I got out my keys and headed for the Beetle. "Because I have no freaking clue what's supposed to be happening at this Darkhallow. The only part that I understood enough to stop was the summoning of the Erlking, and that's been blown to hell. I keep getting burned because I don't know enough about what's going on. I've got to figure out how to throw a wrench into Cowl's gears during the Darkhallow."

"Why?"

"Because the only other thing I can do is try to kick my way through a crowd of necromancers and undead and try to punch his ticket face-to-face."

"Wouldn't that work?"

"If I could pull it off," I said, and went out into the rain. "But I'm a featherweight fighting in the heavyweight division. Nose-to-nose, I think Cowl would probably kick my eldritch ass. My only real chance is to fight smart, and that means I've got to know more about what's going on. For that, I need the book."

Butters hurried after me, a couple of fingers through Mouse's collar. We got into the Beetle and I revved it up. "But we still haven't figured out those numbers," he said.

"That has to change," I said. "Now."

"Um," said Butters as I got the Beetle moving, "you can say 'now' all you want, but I still don't know."

"Could it be a combination?" I said. "Like to a safe?"

"The older safe combinations need some kind of designation for left and right. The newer ones might use some kind of digital code, sure, but unless you find a safe with a password sixteen numerals long, that won't help us much."

"A credit card," I said. "That's sixteen digits, right?"

"Can be," Butters said. "You think that's what the number was? Maybe a credit card or debit card account that Bony Tony wanted his fee to get paid to?"

I grimaced. "Doesn't make any sense," I said. "Something like that would be in his pocket. Not hidden in a balloon hanging from a string down his throat."

"Good point," Butters said.

We rode in silence for a while. Except for the headlights of other cars, the streets were dark. Between the total lack of lighting, the dark, and the heavy rain, it was like driving through a cave. Traffic was tight and snarled anywhere near the highways, but it had thinned out considerably since the afternoon. The people of Chicago seemed to mostly be staying home for the night, which was a mercy in more ways than one.

Butters looked around nervously a few minutes later. "Harry. This isn't exactly the best neighborhood."

"I know," I said, and pulled over in front of a hydrant, the only open space in sight.

He swallowed. "Why are you stopping the car?"

"I need to check on someone," I said. "Stay here with Mouse. I'll be right back."

"But—"