"Help! Help!" The croaking sound came from above and slightly behind them. "It's choking me!"

Darlene looked behind then to see Raoul struggling frantically with the mannequin, which had tied the orange scarf around his neck and was slowly and most a.s.suredly strangling him with it. Raoul grappled with the 'bot, trying desperately to break its grip. The little One, swarming up onto the counter, began pummeling the murderous mannequin with his hands and kicking at it with his feet.

The robot clenched the scarf tighter and tighter. Raoul was turning a most unbecoming shade of blue.

"That thing's strangling Raoul!" Darlene raised up, hoping to go to his aid. A lasgun blast nearly took off her head. She ducked back down. "I can't get to him!"

"Where are you? What's going on?" Quong's alarmed voice came over the comm.

"We've been ambushed," said Jamil. "Four of them! They've got us pinned down."

"Tycho and I will be there!" Quong promised. "We're on our way."

But they would never make it. Not in time.

"I'll draw their fire," Jamil said. "You help Raoul."

Darlene nodded.

Jamil jumped to his feet. Firing as he ran, he dashed across the aisle and dove for cover behind a counter featuring leather goods. Purses and handbags tumbled down on his head as the case blew apart. Lasgun fire poured in on him from four directions.

Crawling on her hands and knees, Darlene circled around the counter, hoping to get a clear shot at the mannequin and not kill Raoul in the process. He was losing consciousness; his hands were going limp. The Little One had taken off the fedora, was beating the mannequin with it, to no avail.

"Get back!" Darlene shouted, raising her gun.

The Little One scrambled backward, fell off the counter.

Darlene fired.

The mannequin's head exploded. Wires popped and flashed. The hands no longer moved, but they didn't let loose, remained locked in position, holding the scarf tightly around Raoul's throat. Its power supply gone, the mannequin slumped sideways, its lifeless hands dragging Raoul's head down onto the counter. He no longer struggled, but lay quite still, his long black hair falling in disarray over his shoulders.

There was gunfire all around her and then suddenly everything went quiet. A bad sign, but Darlene couldn't take the time to see what was going on. She lunged for the mannequin. Grasping its hands, she tried to break the grip, but failed. She plunged her fingers between the scarf and Raoul's neck, wrenched the scarf as hard as she could. The material gave way. She waited an anxious second and was relieved to see his eyelids flutter. Raoul moaned, his rib cage expanded with a gasping, indrawn breath.

Satisfied that he was alive, Darlene was about to go back to help Jamil when a flash of color caught her eye. Reaching down, she plucked an object from the breast of the mannequin.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," she said, staring at it. She tucked it into a pocket.

Leaving Raoul to the care of the Little One, Darlene crawled back to the front of the wrecked leather-goods counter. Jamil lay in a pile of smoldering handbags. A woman bent over him, her hand on his neck. "Hold it right there, Rizzoli," Darlene shouted, aiming her gun.

"I'm on your side!" Petronella cried. "Come here and help me! Keep your head down. I took out two of them, but the other two got away and I don't know where they went!"

Darlene hesitated. Keeping her gun aimed at the agent, she crept out warily from behind the counter, crossed over to Jamil.

Alarms were going off. The air was filled with smoke. The sprinkler system activated and now water rained down gently on them. Jamil was already starting to come around, shaking his head groggily. A large patch of black hair had been burned away and the side of his face was covered with blood.

Quong and Tycho arrive at that moment, guns drawn.

"Solidify!" Tycho shouted, aiming his weapon.

"What?" Petronella looked up.

"He means freeze," Quong explained. "Don't move, Agent Rizzoli."

"She claims she's on our side," Darlene said.

"Is she?"

"Who knows? We don't have time for an interrogation. There're two a.s.sa.s.sins down but still two to go and we have no idea where they are!"

"I quite understand." Quong crouched, swiveled with his gun in hands, searching. "What is the matter with Raoul?"

"A mannequin tried to kill him. Honest, Doc. I swear it. You help him. Tycho, cover us. Rizzoli, keep your hands where I can see them. Jamil, can you walk?"

"Right! About face. March." Jamil staggered to his feet, clutched at the broken counter to keep his balance. He blinked confusedly as water trickled down his nose. "Carry on, men. A little rain never hurt anybody."

"Oh, dear," said Darlene. "We can't carry him!"

"I'll take one of his arms. You take the other," Rizzoli offered.

"This way," said Quong, hurrying past with Raoula"a limp ma.s.s of green chiffona"in his arms.

The Little One, his hat battered and askew, trotted after them, tripping over his raincoat in his haste, one small hand clutching at Quong's trousers leg.

Darlene and Rizzoli followed, with Jamil between them. He was able to walk, but he had no idea what was going on, kept asking Petronella where the reviewing stand was located and if the general was there yet.

Tycho brought up the rear, guarding their backs.

The team had reached the housewares department when they met up with the police, wearing body armor and helmets and carrying beam rifles.

"They will want to question us. And we don't have time!" Quong muttered. "Stand aside!" he said loudly. "I am a doctor."

"What happened in there?" the policeman asked.

"Someone tried to kill us!" Quong stated. "There may be two a.s.sa.s.sins still inside. I am sorry, I cannot stay to elaborate. I will make a full report for you later. These people need medical treatment."

The policeman gazed at them intently, then motioned them past. "Sure, Doctor. The paramedics are waiting for you. Berserk dremecks," he reported into his comm. "They've tried to kill some of our people."

"Dremecks! That's not true!" Quong protested.

