the police would have had a suspect for the killings. But ...' He shrugged. 'You had saved my life, and I felt obliged.'
'So ... you're an agent, of sorts?'
'Yes.' (It wasn't too much of a lie. He had been one, at that time, anyway).
'Working ... for whom?'
'People,' Harry shrugged again. 'When the police can't do something that needs doing - when the law defeats the lawful -then my people are there to help. Except they're not my people any more. I overstepped myself, with you.'
Her mouth fell open. 'You're out?'
'Yes,' he answered. This is my last job: to find out why you were there, why you did what you did. Only answer a question or two, truthfully ... you'll be in the clear. And I shall have squared it with my people.'
They'll take you back?'
'No, but that's okay. I have other things to do.' He sipped again at his wine, which was in fact excellent. It soothed a sore throat he hadn't even realized he had. And it was loosening not only his tongue but his mind, too, and making everything he'd said seem reasonable - even to him!
'So ...' (she was still uncertain). 'After you'd left me in that alley - '. and that was something of a swift getaway, too, if I may say so! - where did you go? And how did you disappear so quickly?'
'I went to my superiors and briefed them on what had occurred. They'd been after that gang for a long time. As for getting away quickly: \ there's a wicket gate in that warehouse door in the alley. I simply I stepped through it.' (Well, he'd stepped through a kind of door, : anyway, if not a wicket gate).
The frown was back on her face. 'I could swear that when I glanced away from you, then back again, you had simply ... I don't know, disappeared?'
That stuff I used on you,' he answered. 'It has illusory effects, but i they soon wear off. Also, it was very misty in the alley.
Anyway, what ; are you suggesting? Where's the mystery? I get paid -1 used to get paid ' - not to be seen, to arrive unannounced and depart without leaving a trace.' Suddenly Harry was slurring his words. Not a lot, but sufficient that he noticed it.
'So what with the mist and all, and your disorienta- i tion ...'
And there was B.J. refilling his glass. Had he emptied it that quickly? 'Now it's your turn,' he said, stifling a yawn.
'Is my company that boring?' B.J. smiled wonderingly. Or so he thought.
Tired!' the Necroscope told her, feeling the weight of his leaden eyelids. Not surprising, really ... all the chasing about he'd been doing ... and the drink ... and the big question mark still hanging like a sword over Brenda and Harry Jr: their whereabouts, their safety. He leaned to one side, propping himself up with one elbow on the lounger, and asked: 'Why were you there? Why the crossbow? Why did you kill that Skippy bloke, and try to kill the one in the wolf mask? Just for revenge? You said that they'd put friends of yours in jeopardy.' (The word 'jeopardy' hadn't come out very well, but Harry continued anyway): 'Which was enough to make you track them down and kill them? Well, all I can say is, you must really care for your friends! Why not start by telling me about that?'
'Are you okay?' she looked a little worried now, concerned for him.
'Me? I'm fine!' But the glass tilted in his hand a little. That was okay, there wasn't much wine in the glass anyway.
'Look, be comfortable,' she said. 'I've only just realized how wiped out you look! Here, let me fix that ...' And before he could complain even if he'd wanted to, B.J. had placed a couple of pillows under his head. 'You have hollows under your eyes a cat could curl up and sleep in!' she said. But the way she said the word 'sleep' was like an invocation: he could actually feel his itchy eyelids closing, and was too tired to rub them open.
'Your ... turn ...' he said, lolling there -
- And barely felt her hands touching his shoulders, turning him on his back, and easing his head onto the pilows. And: Damn it! he thought, as he passed out. And a moment or an aeon later, even more idiotically: / hope I didn't drop my glass!
When she was satisfied that the