"What I would like to do," he said in a speculative tone, gazing upward, "is drop him off the top catwalk. Make it look like an accident. We can dispose of the gun later. But I don't think we can wrestle him up there. He's too heavy." He glanced down at me.

"And he's conscious. He'll resist."

"Then we break his back," Rasmussen announced harshly.

"If we arrange him by the cage, he'll look like he fell, killed himself."

"Good." Sternway grinned at her.

"Let's do it."

"You're serious," Neill said.

"You're going to kill him."

"Because we have to," she spat at him.

"Get it through your head. We don't have any choicel" "Oh." He sounded shaken.

"I see. OK."

"Finally!" Rasmussen didn't disguise her exasperation.

"Help me pick him up."

Neill ducked his head, defeated.

"OK," he said again.

He came over to my right. She took the left. Clearly they didn't expect their revered sensei to do any of the work.

Together they manhandled me to my feet. When they had me upright, they turned me to face Sternway.

He still stood in front of the cage, no more than six feet away. If I fell at him, I could butt him in the kneecap. The .45 rested in his hand like it weighed nothing, meant nothing.

If he fired from this range, the slug would tear out half my back.

I shut my eyes. I could feel my legs now. Jagged blades stabbed up and down my thighs and calves. The small of my back was a sodden mass of hurt. Parker may've injured one of my kidneys.

But pain was a good thing. In a manner of speaking. As long as I felt it, I knew I wasn't dead.

"How shall we do this?" Rasmussen asked Sternway.

"OK," Neill said for the third time. He nodded to himself.

"I have an idea."

Rain pounded like retribution onto the roof of the building. I reopened my eyes.

He let go of me, and I nearly crumbled. Somehow I managed to lock my knees, keep myself upright. He put himself between me and Sternway.

Between me and the .45.

"How about," he suggested, "we do this?"

His left fist lashed out. His knuckles struck Rasmussen on the bridge of her nose. I heard it shatter.

At the same time, his right forearm hacked at Sternway's hand. At the .45. His left fist rebounded from Sue's nose to punch at Sternway's head.

Sternway had trained her well. Parker caught her by surprise, yet his blow hardly cost her half a second. Then she flung herself after him.

The .45 arced away, skidded across the concrete.

Sternway blocked Neil Ps punch, countered hard.

I toppled myself like a stack of cinder blocks onto Rasmus-sen's back.

Parker wheeled aside, blocking furiously. Sternway went for him like a whirlwind.

With my bulk crashing down on her, Sue couldn't control her momentum, deflect herself, avoid She didn't even have time to get her hands up.

Head first, she slammed into the utility cage.

The heavy grate rang like falling re bar I stumbled into it, hooked my fingers through the links to hold myself up. She bounced back a step or two, then folded quietly to the floor.

Blood stained her face. I didn't like the angle of her neck. It looked final.

Sternway drove Parker backward. They exchanged blows like barrages, kicks with the impact of mortar shells. I'd never seen fighters move so fast, not even at the fight club. Concentration flamed in Neil Ps eyes, rapt and consuming. But he was overweight, couldn't match Sternway's conditioning. And he lacked Clinging to the cage, I turned.

Pain thundered in the air. I couldn't hear blows or breathing. I couldn't hear desperation.

lacked Sternway's eagerness for combat, the keen joy that lifted him out of himself and made killing easy.

Frantically I searched the floor. As soon as I spotted the .45,1 pitched forward onto my hands and knees, and began crawling toward it.

Hell, it wasn't more than twenty feet away. I could reach it easy.

Fuck Sternway, I could reach it. Parker hadn't broken my back. And pain was my friend, my oldest companion. Every shift of my knees and scrape of my palms hurt like rage. Like courage. And if it hurt like this, it had to be worth doing. Simply had to be. All I needed, absolutely all, was for Parker to hang on.

Long enough.

Sternway had killed Bernie. He'd killed Hong. For money.

I wanted to shoot him straight in the head.

I thought I heard laughter.

"You're slow, Parker." Taunts.

"You're no fighter. You've always been slow." Taunts and blows, hammered flesh.

"I can take you whenever I choose."