"Doc!" Darlene said urgently, coming up behind him, half dragging a groggy Jamil. "Keep moving!"

"Central, we have a situation on our hands," the policeman was saying. "Dremecks, armed and dangerous. They've killed two people and taken hostages."

"I do not understand what is happening," Quong said angrily, personally affronted. "Were you being shot at by dremecks?"

"No, Doc, of course not," Darlene returned. "The police were in on it! They had to be!"

"I see." Quong grunted. "Then we must still be on our guard."

Outside the store, police were attempting to herd the curious away from the site. Jet-powered ambulances were circling overhead, searching for clear landing zones. One dropped down almost directly in front of Quong. The paramedics jumped out, ran to the back, and flung open the doors.

"Don't get in there!" Rizzoli warned. "It's a trap!"

"I know what I am doing," Quong said curtly over the blast of the engines. He continued walking straight toward the ambulance.

Two paramedics were unloading an air-cushioned stretcher.

"I am a doctor!" Quong told them. Shouldering them to one side, he placed Raoul gently on the stretcher. "I will tend to these people. There are other members of our group still in the building! You are needed in there!"

The paramedic looked at his partner. "You stay here. I'll check it out." He headed off toward the store, which the police now had cordoned off.

"What's the matter with him?" The remaining paramedic looked at Jamil.

"Concussion," said Quong. "Similar to this." He punched the paramedic squarely and solidly in the jaw, caught the man on the downward slide, and dragged him underneath a bench.

"Good work, Doc," said Darlene.

"Hurry up!" he replied "We don't have much time. His partner will soon discover he has been duped and will return."

Darlene and Petronella helped Jamil climb into the back of the ambulance, wedged him in among the heart monitors and resuscitators.

"It's a G.o.ddam mess in here," Jamil said, glaring around angrily. "Where's my driver?"

Quong activated the stretcher containing Raoul. The stretcher glided inside the ambulance, settled into place. Darlene and Petronella secured it. Quong hoisted the Little One in after.

"Tycho, you are with me. Hold on, everyone. This is going to be a rough ride."

The doors slammed shut. Darlene and Petronella made certain that Raoul was strapped securely to the table. He opened his eyes once during the process, looked at the leather bands across his chest, murmured, "How sweet of you," and lapsed into unconsciousness again.

"Activate!" Quong snapped at the computer. He climbed into the driver's seat of the ambulance. Tycho jumped into the pa.s.senger seat and slammed the doors.

"You are not the authorized driver of this vehicle," said the computer. An alarm began to blare. "Exit immediately. You are not the authorizeda""

"Emergency code 0/79921," Quong returned, punching b.u.t.tons. "Override. I'm taking manual control."

The alarm shut off. The computer fell silent. The ambulance lifted off the ground and soared into the air at a high rate of speed, sirens wailing.

"Tycho, my friend," said Quong, guiding the ambulance into the lane reserved for emergency vehicles, "you may put away your weapon. For the time being, we are safe."

Darlene slid aside the steelgla.s.s panel that separated the driver from the back of the ambulance. "That was pretty impressive, Doc. How did you know the override code?"

"This was how I earned my way through medical school," Quong replied, entering the coordinates of the burrow into the ambulance's computer.

"You were an ambulance driver?" Darlene asked.

"No," Quong replied. "A car thief."

Darlene sat back down.

"He's kidding, right?" Petronella asked.

Darlene shrugged, shook her head, and rearranged the blankets more comfortably around Raoul.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently, seeing his eyelids flutter.

"Orange," he murmured brokenly. "Terrible color ... makes me ... turn blue...." His gaze wandered to Petronella. His eyes opened wide, then he closed them. "Oh, G.o.d," he whispered. "My poor vase."

Police cars sped past them, heading toward the Bayside Plaza, where, it was now being reported, berserk dremecks were holding off police in an armed confrontation.

"Power to the people," said Jamil, weakly raising a clenched fist.

Darlene looked at him closely. "You back with us?"

He nodded, grimaced in pain, gingerly touched his head where a b.u.mp the size of a small planet was rising. "Have I been out long?"

"Not very. That's a nasty crack. Doc, Jamil's making sense again."

Excellent. Keep him still, keep his head stabilized, and tell him to stop talking," Quong ordered.

"You heard the Doc?"

"Yeah," Jamil said, wincing. "Just answer one question. Who the h.e.l.l was trying to kill us?"

Darlene retrieved the object she'd found on the mannequin, held it up.

"It's a playing card," Jamil said, squinting at it. "You're saying some deranged poker player wanted to gun us down?"

"It's not a playing card," said Petronella, staring at it. "It's a tarot card. The Hanged Man. Where did you find this?"

"On the mannequin," said Darlene.

"A Hung hit squad," said Petronella.

"I don't get it," said Jamil.

"This is the Hung's calling card," Darlene explained, holding up the image of a man hanging upside down from a tree. "They leave them on the bodies of their victims for the police to find. A warning to back off." She sighed.

"They must have tracked me down, although I can't imaginea""

The Little One jabbed a finger at Petronella.

"Her?" said Darlene, frowning.

"She broke my vase," said Raoul weakly. "She's capable of anything."

"He's right. It was my fault," said Petronella. "I inadvertently told someone where to find you. I thought I could warn you before the Hung struck, but I underestimated them, it seems. At least," she added softly, "now I have the proof I need to hang him."

Darlene eyed Petronella. "You're not some rookie b.u.mbling around on this case, are you, Agent Rizzoli?"