“We got in touch with the family,” the Angel said. “They’re coming in to claim possession of the body.”

Lonnegan nodded. “At least they have that.”

“At least,” the Angel agreed. “Others—Father Squid—who knows who else?—are still missing.”

“The jokers are telling their stories,” Stevens said.

“Who ordered them held incommunicado?” Ray asked.

Lonnegan and Stevens exchanged glances.

“Mendelberg,” Stevens said.

“Why?” Ray asked loud enough to draw a glance from a passing cop.

“We don’t know. Maseryk’s pissed,” Stevens said. He looked worried. “I hope he’s not in on—”

He shut his mouth, suddenly.

“On what?” Ray asked, his voice suddenly smooth as silk.

Lonnegan and Stevens exchanged glances again.

“Whatever the hell that’s been going on in the precinct,” Lonnegan said frankly. “Mendelberg is gone. Took off mid-shift. No one knows why.”

Ray nodded. “Someone call her residence?”

“Several someones,” Lonnegan said, “including Maseryk. He wants me to check out her residence.”

“That’s a start,” Ray said. “Why don’t you take Angel with you?” He turned an eye, suddenly frowning. “I’ll take the kid here and he can introduce me to the intricacies of the precinct house. There’s some stuff I’d like to check up on. Some interrogations I’d like to observe.”

“Uh,” Stevens said.

Lonnegan nodded judiciously. “Good idea.”

“What about Maseryk?” Stevens asked.

“You let me worry about Maseryk,” Ray said. He turned to the Angel. “Be careful,” he said. “Now we got teleporters involved, Kazakh gunmen, and God alone knows what the fuck else will turn up next.”

“You too,” the Angel said. She wanted to kiss him, even briefly, and she knew Billy knew it, but he smiled his somewhat crooked smile, and gripped her hand, warmly, briefly.

He looked to Lonnegan, nodded, and said crisply, “Good luck.” She nodded back and he turned and took the steps at a methodical jog, Stevens following in his wake.

“Come on,” Joan said to the Angel. She gestured with her head in the direction opposite to the one the boys had gone. “Let’s go get my car.”

“And then?” the Angel asked, falling in step. They were of a height, the Angel fractionally taller, and they matched strides, walking fast.

“We find Mendelberg.”

“If she’s really not at home?”

“We hope we don’t find her body.”

The Angel had to agree. They walked on, reaching a busier street and getting glances and the occasional catcall from the cheekier onlookers and passersby, as was not uncommon in the city, not even Jokertown.

“A girl hanging out with you could get a complex pretty quickly,” Razor Joan commented.

The Angel glanced at her, looked away. “You’re very pretty yourself.”

Lonnegan unself-consciously ran a hand through her long blond hair. “I do all right,” she said. “But you look like a young Sophia Loren, Jesus Christ, look at you—”

“Don’t—” the Angel began automatically, then cut herself off. She wasn’t sure why. It was hard for her, talking like this with another woman.

“Don’t what?” Lonnegan asked. Her expression was quizzical, almost innocently.