Something wrong. Really wrong. Something bad. Really bad smell.

Rook woke up. The smell of shit hung in the air. And something else.

Fear. Adrenalin.Terror.

What the fuck?

Without opening his eyes he slid his right hand under the pillow, took hold of the butt of the pistol and pulled it slowly, carefully down until it was by his side and ready to use. He hit the safety stud. Then he opened his eyes.

The smell was strong, like someone had taken a dump in the room.

For once little Plesur was not wrapped around him like a super sexy anaconda, but had turned on her side and was sleeping peacefully. There was nobody else in the room, at least nobody he could see.

What the hell was going on?

The door was closed, there was no sign of forced entry, and anyway he was sure he would have heard that. Whoever had come in had used a key.

Then from the corner of his eye he noticed something, a twitch in the pale blue, floor length curtain. Someone was hiding there. A moment later he was sure of it. He was also certain that this was also the source of the stench.

For a moment he let this knowledge roll around his mind. Someone was hiding behind the drapes, stinking of shit and fear.

Rook slipped across the bed, pulled the covers away and brought the gun up, trained on the place where the curtain had moved. He had twenty rounds, plastic fragmentation rounds designed for safe use in an urban setting. Rounds that would hurt soft things very badly, but would not go through walls or even high quality windows.

With the gun in front of him he stepped quietly across the deep plush carpet, reached out and tore the curtain aside.

A naked, skinny little male figure squirmed away with a shriek.

"No, please!"

White buttocks, legs, streaked with brown stains. The smell was awful.

Rook lowered the gun.

"Rabbit, what the fuck is going on?"

The kid looked back at him with eyes like frozen marbles, dried tears streaked his face, the soft lower lip trembled.

"No. I didn't do. No. Do anything. I."

"What's wrong?"

Rabbit looked so frightened Rook thought he might faint.

"Hold on, Rabbit, just tell me."

Rabbit opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then finally he said.

"Dead. He's dead."

"Who?"

"Freddy."

A long shiver ran down Rook's spine. The favorite nephew of the Ranch was dead? So much for his protection. So much for a future in Texas. So much for staying alive. Fuck!

"Okay, take a deep breath. You're hyperventilating. Calm down and tell me how it happened."

Rabbit struggled. Tears ran down his cheeks. With a sob, he managed to sputter. "I d-d-don't know. I couldn't see them. They said bad things. They strangled him."

"Strangled Freddy?

"They had a thing around his neck. He was choking, I could hear him die."

"How many of them are there?"

"Don't know. I was in the bathroom. You can't see them. Like demons or something."

What was that?

"Can't see them?" he said.

Rabbit shivered, though it was warm in the sun streaming in the window. He sobbed. More tears dripped off his chin.

"They called him a, a, a s-s-sodomite. Said he would burn in hell."

"But you didn't see them?" Rook wondered if Rabbit was delusional, or tripping on some cocktail of intoxicants shared with Freddy. Had Freddy sucked down a tube too many of Narcosuma?

"No. I looked at the carpet. You could see where their feet were. Like the carpet was depressed, and when they moved it came back. But they were i-i-invisible."

See where their feet were....

Rook felt a little shiver travel down his spine. If the kid was hallucinating it wasn't like anything he'd heard before, and Rook had plenty of experience with the drugged and the crazy out of the uninsured world.

"Where was Oakes?"

"He got shot. I saw the flash. Kind of a thud noise? But he fought them. He's a terrible man. He made them scream."

"Scream?"

"He hit them, kicked them. I don't know. I shit myself man. I hid under the bed."

This didn't sound like narcosuma talking, or any other high-faluting, fancyass drug, either.

"Where's Oakes?"

"I don't know. Didn't see him when I came out. I took the key, came in here. I didn't know what else to do. S-s-sorry."

"It's okay, Rabbit. It's okay."

"I'm so scared. I didn't do anything."

"I know, kid. Look, go clean up in the bathroom, okay? Where are your clothes?"

Rabbit gulped anxious air again. "In the room, on a chair. But what if?"

Rook nodded, then they both looked down at the gun in his hand.

"Okay," whispered Rabbit.

And suddenly they were both embarrassed by Rabbit's nudity and filthiness. Rook turned away, observed that Plesur was awake now, peering from under the bed clothes, eyes filled with worry.

