Nigel’s form of reply was but a quiet coughing sound, his signal that the conversation was over and done with. And upon his lead, the two of them went to the table that was arranged at his will and would disappear in the same manner.

Nigel, as with the others, neither lived nor breathed; he simply was. And the food was the same, neither necessary nor extant—as was the landscape and all that the four of them did to pass their eternity. But the trappings of a gracious life were of value. Indeed, the quarters that he shared with Colin were well kitted-out and the sojourns they took therein were not for any sleep necessity, but for recharging of a different kind.

War was exhausting, its burdens ne’er-ending, and at times, one needed physical succor.

As Nigel took his place at the table, he pulled his strength about him and resumed the mantle of leadership whilst Byron smiled and poured. In front of the other two, he was ever who he had to be. Colin, however, was different—although only when they were alone.

Never when there were others present.

As he lifted his fine bone china cup off its saucer, the perfumed steam from the Earl Grey wafted into his nose, and he worried beneath his calm exterior.

They could not risk losing even one of these contests, but a gentleman did not play dirty.

He had his standards of gamesmanship.

Damn it.

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Out in the Boston suburb of Malden, Jim and Adrian and Eddie were nothing but shadows in the dense darkness as they approached a half-finished office building. The structure was part of a shaggy, abandoned development that had some fifteen or more of the suckers . . . and not a single one of them was in use or even completed. Which suggested the financer/owner was bleeding mortally from his bank account.

Assuming he hadn’t already toe-tagged himself with Chapter 7 paperwork and jumped into a liquidation grave.

The unit they’d come to see had a circle of lawn that cut into the balding forest in back, and the three of them stayed among the trees while surveilling the layout: The five-story-high skeleton was up and sealed with plum-colored glass windows, but there were no lights on and nothing but packed dirt for the parking lot in the rear.

Place was utterly abandoned.

Well, by lawful visitors, that was.

Illegal trespassers were streaming in, their cars and trucks forming a surprisingly orderly row not far from where Jim and his boys were.

Looked like the intel from that fireman back at the gym had been solid.

“You know,” Adrian said, “I could get in the ring. Throw some fists. Maybe a human or two.”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t think we need that right now.”

“In an earlier life, were you a pair of brakes?”

“Try a brick wall. Come on, let’s get down there.”