“Yes.” Rousseau’s bunched shoulders relaxed a fraction. “So that we live long enough to make good on the long-term one. We’ve got away with our ad-hoc system for so long because no one wanted downtown but us. But now . . .”

“Now,” agreed Will, “the shit is really hitting the fan.”

“They may be doing this just to divide the dens. Individually, we’re no threat. Together, we might have a chance.”

“We still don’t know who ‘they’ is,” said R.J.

“Or why they see the dens as a problem.”

Irv collected Rubio from somewhere and sidled over. “Can we say something?”

Rousseau seemed ready to consider any input. “Please do.”

Irv glanced at Rubio, then cleared his throat. “This won’t be the answer you’ve been aiming at, but . . . it might be a solution.”

TWENTY-SIX

“A solution to what?” Rousseau frowned. He hadn’t expected serious input.

Cowed, Irv sucked in his cheeks. “Everything?”

R.J. chuckled. “Bring it on, dude.”

Rousseau looked embarrassed. “Now’s not the time for . . .”

“No, really. If you look at the numbers . . .” Irv was a diffident guy. Under his neat beard, his cheeks flushed, but figures were his territory. “Your scout said there were lots of Adders, but how many? We need to know.”

“Our man on recon should give us a closer count.”

“Whatever, it’s too many,” said Will, moving toward the door.

Irv plowed on. “Maybe not. You’ll notice that, except for Gimme Shelter, the dens the Adders have left alone are the biggest ones. Not necessarily the best armed.”

Rousseau gave him a closer look. “You’re saying, what? Safety in numbers?”

Irv nodded. “At Ladysmith’s, we were armed to the teeth. Small arms mostly, but lethal in a close fight. Thing is, there were only thirty-four of us. Not enough to fight off a surprise attack from more guys with bigger weapons. So now we’re only twenty-six.”

“But counting you, Unca Joe’s over a hundred.”

“A hundred and twelve.” Irv glanced toward the Empires. “And you’re what, well over ninety?”

“One hundred eighteen.” Will turned back, his interest caught. “We’ve picked up a few lately, independents who can’t hack it solo anymore, or move-ons from other dens. Even a few uptowners who aren’t comfy with the power politics being played up there.”

Irv bobbed his head again, a nervous tic. “And Tall Tommy’s at sixty-five or seventy?”

“Yes, but they’re all so intimidating, it’s like twice that.” Will offered a rueful grin, the first I’d seen on him. I saw kindness behind his corporate sleek. “What about Riverhome?”

Red Katja fired up her tablet, like any question was worth an answer. “Various, since they’re so transient, but currently, seventy-three.”

“So . . .” Irv heaved in a long breath. “If we all got together . . .”

“Like we just tried to do?” Rousseau said wearily. “And failed.”