You cant tell anybody. He went up to his room eating the pizza and changed his clothes. Jeans and a black T-shirt were his go-to casual attire. His arm and shoulder were still sore, and he went to the bathroom to reapply the ointment on his face. As he was coming out, Helen Speers was standing there in cut-off jean short-shorts with the bottoms of the white pockets exposed next to her muscled thighs, and a red crop top. Her long hair was piled on top of her head and held there by assorted hairclips. From who? Herbie asked. Im sure as hell not going to give it to him. You defended me, of course. Well, I guess not, no, sir. Blocks ahead he saw flashing lights, then the rain came again obliterating his view. He instinctively slowed, and in so doing, passed behind a truck crossing Second in the sixties. He had not seen the vehicle until he was behind it. He took some deep breaths to calm himself, then got his speed up as the wave of rain passed. The flashing lights farther downtown were no longer there. Then, dead ahead, he saw a motorcycle down in the middle of the street, an inert form lying yards south of it. He slammed on his breaks, stopped, and got off. The man was lying on his back, and Stone felt for a pulse at his neck. Nothing. He unzipped the mans jacket and listened at his chest. Still nothing. And it sure as shit couldnt be the fuckin CIA again. He stood in front of her and shook his head.I really dont get you. No reason for you to. Travis Devine. Thirty-fourth floor. Newbie class. Still trying to cut it to the next level. The dark waters reflected the moonlight. The yellow security lights swayed in the wind. Only one of the houseboats showed any light in its windows. The expensive craft were at the west end of the dock. The ones nearest the asphalt I stood on were not only modest, a few of them were in shambles. Paint faded, windows patched with tape, not much bigger than a prison cell. I doubted that these ever left the dock. Theyd work for beer parties just fine as people, drinks and drugs sprawled over the land, keeping the shabby houseboats nothing more than storage bins. The elites at the far end of the dock probably roared up here just to stand on the bow and piss. It was strange then that the pavilion would be at my end. It was behind me in the wooded area. Id checked it out. It was empty. This is Michelle Montgomery. Michelle, Helen Speers, a recent NYU Law grad. I was walking past her place and saw them— Devine ventured up into the land of the Fifties now and headed crosstown between Sixth and Seventh. It was a long, narrow, pothole-riddled street full of construction equipment and ripped-up asphalt and exposed trenches, and plywood and steel-plate pathways with warning signs everywhere. The construction work was thankfully silent on the Sabbath, but the people, heat, food carts, trash, and everything else one would expect in the big city were in full and sometimes malodorous splendor. Okay, but since you just tried to kill us, it doesnt matter how much you gave the mayor and governor for their last elections. Very. But why were you by the pool if Cowl didnt tell you to be? She glanced over at the large computer where the Hummingbird logo was prominently displayed.NowHummingbird is mybaby. 36 Yes, sir..