"Ready to talk now?" He held out his hand, flat and open. Another Cept rested in the middle of his palm.

She took it, crunched it, washed it down. "Depends on what you want to talk about."

"What you suppose I want to talk about?"

"You think you have a ghost?"

His thin lips stretched into a smile. "Not bad, tulip, not bad. Tougher than you look."

"Why do you keep calling me tulip?"

"Ain't that the tattoo?"

"No, these are-you a.s.shole."

She did have a tulip tattoo. Low on her stomach, just above the juncture of thigh and groin. Which her pants covered.

He shrugged. "Some dames hide weapons, aye?"

"So you had to strip-search me to make sure I wasn't?"

"I don't strip you, nay. Not me. Not the men. My sister Blue, she done the job."

Somehow she couldn't bring herself to thank him.

The knock at the door startled her. Lex turned. "Aye?"

"Seven."

"Right." He looked back at her. "Hungry?"

"What?" The shakes were only just starting to fade, how could she be hungry?

"I gotta be somewhere, have a talk to someone. Jarkman show you the bathroom, got a good strong waterfall. Then we talk."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on? Those goons kidnapped me and threw me in here, then you show up and taunt me, now you want me to have a nice hot shower and some food? Are you insane? Seriously."

He shrugged. "Don't suppose so, nay. You stay here if you like it. But you don't leave this house until we talk. Your choice."

Chapter Eight.

"Crimes of morality are a betrayal of yourself, your family, and the Church. And because of this, betrayal itself is the most serious of moral crimes."

-The Book of Truth, Laws, Article 75 The shower was good, she had to admit. By the time she got out she felt almost normal again.

Obviously they hadn't brought her here to kill her, unless this was part of some ritual she didn't understand. But why they would want to talk to her-what possible reason Slobag or any of his men would have for bringing her here-she had no idea.

The Asians hated the Church and anything or anyone who worked for it, as a rule. Since so much of their old religions were based on venerating the spirits of their ancestors-despite the fact that those same ancestors rose from the grave and killed them, just as they had everywhere else in the world-she couldn't really blame them, but it did mean that when she emerged from the bathroom and put her clothes back on, her hands shook a little. The clothes weren't clean, but it was better than not having showered at all.

The room adjoining the bathroom was undecorated, almost ware house like in its barrenness. A small, hard bed hugged one wall, covered with a plain blue blanket. A cold TV sat on the floor opposite. Its blank screen watched her like an unblinking eye as she crossed to the window and looked out at the city. She'd never spent much time down here, so close to where Downside gave way to the Metro District. Farther beyond that the suburbs glinted like fool's gold as the hills rose to the misty darkening sky.

She a.s.sumed it was Sunday evening-Jarkman had said "Seven" through the door, and it clearly wasn't getting any lighter. Which meant she'd missed going out to Chester with Terrible that afternoon, which was not good. He'd be looking for her. All of b.u.mp's men would be looking for her. Being found here would probably be the last thing she ever did.

Chess didn't have any specific loyalty to b.u.mp aside from his dominance in her neighborhood, at least not when it came to buying her drugs. But given the investigations she'd just been extorted into doing for him, the inside information she now had about his plans-no, being found with Slobag's men could definitely be hazardous to her health.

Something clicked behind her. She turned to see Lex framed by the doorway.

"C'mon. I got food."

Not the most delightful invitation she'd ever received, but her stomach didn't care. Had she eaten the day before? Probably not, with all that speed. No wonder she'd slept for so long.

She followed him down a blank gray hallway, their feet echoing on the dark wood floor planks. As they moved farther down the hall the doors they pa.s.sed grew more ornate, heavy red wood carved with dragons and paG.o.das. The contrast between them and the bare walls made Chess wonder what was hiding in those rooms.

Finally the hall ended in a large, wide room. Gold dragons and tigers fought in murals along the entire length of the walls, and the furniture was carved the same as the doors had been. It was like stepping into an elaborate set for a martial arts film, but at least it wasn't in quite as bad taste as b.u.mp's place had been. Whatever genitalia the ill.u.s.trated beasts possessed was mercifully hidden.

Lex gestured to a long polished table. "Sit you down, tulip. Got food for you. No poison there, neither."

"Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "I'm hungry. Not polite to eat in fronts of people, aye?"

"So why not just say what you need to say and then eat when I leave?"

"You gonna sit? Only I'm tired of standing here."

She sat. Up close she could see the fine grains in the table. It looked like real wood, a solid slab of it. She didn't think she'd ever seen a piece of wood so large.

They sat in silence while an elderly man brought in a tray and placed two white china bowls in front of them, along with accompanying silverware. Beggar soup-that favorite dish of the Downside-but an especially elegant version loaded with meatb.a.l.l.s and chicken and herbs. She could never afford to have both meats. Of course, she spent most of her money on other things. Most Debunkers lived much better than Chess did. Life was all about trade-offs.

"So. Why don't we start talking now, aye?" he said, after she'd inhaled about half her bowlful. Hungrier than she'd thought, and free food was free food.

She stiffened in her seat. "Talk about what?"

"I guess you know what."

"Um ... no."

"Hmm." He leaned back, lit a cigarette, handed it to her and lit another one for himself. "I been thinking we talk about airports, tulip. How you like that topic?"

"My name isn't tulip, you know."

"I know."

"So is there some reason you keep calling me that?"

"Maybe them tats interest me. Maybe one day you show me." He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow while smoke wreathed his spiky head.

"Maybe one day the Grand Elder will walk naked down the street."

"Maybe he will, no telling. Or maybe one day b.u.mp gonna reopen Chester Airport, what you say?"

