The boss’s face darkened as he rose from his chair.

“I advise you to put that idea out of your head, or you may wind up sharing the cage with the creature.”

He stepped closer to Jack and edged him outside. “You have been warned. Good day, sir.”

He reached a long arm past Jack and pulled the door closed.

Jack stood outside a moment, realizing that a worst-case scenario had come true. A healthy Scar-lip… he couldn’t let that go on. He still had the can of gasoline in the trunk of his car. As soon as he was back in Manhattan he’d return to Plan A. And if he had to take the whole tent down to get it done, then that was how it would go.

As he turned, he found someone standing behind him. His nose was fat and discolored; dark crescents had formed under each eye. The rain, a drizzle now, had darkened his sandy hair, plastering it to his scalp. He stared at Jack, his face a mask of rage.

“You’re that guy, the one who got Bondy and me in trouble!”

Now Jack recognized him: the roustabout from Sunday night. Hank. His breath reeked of cheap wine. He clutched a bottle in a paper bag. Probably Mad Dog.

“You look like shit, man!” he told Jack with a nasty grin.

“You don’t look so hot yourself.”

“It’s all your fault!” Hank said.

“You’re absolutely right,” Jack said and began walking back in the direction of town to meet Abe. He had no time for this dolt.

“Bondy was my only friend! He got fired because of you.”

A little bell went ting-a-ling. Jack stopped, turned.

“Yeah? When did you see him last?”

“The other night—when you got him in trouble.”

The bell was ringing louder.

“And you never saw him once after that? Not even to say good-bye?”

Hank shook his head. “Uh-uh. Boss kicked him right out. By sun up he’d blown the show with all his stuff.”

Jack remembered the rage in Oz’s eyes that night when he’d looked from the wounded rakosh to Bondy. Now Jack was pretty sure that the ringing in his head was a dinner bell.

“He was the only one around here who liked me,” Hank said, his expression miserable. “Bondy talked to me. All the freaks and geeks keep to theirselves.”

Jack sighed as he stared at Hank. Well, at least now he had an idea as to who had supplemented Scar-lip’s diet.

No big loss to civilization.

“You don’t need friends like that, kid,” he said and turned away again.

“You’ll pay for it!” Hank screamed into the rain. “Bondy’ll be back and when he gets here we’ll get even. I got my pay docked because of you and that damn Sharkman! You think you look bad now, you just wait till Bondy gets back!”

Pardon me if I don’t hold my breath.

Jack wondered if it would do any good to tell him that Bondy hadn’t been fired—that, in a way, he was still very much with the freak show. But that would only endanger the big dumb kid.