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Sierra's phone rang. She pounced on it.

“I think we found Hank for you,” Simon said on the other end. “Rumor is he's holed up in a bar on East Wall Street. Place called the Firewall Tavern.”

“Thanks, Simon. I really appreciate this.” She ended the call, yanked her purse out of the bottom desk drawer, and got to her feet. “Got a lead on my missing source. I'll see you all later.”

She paused long enough to collect Elvis from the balloon basket and then flew out the door.

The last thing she heard was Phil making his customary announcement in a deep, resonating voice.

 

 

FONTANA LOOKED AT THE FILE SPREAD OUT ON THE DESK.

“Tanner's service records for the last six months of his Guild career are missing,” he said.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Ray flattened his palms on the desk and surveyed the file, grimly thoughtful. “Occasionally paperwork goes astray, but under the circumstances, I've got to admit this looks a little strange.”

Fontana engaged the intercom. “I need you in here, Harlan.”

The door opened. Harlan Ostendorf appeared, looking seriously concerned. It was an expression he did well, because it came naturally to him. Fontana suspected that he had probably been born looking seriously concerned. Harlan was now in his midfifties, and the lines engraved by his serious view of life had become indelible.

Harlan's serious approach to his work was one of the two reasons Fontana had pulled him out of the accounting department and promoted him to chief executive assistant immediately after Jenner had been forcibly retired. The second reason was that he hadn't trusted the man Jenner had installed in the position.

“Any reason why the file of a retired hunter named Jake Tanner might be missing the records for his last six months of service?” Fontana asked.

Harlan frowned, looking more serious than ever. “No, sir. That doesn't sound right. But there are duplicates of all service records in Benefits. I'll send Dray down to get them for you.”

“Thanks.”

Harlan disappeared, closing the door quietly behind him.

“There's something else that happened six months ago that's starting to bother me,” Ray said. He opened another file. “A hunter named Cal Wilson was killed in an apparent jungle accident. He evidently fell into a ghost river whirlpool. Could be a coincidence. There was an investigation, but—”

“But Jenner signed off on the report declaring it an accident,” Fontana concluded, “so we should take the results with a grain of amber.”

“I think so, yes.”

“We need to find out if there's any connection at all between Jake Tanner and Cal Wilson.”

Twenty minutes later, Harlan stuck his head around the edge of the door. His expression had moved from serious to somber.

“The duplicates in Benefits are missing as well, sir,” he said. “I had Dray check the computer archives. They've been deleted from there, too.”

“Had a hunch that might be the case. Thanks, Harlan.”

Harlan retreated into the outer office, closing the door behind him.

Fontana considered the file. “Damn, she was right.”

Ray's brows rose. “Who was right?”

“My wife.”

It felt good to say that.
My wife
. The beginning of a real family of his own.
No, don't go there. Too soon. Too many things can go wrong.
Starting with the fact that her real family probably considered him no better than a mobster.

The door opened again.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Harlan said. “But I thought I'd better remind you of the annual Crystal City Charity Ball event tonight.”

“That damned fund-raiser. I'd forgotten about it. Thank you, Harlan.”

“Also, there was another phone call from Mr. Burns.”

“You told him I was unavailable again?” Fontana asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks.”

The door closed again.

Fontana reached for the phone. “I'd better tell Sierra about the charity ball.”

Ray lounged back in his chair, looking amused. “You mean she doesn't know yet?”

“Not like I haven't had a few other things on my mind.” He dialed Sierra's number.

Ray gazed at the ceiling. “Got a feeling this is going to turn ugly fast.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You can't drop a bombshell like this on a woman.” Ray checked his watch. “Not when she's only got a few hours to shop.”

“I don't see any major problem here. It's just a fancy party.”

“Obviously you've got a lot to learn about marriage,” Ray said.

“You're an expert? You've never been married.”

“At least I had the common sense to acknowledge my lack of expertise and buy a manual on the subject.”

Fontana looked at him. “There's a manual?”

“
Ten Steps to a Covenant Marriage: Secrets of a Professional Matchmaker
by Celinda Ingram.”

“Don't tell me you're reading a book on how to get married.”

“Bought a copy this morning.”

“Why in hell did you do that?” Fontana asked.

“Because Kay is reading it. Figured it would be a good idea to keep one step ahead of her.”

“Damn. You can't be serious. It doesn't happen that fast.”

Ray spread his hands. “Says the man who got married within hours after meeting the lady.”

Before he could think of a rational response to that remark, Sierra answered her phone.

“Hello?” She sounded distracted.

He heard muffled traffic noises in the background. “Where are you?”

“In my car. Simon found Hank. I'm on my way to talk to him.”

A strange sensation exploded in his gut. Not panic, exactly, but something very close to it.

“No,” he said. With superhuman effort, he managed to keep his voice calm and controlled. “You are not going anywhere.”

There was a short, brittle silence.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that,” Sierra said quietly.

He didn't need Ray's elevated eyebrows to realize he was not handling this well.

“Listen closely, Sierra. I don't want you meeting Hank alone.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

“I think Jake Tanner was involved in something very dicey, and I don't want you following him down the same dust-bunny hole. Understood?”

“You found something?” she asked quickly.

“It's more like what I haven't found. Look, where are you supposed to meet Hank?”

“East Wall Street. Place called the Firewall Tavern.”

“Hell. Trust you to find your way to the Firewall. Out of all the dumps in the Quarter, you picked that one to walk into alone.”

“What's wrong now?” Sierra asked, sounding bewildered.

“Don't go into that place without me,” he said, keeping his voice very even.

“Why not?”