Rook simply pressed a finger to his lips. Plesur understood. She slid out of sight under the sheet while Rook pulled his pants on, added a shirt, picked up the Nokia, and then with the gun in hand opened the door.

The hallway was silent. Behind him, Rabbit had turned the shower on in the bathroom. Rook closed the door, muffling the sound. It was two in the afternoon and shafts of bright sunlight poured in through gaps in the curtains along the hallway. Rook eased his way along the passage, bare feet on the thick rug. The house was almost silent, though he could hear a pump throbbing softly down in the basement.

Other sounds came, muffled, from outside. A voice shouted something. A vehicle accelerated down the street with the high whine of an older model hybrid engine. But all this was faraway and in the house there was just the deadly hush.

He reached the landing. The stairs swept down to the ground floor. Across the landing another passage lead to the right side bedrooms. A door was partly open there and on the rug was a brown smear. Again he picked up the odor of excrement. Rook pushed the door open. The smell was stronger in the room, and there was something else.

Freddy was lying on the bottom of the bed, on his back, seriously dead. Garotted. Purple-black lines had set around his throat. His eyes bulged, white, blind, his tongue protruded, swollen, red, not a pretty sight.

Keeping the gun extended in front of him, left hand gripping right wrist, he investigated the en suite bathroom. Nobody there. The place was empty.

Rook's professional mind took over. He noted details automatically, as he had in so many other murder scenes. Calmly, he ran down the check list. and raised the Nokia to let the little cam pick up some images.

"This is not good," he murmured.

"Understood," said the calm, scando-voice of the Nokia.

There was no blood stain visible on the body.

But there was some blood on the carpet about five feet from the bed on the right side. A chair had been knocked over. A pillow had been thrown into the corner of the room. Freddy had brown silk pajamas on and had soiled himself in his death throes. It looked as if he had broken fingernails, perhaps even broken fingers, where he'd struggled against the deadly wire that was tightly wrapped around his neck.

Rook was careful not to touch anything. This was a crime scene. But then he spotted the clothes, neatly folded on another chair, in the far corner. Slacks, socks, a shirt, they had to be Rabbit's. He gathered them up, took the shoes that were neatly placed under the chair and went back to the doorway.

Freddy's deadfish eyes were disturbing to look at. Had he seen anything of his executioners? Did he know what was happening to him?

And where the hell was Oakes?

Rook tiptoed back to his own room, opened the door with the touch key and put the clothes inside on the floor. Rabbit was still showering. Plesur was dressed, sitting on a chair with the light falling across her shoulder. Her hair glowed like a mass of golden thread. Her features were composed, her manner calm. She smiled at him, perhaps there was some nervousness there, but it wasn't obvious.

"Okay?" she said in a whisper.

He nodded agreement. hugely thankful that little Plesur was such a steady character in stressful situations. Were all Pammies like this? Who would have imagined it?

He closed the door again and returned to the central staircase where he paused, listening carefully for a long minute or so. Nothing. Even the pump in the basement had stopped. He descended the stairs, ready to use the gun if he detected anything, even something invisible.

He found Herb lying face down in the doorway to the kitchen in a spreading pool of blood. Herb had been shot twice, exit wounds underneath the body, so he may never have known it was coming.

Rook found the asian woman who'd shown him and Plesur to their room, lying in the kitchen itself, face up, shot once through the forehead. Her eyes were wide open, her face frozen in permanent surprise.

The back door, past the kitchen, was open. Rook peered out. Bright afternoon sun played across a neat little garden centered on a monkey puzzle tree and a raised bed with flowers breaking through a glossy green groundcover. Latin flavored pop music was playing somewhere not far away, the bouncy rhythmn and bright female voice were macabrely dissonant to the scene in the kitchen.

Three bodies, two shot, one garotted. That had to be a message of some kind. Like why didn't they just pop Freddy and Rabbit and split? Taking the time to strangle him had let Oakes get into the game, and apparently they'd paid a price for that.

A small shed, glossy and brown, nestled in the far right hand corner of the garden. The garden was walled in with brick, creeper grew on the brick and a black and white cat was sitting on the wall near the shed. It studied him with inscrutable eyes. They must have come over that wall. Could be anywhere.

