“Hello again, Antoni.” The three silver stars on each of his epaulets twinkle howdy, but it’s no good.

“I don’t know you.” To the Springer: “All right. It’s in the engine room. Starboard side, down behind the generator,” which is Slothrop’s cue to leave.

At the bottom of the ladder he meets Stefania coming along the passageway. “Hi. Sorry we have to meet again this way.”

“Hello, I’m Stefania,” shuttering a fast smile as she passes, “there’s liquor next deck up, enjoy yourself,” already gone, out in the rain. What?

Slothrop steps down through a hatchway, starts to climb down toward the engineering spaces. Somewhere above him three bells strike, slowly, a little hollow, with a slight echo. It’s late… late. He remembers where he is.

Just as he touches the deck, all the lights go out. Air blowers whine down to stillness. The engine room is down one more deck. Will he have to do this in the dark?

“I can’t,” out loud.

“You can,” replies a voice close to his ear. He can feel its breath. He is smashed expertly at the base of the neck. Light loops through the pitch dark. His left arm has gone numb. “I’ll leave you the other one,” the voice whispers, “for climbing down to the engine room.”

“Wait—” It feels like the pointed toe of a dancing-pump, in out of nowhere to hover a second and stroke the soft underside of his chin—then it flicks up, slamming his teeth shut on his tongue.

The pain is awful. He tastes blood. Sweat gathers next to his eyes.

“Move, now.” When he hesitates he is pinched on the back of the neck. Oh, it hurts… he holds to the ladder, night-blind, starting to cry… then he thinks of the Luger, but before he can get to it he’s been kicked viciously between hip and groin. The gun falls to the steel deck. Slothrop is down on one knee, groping, when the shoe descends lightly on his fingers. “You will need this hand for holding on to the ladder, remember? Remember?” Then the shoe is lifted, but only to kick him under the armpit. “Up, up.”

Slothrop gropes to the next ladder, makes his stiff one-armed way down onto it. He feels the steel hatch-opening rise around him. “Don’t try to come back up till you’ve done what you have to do.”

“Thanatz?” Slothrop’s tongue hurts. The name comes out clumsily. Silence. “Morituri?” No answer. Slothrop moves one foot up one rung.

“No, no. I’m still here.”