“And today they’re all here,” he went on, looking around them. “He knows we’re looking for him. But he won’t be easily recognized. Another man in a suit and boater hat…”

“Well, he may have changed his clothes, Francis,” Bennie said. He cocked a thumb at the dark-ride pavilion. “Think he’s in there?”

“I doubt it. There’re plainclothesmen all over it, and around the Miniature Railway and the duck pond. He’ll know that—he’s smart. If he’s at Riverview, I think he’ll go there—”

He raised his billy club to indicate the woods, then craned his neck to scrutinize the small rise overlooking Hell Gate. “We could go up there, catch a view…”

Bennie nodded, staring at the knoll. He frowned. “What’s that?”

Francis halted to see where he pointed. Atop the rise stood two figures—a man, not very tall, and a girl. The man held some kind of knife, its blade catching the light as he parried at the girl. She gestured frantically, he lowered the blade, and she fled downhill, toward the woods. Francis grabbed Bennie’s arm. “It’s him.”

They raced up the knoll, Bennie outpacing Francis until they neared the top. Night had taken the girl, but the man remained where he was, staring after her until, with a start, he saw them and bolted.

They nabbed him as he ran down the hill. Bennie grabbed his jacket; the little man shook him off and stumbled away until Francis tackled him, pinning him to the ground. He reached past the man’s writhing arms to pull a long-bladed knife from a sheath in his sock.

Bennie whistled. “I’ll be damned. That’s a Solingen.”

“Not yours!” the man shouted. “My father’s! My grandfather’s!”

Francis stood and yanked the man to his feet. He recognized him now—the weird stunted fellow who stood outside the incubators, watching little girls traipse in and out. He was a good head shorter than Francis and, despite his deep voice, appeared no older than Bennie. He thrashed and babbled like a lunatic, raving about a general, knives, a reward.

“Enough!” Francis shook the man violently. To his relief, he fell silent, though he continued to mouth words as he stared, wild eyed, down at the woods. “Tell me your name.”

The man grew rigid but said nothing.

“What were you doing with that girl?” prodded Bennie. “Who is she?”

“Not a girl!” The man lunged, nearly slipping free. “Pin. That’s Pin!”

Bennie grabbed his other arm as Francis held up the man’s knife. “I saw you threatening her, we both did.”

The man’s gibberish rose to a howl. “I—did—not!”

“I said enough!” Francis yanked the man toward him. “You need to come with me, sir. What is your name?”

Abruptly the man grew still. “General Henry Dargero. I’m from Brazil.”