Where the hell had Oakes gone? Hospital? Or was he lying out there somewhere, dead?

Rook had a sudden strong feeling that it was time to get out of there. It was time to get Plesur and go.

He went back inside, closed the door and pressed a button that locked it. Moving quickly now, but still listening all the way, he made his way back to the room.

Plesur was ready, right down to lip gloss. Rook noted that sparkle on her fabulous lips and wondered where she'd gotten the stuff, and then realized Freddy must've supplied it the night before.

Rabbit was dressing having cleaned up. He was still distraught, but had stopped crying, for now.

"Do you know Pipo Haman?" asked Rook.

"Sure. Everyone knows Pipo"

"Call him. Now. Ask him to meet us at the place he took me to last night. Tell him it's urgent." Rook put a hand on the kid's shoulder, peered into his eyes. "Don't tell him anything more than that."

"Okay."

Rook scouted the hallway, gun at the ready, while Rabbit made the call. All remained perfectly still. The way out seemed clear. He headed back to the bedroom once again, and it was then he heard the groan. It came from a room he hadn't explored, the door being shut. Gun levelled he pushed the door open. A dim light came on automatically, showing the figure of Oakes, sprawled out on the bed.

Rook looked inside, listened carefully, then brushed his hand over the light panel and the overhead lights came up bright. He studied the carpet, looking for anything like the impressions Rabbit had described.

Oakes had struggled up a little bit. He gasped, then sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

Rook kept the gun trained on the door.

"Bastards had plasmonic wraps," growled Oakes. "You know, invisibility cloaks?"

"Christ! We really can't see them?"

There'd been rumors about this kind of stuff for years. That top of the line assassination teams were using some kind of invisibility technology. But there were rumors about all sorts of weird things like the "stink gun" that could render a house, even a neighborhood unlivable. That baby was said to have been used for years in the middle east, though never in the US.

"Yeah."

"Are they still here?"

"No. I don't think so, or we'd all be dead. But they'll be back. I hurt one of them, broke his arm, I think."

"What about you?"

"Took one, but I'm a lucky fuck. Hit a rib, deflected out right side." The big man sighed. "But I'm not much good now."

"Can you walk a few blocks?"

"Maybe. What about a cab?"

"We can try. Come on, let's go. Lean on me."

There was blood matted down Oakes's right leg, but his jacket would cover the worst.

Plesur was in the hallway, her face set in grim determination, obviously scared, but equally obviously ready to do whatever had to be done. Rook marvelled at the transformation. Wherever her genes came from, there had to be some grit in the background.

Rabbit was by the stairs looking terrified.

"Let's get out of here, man," said Rabbit.

Rook cracked open the front door, peered outside. Nothing out of the usual could be seen. Just people going about their business. Not a hint of the bloody work on display inside Herb's expensive town house.

"Come on. Lean on me."

They moved to the corner.Rook supporting Oakes on one side, Plesur on the other. The big man was in considerable pain. He'd taken more punishment than just the bullet in the ribcage. At one point Rook noticed that Oakes' right ear was ripped. Blood had crusted over the wound. They had to wait at the corner as some cars went past.

"There were definitely two of them," muttered Oakes. "Disabled the security. Don't know how."

"They killed Herb, and the housekeeper."

"Yeah, they wouldn't have suspected a thing. Can't see them at all. This is sophisticated shit."

It was hot out here under the sun, but Rook still felt cold and shivery. This fucking case had now lasted for just 24 hours and it had proved to be just as dangerous as he'd dreaded. A rattlesnake wrapped around a hornet's nest, in a dark box, waiting for an unwary hand to come within range.

It was time to cross the street. Rook realized he was carrying his gun more or less openly. That wouldn't do. He was a cop, but Greenwich Village was not in his jurisdiction and there were minicams everywhere. No one on the street had reacted to it yet, so he pushed it into his waistband and out of sight.

Oakes was heavy and not moving well at all, but there wasn't a taxi to be seen.

"How far, Rabbit?"

"Two blocks that way, turn left, go up one more block."

They crossed the street. Couples drifted past them, incurious eyes barely taking in the details of the strange little group going in the other direction. Now and then male eyes focussed on Plesur, and as they did they may have wondered why the sexy little blonde was helping the really big guy stagger down the street. It was mid afternoon, maybe the big guy drank too many martinis at lunch? Maybe he was sick? Whatever, would you look at the ass on that girl? Ohmigod.