“It's a dive.”

“That's okay, I do dives.”

“Not like the Firewall. Pay attention, Sierra. I repeat, do not go into the Firewall without me.”

“You know, Fontana, we really must have a little talk soon. Just because you're my husband for a while, that doesn't give you the right to order me around as if I were one of your hunters.”

Well, at least she had referred to him as her husband, not as her partner in the investigation. He set his back teeth. “
Please
don't go into that tavern until I get there. It isn't just any Quarter dive. People have been known to disappear into the catacombs or get permanently ghost-fried when drug deals go bad there. Last I heard, journalists don't have any special immunity to a mag-rez or a ghost.”

She exhaled slowly. “Okay, those are all good, logical reasons for waiting. I'll meet you outside the Firewall.”

He allowed himself to breathe again. “One more thing.”

“If this is another warning about the Firewall, you've made your point.”

“This isn't about the Firewall.” He was on his feet, taking his black jacket off the wall hook. “I forgot to tell you this morning that we've got a social engagement tonight.”

“What kind of social engagement. Your family?”

“I don't have any family, remember?”

“You never told me that. I know your parents were never married, but that doesn't automatically imply that you don't have a family.”

“It does in my case. The social engagement I'm talking about is the annual Crystal City Charity Ball. The head of the Guild always attends. I need a date. In light of recent events, that would be you.”

“Are you kidding?” She sounded outraged. “I can't go to the Crystal Ball with you.”

He winced and held the phone some distance away from his ear. He noticed that Ray was smiling.

“Why not?” he asked cautiously.

“You need a ball gown to go to a ball. I don't have one in my wardrobe. Didn't think I'd need one here in Crystal.”

“So? Go shopping this afternoon. The Guild will pick up the tab.”

Ray winced.

“Damn it, Fontana,” Sierra said tightly. “You can't just spring something like this on a woman—”

Out of nowhere, inspiration struck. “Donovan Corley will be there,” he said.

“Corley?” Sudden interest replaced the annoyance in her tone. “Are we talking about the same Corley who is the CEO of Underworld Exploration?”

“The very same.”

“You'll introduce me?”

“Sure.”

“You've got a date.”

He ended the connection and gave Ray a satisfied smile.

“I'm a fast learner,” he said.

HER PSI SENSES SHRIEKED A WARNING WHEN SHE WALKED through the door. Not that she needed her intuitive talent to know that the Firewall was the kind of place that gave hunter bars a bad name, Sierra thought. She doubted if even the most thrill-seeking coeds or bachelorette parties would schedule an evening of fun here. Dark, dingy, and reeking of stale booze, it smelled a lot like the alley where Hank and Jake had made their homes.

The ambient underground psi was very strong. Fontana was right; the establishment was probably sitting on top of a hole-in-the-wall. She didn't doubt that he'd been correct about the drug dealing in the basement, either.

With the exception of a couple of tough-looking types dressed in faded khaki and worn leather, the place was nearly empty. The bartender gave Sierra and Fontana a hard look.

“Got a feeling the service is not great here,” Sierra said quietly.

“That's okay,” Fontana said. “I don't plan to leave a tip.” He took her arm in a proprietary manner. “I see someone in the last booth. Is that Hank?”

She peered through the gloom. There was a shadowy figure at the back of the room. “Yes, I think so.”

“Keep moving.”

She did, but it wasn't easy. Her intuition was shrieking at her to turn around and run. The only thing that kept her going forward was the knowledge that Fontana was by her side.

Elvis wasn't happy, either. He rumbled softly, not in a good way, and went sleek. His second set of eyes appeared.

One of the men gave Sierra an assessing look and leered. “Well, well, well, Chuck, look what just walked in. Kind of classy for this part of town, ain't she?”

Evidently this pair didn't read newspapers or watch television, Sierra thought. They hadn't recognized Fontana.

“I do believe that what we have here is a nice uptown couple that wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time,” the second man said. When he leered, he displayed a lot of bad teeth.

His companion guffawed at the witticism. “I'll bet the pretty lady would be real nice to us if we did her a couple of favors first.”

“What favors you got in mind, Chuck?”

“I think we should singe the guy in the suit first. Teach him some manners. This is a hunter bar. Outsiders ain't welcome. Then we burn the little rat on the lady's shoulder. It's a pest-control issue.”

“Whatever you say, Chuck.” The first man got to his feet. He stepped directly in front of Sierra. “I'll bet you came here looking for a good time, didn't you, honey? Chuck and me, we'll be glad to show you one. Ain't that right, Chucky?”

“Damn right,” Chuck agreed.

He, too, was on his feet. He started to circle around behind Fontana.

“Hang on to Elvis,” Fontana said quietly to Sierra. “I don't want him to get hurt.”

Sierra grabbed Elvis in both hands and clutched him tight. Elvis wriggled in annoyance, but she did not release him.

Fontana looked at the two men. “We won't be staying long. If you're smart, you'll sit down, finish your beers, and leave us alone.”

The man who was trying to get into position behind Fontana grinned, showing off his really bad teeth again.

“We can always drink beer. Right now, the lady looks like more fun. Ain't that right, Joe?”

“She sure does,” Joe agreed. “I'll get her out of the way. Don't want her to get fried when you take care of the suit.”

He reached for Sierra's arm. Elvis snarled, showing his own impressive array of teeth. Unlike those of the hunters, his were in excellent condition. Joe retracted his arm instantly, reddening with anger.

“I'll wring its neck,” he vowed, retreating to a safe distance.

“This is not a good idea,” Fontana said, his voice calm and just slightly edged with irritation.