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Bre
Not, he thought, that they'd be able to use Gruber's memories to track her down. Although Wraith had never told Bre
They drove on in silence. Whiskers finally pulled over and killed the engine in front of a three-story brownstone in the heart of Jokertown.
"Cowboy, you and Lazy Dragon help Deadhead. He can't do much on his own while he's digesting."
Bre
It was a comfortably appointed room, rather luxurious compared to what Bre
"How did it go?"
"Fine, Fadeout, just fine."
Bre
"He'd better be." Fadeout stepped away from the cart, settled himself in a comfortable chair nearby. "Help youself," he said, gesturing at the liquor.
Whiskers stepped forward eagerly. Bre
Fadeout's drink sloshed over his suit, Whiskers fell into the liquor cart, and Lazy Dragon and Bre
"Jesus Christ!" Fadeout swore, lurched to his feet, and staggered to the door as the ratcheting roar of automatic gunfire came from below.
Bre
Something tossed from the room behind them fluttered in the hallway, a small sheet of paper that had been intricately folded. Before Bre
It caught a burst of slugs but didn't stop. It hurled itself at the three men at the end of the corridor, and Bre
Bre
Lazy Dragon was holding one man down with his front paws, and with a single, quick motion bit cleanly through his throat. Blood sprayed over the hallway as a panicked gunman put a long burst through Dragon from point-blank range. The red dot from the sighting mechanism of Bre
Fadeout had faded. Bre
Bursts of automatic gunfire still rattled below as Bre
The foyer's double doors were open. Half a dozen Egrets, shot to pieces by automatic gunfire, lay on the stained marble floor. As Bre
Bre
He looked over his right shoulder. A pair of blue eyes, nerve tendrils and co
"The Mafia?" Bre
"That's right, Cowboy. Rico Covello's men. I recognized what was left of their ugly faces from our dossiers." He paused, his anger replaced by sudden gratefulness. "I owe you one. They would've had me if you hadn't knocked me down."
Bre
"Right."
They went back upstairs. Bre
"Everything is all right?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say that," Fadeout replied, still angry. "Those guinea bastards just waltzed in here and almost offed me." He looked angrily at Whiskers, who was standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. "What were you doing about it, you joker shitbag?"
Whiskers shrugged. "I-I thought someone should stay with Deadhead-"
"Take off that goddamned mask when you talk to me!" Fadeout ordered angrily. "I'm sick and tired of looking at Nixon's mug. No matter how ugly you are, it can't be worse."