Rook hissed under his breath as they finally saw a cab, and of course it was carrying passengers.

"No cabs, I'm afraid. How you doing?"

Oakes just grunted. He was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Rook got the message and tried to take more of the big man's weight.

A police vehicle, a one man traffic cop, rolled past, but did not stop. Rook followed it with anxious eyes until it turned the next corner. Talking to the cops at this juncture might be a really bad idea. First there would be questions about why an SIO of the Hud Val PD was lugging around a wounded man on the streets of Manhattan. Then there would be questions about him carrying a sidearm. Then there would be questions and even arrests made over Plesur, and then there'd be really awkward questions about where they'd come from and why and who and what.

They reached another corner. He vaguely recalled the 24 hour stop an' shop across the way. They'd passed that store in the dawn, on their way to Herb's house.

"Turn here, yeah?"

Rabbit was pointing down that way and so they went.

They were maybe two hundred feet from the door to the General's apartment, when Oakes gave a groan and started to fold up en route to the pavement.

"No!" Rook grabbed for more purchase on Oakes. The right hand was immediately wet with what could only be blood.

"Damn," Rook struggled to keep the big man from going down. They couldn't afford that. "Rabbit, give me a hand."

Rabbit was not happy with that idea, and Rook could see the thought of just running away as fast as his legs could carry him flit across the young man's face.

Plesur saved the day. "Come on, Rabbit," she said as she made a mighty effort, putting all her five foot two into holding Oakes up. It worked. Rabbit joined them and together they kept Oakes on his feet.

"Fading out here..." Oakes muttered.

"Real close now. Keep it together another couple minutes."

Where was Pipo? Rook scanned ahead. They had to cross the street. An empty yellow cab slid past, the first they'd seen. Great timing. The curbs were tough, Oakes struggled to stay vertical, Plesur almost tripped herself on her own feet under the load, but then they were there.

"Where's Pipo?" muttered Rook.

"He said he'd meet me." said Rabbit, sounding scared.

Rook was about to try another phone call to Pipo when he caught a glimpse of a slightly built figure in jeans and a yellow t-shirt walking rapidly away down the next block. With a grunt of "hold him," to Rabbit and Plesur, Rook took off, his feet slapping the pavement as he ran, dodging strollers and a couple of men chatting at the corner. On the next block there were a lot more people, because there were shops. Rook moved out into the street. Fortunately there wasn't much traffic. He was gaining fast, because Pipo was walking. Obviously, Pipo hadn't seen him, but equally obviously Pipo would run if he did. Pipo had caught sight of them laboriously approaching Sangacha's building and Pipo had made the sensible decision that he didn't want anything to do with whatever it was that was bringing them to him.

A small car nipped in front of him and almost took him down. Rook stopped, cursed, then ran on. Pipo turned a corner, now moving onto West 10th Street. Rook hurried, came back up onto the sidewalk, dodged around a man walking a wire haired Fox terrier. The dog, jumped, startled by Rook, then started barking.

More people ahead, chatting, shopping, blocking the sidewalk. Rook slipped between two cars into the street again..

And then he'd reached another intersection, the heart of Greenwich Village. The figure in the yellow t-shirt had disappeared. Rook cursed under his breath. This was his only hope of finding a safe harbor while he came up with some kind of plan. He had to find the little fucker because Pipo was the only way in at the General's village apartment. Otherwise he'd be out on the street with a badly wounded man, a completely illegal pleasure model and a trail of blood leading back to the corpse of Sable Ranch's preferred nephew. Throw in the fact that there were killers, who practised their trade while invisible, likely to be following up that trail and the picture was as dark and doom filled as you could possibly want.

He looked around. No sign. No yellow t-shirt. That could mean that Pipo had slipped into a building here. But there were a dozen of them and Rook didn't have the time to search them. Despair was raising a dark curtain over the proceedings when he heard a familiar, nasal whiney voice. Across the street, there, in the hallway of a red brick apartment building. The door was open for a moment as the guy with the fox terrier went in. The yellow t-shirt was visible inside.

