“I think you do, Finch. I think you do. At least, those two thought so. Show him, boys.”

They dragged him closer to the wall. Saw four pale feet, the rest of the bodies hidden by shadows.

“The two morons that Bosun saw spirit you away. They didn’t say much before they died. But they said enough.”

Finch didn’t think they’d said anything at all. “I don’t even know who they are.”

“Of course you don’t, Finch,” Stark said with disgust. “You never saw their faces. Let alone their feet. So, again, where did you disappear off to?”

“Nowhere.”

Stark looked at him a second. “Nowhere? Nowhere. Next you’ll be saying you’ve made no progress on the case.”

“There is no progress, Stark.”

“Even after I gave you that juicy transcript? I think you’re lying.”

Finch, reckless: “I think you fed us that address in the transcript. It almost got us killed. For nothing. And I wasted a day. So I’ve got nothing for you, either.”

Stark pulled back a second, as if to get a better look at Finch. “Are you serious, Finch? Because that’s not what I heard. I heard Wyte blew it for you. Your man transforms into some huge fucking monster and charges the stage. That’s what I’m told. Not exactly proper procedure. Not exactly what you’d expect from a detective. Or maybe it is. Maybe it’s the old quick-change comic theater routine. Maybe that goes over big in this shit hole. What is Wyte, anyway? Some kind of secret weapon?”

“He’s sick,” Finch said.

“Any sicker than Duncan Shriek?” Stark asked, with a knowing leer. “Because I hear Mr. Shriek is dead. And holed up in a certain apartment on Manzikert Avenue. Writing his ghost memoirs.” Stark’s refinement was slipping. A rougher voice, with a gutter accent.

“Why not go look for yourself,” Finch said. “Maybe you’ll turn up some clues.”

Stark kneed Finch in the groin. Finch groaned. Couldn’t fall down, held by the two men. “Think you’re funny? I know that’s a kill zone. You don’t get me, Finch. Do you think I give a fuck about this sewer of a city?” Stark whispered in his ear. “I don’t give a fuck about this dump. I don’t care if it all goes up in pillars of flame. It’s not my fucking town. But I don’t like being lied to. And I don’t like people getting in the way of what I want.”

Apparently no one did. Not Stark. Not the Lady in Blue. Not Heretic. Finch was tired of it.