.

Archer checked his watch, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in the number he hated to call. He didn't scramble the transmission, because he didn't think the government had the right decoder at their command. Yet.

April Joy must have told her aides to put through anything from Archer Donovan whenever it came in. He was only halfway to the Dragon Moon when she got on the phone.

"This better be good," she said.

"Is Qing Lu Yin one of yours?"

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"Did you twist him, or is he yours straight up?"

"Where are you?"

"If Yin is good for murder one, do you still want him?"

A half beat of hesitation, then she said, "Depends on who he did."

"My half brother."

Archer waited. He didn't have to wait long. April wasn't stupid or fainthearted.

"Yin's brother Ling sells us information from time to time, when it can be used against rival triads," she said, "but he isn't ours. Neither is Yin. Red Phoenix owns both of them body and soul. Don't trust Yin."

"Even if you told me he was yours, I wouldn't trust him. He's selling the kind of rainbow pearls men kill to own. Len's pearls."

April thought hard and fast. "What are you going to do?"

"Buy them. One way or another. Has Uncle decided which side of the pearl table you're on yet?"

Silence.

Archer hit the power b.u.t.ton on the phone and mentally ran his probabilities again. Knowing that Yin wasn't a U.S. government agent improved the odds of getting out clean.

Uncle made a bad enemy.

A block away from the Dragon Moon, Archer pulled on a pair of surgical gloves, then tugged at his jacket to keep it out of the way of the pistol at the small of his back. The front of the jacket sagged. A spare magazine for the pistol was in one pocket. Cash was in the other. The wad of money was bulkier than the extra ammunition and weighed a lot less.

When Archer was a few buildings down from the Dragon Moon, he punched in the number of the cell phone he had left behind on the kitchen table. This time he turned on the scrambler.

Lianne answered on the first ring. "Archer?"

"Right here. How's the reception?"

"Fine. Or four-by-four or whatever I'm supposed to say."

" 'Loud and clear' works. Stay close."

"I'd like to be closer," she retorted.

"I hear you loud and clear." Archer pocketed the phone and glanced again at his watch. Five fifty-seven. Time to go. He tapped the throat mike to turn it on. "I'm moving."

"One is in place," Kyle said.

"Ditto two," Jake said. "But I'm on the front."

"What?" Archer snarled.

"Kyle's gut liked it that way. So does mine."

Anger whipped beneath Archer's control, but control won easily. It was too late in the game to lose it. "Just keep that d.a.m.n street sweeper out of sight. You'd give the beat cop a heart attack if he saw that barrel poking out of your jacket."

"Roger."

Archer headed toward the Dragon Moon with the long strides of a wolf pursuing game.

"Who would call at this unG.o.dly hour?" Hannah asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Lianne started so severely that she nearly dropped the cell phone on the table. "Hannah! You're supposed to he asleep."

"My body still doesn't know which way is up," she said, yawning. "Four a.m. or high noon, all the same to me. What are you doing up? Are the twins restless?"