Rook sprinted, a car was coming, he ran right in front of it, heard brakes squeal and a horn blared, but he was gone, swinging around a little tree growing in a fenced off hole in the pavement, and leaping up the three steps. The door was closing, and once it closed he was fucked, but at the last moment a slim lady in a grey tracksuit pulled the door open and exited. A moment later Rook was there and in the door. Pipo was down by the mailboxes, he hadn't seen Rook come in.

Rook slid in behind him. "Pipo," he whispered.

Haman gave a little shriek and whirled around. "No.,.."

Rook jammed his pistol into Pipo's ribs. "Sorry about this, but there's only one answer I can go with and that's,"

"Y-y-yess."

"You got it. Come on. We need you."

"I don't want to be involved."

"Yeah? Involved in what?"

Pipo gaped, wheels spinning between his ears. "Whatever is going on."

"What do you mean?" Did Pipo know something?

Pipo finally found his voice. He was afraid, and he was angry.

"I don't know, man. Why are you here? Where are you with those people? What's wrong with that big man. Isn't that Freddy's bodyguard?"

"Too many questions, kid, too little time. Let's go. I'll tell you what you need to know as we walk over there."

Pipo's face took on a stubborn look. "Why do you need to get in there?"

"Shut up. Just walk. "

Pipo hesitated. Seemed to be considering screaming for help. Rook dropped into policeman's growl.

"Hey, look, you force me to, I'll kill you right here. You wouldn't be my first. "

For a moment their eyes met and Pipo flinched. Rook really wasn't lying.

Aware that every second was precious, Rook pushed Pipo to hurry his steps. Plesur and Rabbit were not exactly the strongest street players he could have hoped to have out there holding up the big guy. However, he had no intention of keeping his gun in Pipo's back the whole way. There were just too many people out for that, so he shoved it into his waistband under his shirt and kept a thumb jabbed firmly into Pipo's back. It worked.

They were at the last corner, waiting for the light to change when Pipo spoke up again.

"So why do you want to get in there so badly?"

"I'll explain when we get there. You're gonna run a little errand for me. Nothing too difficult, but you'll do it, or I swear you're gonna find me in your own personal nightmare. You don't want that, believe me."

Pipo shrugged angrily. They crossed the street.

Up ahead was Sangacha's building. Approaching it, Rook felt his heart sink. Oakes, Rabbit and Plesur were not in sight. Had they been picked up by the killers? The police? Even an ambulance pick up might be disastrous if it brought police attention. Rook found his attention wavering between keeping Pipo close while scanning for any sign of Oakes and the others. When Pipo made a sudden move, darting towards the curb, Rook almost lost him, but recovered and caught the back of the yellow t-shirt, got a good grip and yanked the smaller man back.

He rammed the thumb so hard into Pipo's back, just above the kidney, that it evoked an honest squeak of pain.

"You fuck with me, I will take you down. I got no time to play games here."

He almost dragged Pipo to the front of Sangacha's building.

Where were they? What the fuck had happened?

Trying to think calmly and effectively, was difficult. He wanted to get off the street. He needed to come up with some plan of action. If the others had been picked up, then what was left to him, other than getting out of here and heading to LA?

He looked around, still holding Pipo tight, and then a small figure slid in beside him and a soft voice whispered.

"We hid over there."

Plesur was hugging him around the waist. A tsunami of relief crashed through his brain.

"Good girl," he whispered back. "How's Oakes?"

"Oakes?" Her hand fidgeted nervously on his hip. Oakes was not a name that registered with her. "Oh, big man! He lie down. No one can see."

"Thanks, Plesur."

Pipo was looking back at him with disgust on his face.

"Open the door," snapped Rook.

With another angry shrug, Pipo complied.

"Upstairs."

Inside the apartment Rook pushed Pipo into a bedroom.

"Take your clothes off."

Haman finally looked shocked.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Hurry."

"Look, I don't feel like sex right now."

Rook suppressed any mirth that he might have felt.

"Shut the fuck up and take your goddamn clothes off , now!"

With a sullen expression, Pipo complied. Naked he was revealed as well muscled in a flyweight fashion. Had to work out a lot. Rook took the clothes, balled them up and stuffed them into a bag he found in a closet.

"Stay in this room. Got it?"

Now, Pipo understood.

"I have to stay here?"