She sucked in a long drag of fragrant smoke. Not her usual brand, but nice. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Not what I hear."

"Maybe you heard wrong."

"Or maybe you lie to me, Cesaria. Only thing is, I can't figure out why anyone lie for a strut-speech like b.u.mp. You got any ideas on that?"

"I don't lie for anybody." The filtered tip of the cigarette was tan, with little flecks of gold. They sparkled faintly when she turned it in her fingers.

"Seems to me you lie every day. Less you been telling them at your church what you do on your off-hours, right. They know you into b.u.mp fifteen grand? They know why?"

When she didn't answer, he continued. "I know you lying to me now, and I know you was out at Chester Friday night. I even know why you lie, causin you don't want Terrible down on you like a load of steel. But you ain't hiding anything from me I don't know. And that's just fine. Got a deal for you, tulip. A deal you like right."

If b.u.mp found out she'd discussed his airport plans with one of Slobag's men, he'd ... he might even have her killed. Even the spiritual dispensation offered by the Church wouldn't protect her.

Then again, if she didn't hear Lex out and agree to his deal, he'd probably tell b.u.mp she'd come here offering information. What did he care? One dead Debunker wouldn't exactly bother him.

"I'll listen," she said. "I'm not confirming anything about the airport, but I'll listen."

"Good. That's real good." He leaned forward and lit another cigarette. "So check the tale, tulip. b.u.mp's got you down there, disproving them ghosts, aye? Only maybe we don't want them ghosts disproved. We sure don't want them banished or exiled or whatever it is you people do. I gotta tell you why?"

She shook her head. b.u.mp being able to fly his drugs into his own private airport wouldn't be very good for Slobag.

"So that's where you come in. You tell b.u.mp there's ghosts in that airport, real vicious ghosts ain't gonna go anywhere."

"He'll expect me to Banish-"

"But maybe you can't."

"But I can. I mean, it's what I do for a living."

He shrugged. "You figure something out. I got belief, me. But b.u.mp don't open Chester. Big trouble for you if he does."

The smell of the stew started to cloy. She pushed the bowl away. "And if he doesn't?"

"Ah, good girl. If he don't, we got specials for you. How much you pay b.u.mp? Them pills don't come cheap, aye? You visit the pipes, ain't cheap. You do what we wants, you pay less. Like, nothing. b.u.mp wants his money, we pays it. Then you come to us for what you need. All taken care of, tulip. Just for you. Brought to your door."

Free drugs.

She could actually hold on to money for the first time in three years. Get a new car, maybe, with her next bonus, instead of using them to pay b.u.mp her arrears. New clothes. Real hot food more than once or twice a week instead of snacks and junk.

Of course, b.u.mp would notice if she stopped buying from him. Maybe she wouldn't stop, not entirely. b.u.mp's pipes were a h.e.l.l of a lot more convenient to her apartment. But making him think she was cutting back ... Maybe that wasn't a bad idea at all.

She must be insane, to be even contemplating this. The thing to do was go to b.u.mp, tell him what just happened here, and let him handle it.

How? By taking out Slobag's entire tribe? That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. And if she told, and Lex or any of Slobag's men found out about it ... Her life would be even more worthless than it was now.

s.h.i.t.

Lex watched her expectantly, his rangy body splayed back in his chair. A ragged hole in his Stiff Little Fingers T-shirt exposed a slice of tawny skin on his chest.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"Aye, you do that, tulip. You think hard. And when you decide, you let me know." He dug a sc.r.a.p of paper from his back pocket and produced a pen from his boot. "This my number. Private number, dig? Call me when you know what you wanna do. Or if you decide you wanna let me see that ink, aye?"

"That's not going to happen." She took the number, folded it, tucked it in her pocket.

"You'd be surprised, tulip, what happens when you not expecting it. Surprised, indeed."

"I'm not sure I want to go in there."

"Safest way home, tulip. Lessin you want me to walk you down the middle of the streets. Only it's hard to keep secrets, aye, when everybody seeing you."

"But it's a tunnel."

"I do know what it is."

Her skin crawled just looking at the narrow opening. Pale greenish light glowed from farther down the path, but whether it was safety bulbs or phosph.o.r.escent mold she didn't know, and didn't particularly care to find out.

"Didn't figure a Churchwitch to be a claustrophobe."

"I'm not!" Her voice squeaked. She cleared her throat. "I mean, I'm not. But being underground ... It's, um, a respect thing. The City is underground." Wasn't the entire truth, but close enough.

He nodded. "Right. I get you. Still don't have no choice, but I see the origin." His warm hand circled her upper arm. "Them walls got iron bands, no worries. Let's us go."

She let him lead her through the slender mouth and down a long flight of cement stairs that gritted and scuffed under their feet. The temperature dropped as they got farther down, the air thickening with rot and smoke and something else, the pungent scent of cooking Dream.

They'd gone only half a block or so when the source of the odor presented itself. The needle lay on the dank pavement, its owner draped against the wall with his eyes half closed. By his bent leg rested the rubber catheter, the dented and oxidized spoon.

Lex nudged the crumpled form with the toe of his boot. "Ain't supposed to be down here, Big Shog. You know these tunnels ain't for shooting."

Big Shog mumbled something and shifted position. His mouth hung open, dried spittle caked white in the corners. Chess looked away.

"What are these tunnels, anyway? I've never heard about them."

Lex gave Big Shog one last glance, then started walking again. "They been here years. Since BT. The Church blocked them off, don't want n.o.body sneaking around. You know."

"When did you open them back up?"