"For a while. I'll let you go home shortly. Just sit down, count your blessings."

"What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. You're not in trouble. Just be patient for a litlte while, and stay in this room."

With a groan, Pipo sat down. Rook shut the door.

Plesur was making coffee. Rook took her downstairs to hold the door open. Then he ran down the alley. Behind the black plastic dumpster robot he found a terrified looking Rabbit crouched beside Oakes, who was sitting with his back against the wall of the building.

"What's happening?" Oakes managed to say.

"We got the door open. Just gotta get you inside, then see about some emergency medical care."

"'Kay."

It wasn't easy getting Oakes back on his feet, but between Rook and Rabbit they managed and then they walked him back to the front door, up the steps, inside and shut the door.

"Phew," muttered Rook.

Oakes was bathed in sweat.

The steps up to the apartment were a trial. They took them slowly, resting at each landing. Oakes gasped with pain now and then, Rook prayed the big man made it all the way. He had no Plan B for what to do if they didn't get into the apartment safely.

Fortunately, nobody came out of any of the other apartments during this calvary march up the stairs.

And then, at last, after what seemed like an eternity of struggle, they got into the apartment and Plesur closed the door behind them.

When they finally had Oakes deposited on a bed inside, Rook sat down in the living room. He was sweating, breathing hard, but his brain was in high gear.

Plesur had made coffee. Rook gladly took a cup. Good coffee, too. That helped. Plesur was pulling stuff out of the fridge. Rook was mildly astonished that there was anything in there, and more than that that little Plesur had just jumped on it without being asked, whipping up some food and coffee for the troops.

Rabbit sat down nearby, visibly trembling, biting that soft lower lip of his. The kid was a valuable witness. When they were being debriefed by the Sable Ranch people, Rabbit's testimony would be essential. So add little Rabbit to little Plesur and big, bad, but wounded Oakes, who all needed Rook's protection.

Rook rested his hand on the butt of the sidearm. At least while they were holed up in here, with two doors between them and the outside world, they had some degree of safety, and if assassins, even invisible ones, broke in, then they'd see how they stood up to Remington .44 plasti-frags.

Plesur had found freeze-dried fruits and reconstituted them in the micro-unit. Now she was opening some dri-pak cocktail nuts. Rook gave thanks again for the genes that went into a Pammy. There were more than just the obvious ones.

The first thing to do was to get some medical help for Oakes. And then Rook realized that Oakes had to know of some way to get a message to Sable Ranch.

Rook went in to sit beside Oakes on the bed.

Oakes opened his eyes.

"Got to get you some medical attention," said Rook. "How do we call, uh, the Ranch?"

Oakes shook his head. "My phone doesn't go that high. Secure circuits down there, you see. You need Freddy's. The little pink and white one. Looks like a pen, he keeps it in his pocket."

"He wasn't chipped?"

"Hell no, none of those folks have BIMs. That shit is bad for human health. There's research and stuff that only they get to see, you know?"

"Yeah?" For some reason this neither surprised Rook, nor outraged him.

"They don't do any of that. They don't eat ordinary food either. You'll see if you ever get there. Everything's raw, salad three meals a day. Fucking awful."

"How can we call them?"

"Get Freddy's phone. Then we can call in some help."

Damn. That meant going back to Herb's house. That meant going back to that room where poor Freddy was lying, purple tongue protruding from his dead lips. The same room in the same house where killers with invisibility cloaks were likely to be waiting, just in case.

"You need Freddy's phone. The special one. It's disguised. Looks like a felt tip. Red top, black bottom. Get it. I should've thought to tell you earlier. Not thinking too good, y'see."

"Where would it be?"

"Be close to Freddy is all I can say. In a pocket, or by the bed. Never far away."

"Can we use it?"

"Oh, sure. But it's got a secure line. Don't ask me how, but it can't be tapped. And it's the only way to call the Ranch safely. Every other line will be bugged by these bastards."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Gunships? Invisibility? They're in tight with the Pentagon. This shit is coming from inside the military. This is a stealth coup, you unnerstan'?"

"Coop?"

"Yeah, Coup D'etat. That's French for an armed takeover of the state."

"Christ."

Oakes managed a wolfish grin. "Christ can't help us now. You gotta get the phone. And fast. We need to warn the Ranch."