“Look at me,” Lonnegan ordered. “Your pal is safe and sound. We can take you to him.”

The hit man tried to spit, but nothing materialized out of his only somewhat substantial mouth.

“Useless, unnatural woman.” He leaned toward Lonnegan, now floating an inch or two off the floor. “This goddamned country is full of them.”

“You drop your guns,” Lonnegan said, “and we’ll take you to Andrei.”

A crafty gleam came into his bulging eyes. “Of course.”

“You try to trick us,” Lonnegan warned, “and you’ll never see Andrei again. I’ll track your ass down and make sure you spend the rest of your life in some Siberian ice cave.”

“Nothing can hold me.” He drifted toward Lonnegan like a drunken ghost, the gun in his right hand, still insubstantial, pointing right at her. “But first, before I go see my beloved Andrei, I kill the bitch who put him in the hospital.”

He whirled, solidifying his body and his weapons, but Lonnegan had kept his attention long enough for the Angel, as silent as a ghost herself, to release her sword and drift across the thick carpet until she was close enough to grab his wrists. She forced one arm up and one down. The hit man yelped and squeezed off two shots, one into the ceiling and one into the floor. Both fortunately flew off harmlessly, startling but missing those in the apartments above and below Mendelberg’s.

She twisted his wrists. Two cracks came simultaneously. The Russian howled and dropped both weapons. She head-butted the Russian into oblivion before he could focus to fade out. She looked at Lonnegan and nodded. The cop nodded back.

Mendelberg made a strangled noise and collapsed to the carpet in the open doorway where she stood. Her body was shaking all over and the Angel could see frothy bubbles running down the side of her chin.

“She’s having a seizure,” the Angel cried, and rushed to the captain’s side. As gently as she could, she pushed her gauntleted hand between Mendelberg’s jaws. Lonnegan joined her, holding her neck so that she couldn’t bash her head. Fortunately, the thick carpeting had so far prevented any serious damage. Her heels tattooed the floor.

There was a commotion in the open doorway. Maseryk burst into the apartment, glaring, pistol out.

“Freeze!” he shouted, and looked around uncomprehendingly.

Ray strolled into the room, accompanied by a gaggle of other cops.

“How’s it going, Angel?” he asked.

“Fine, Billy. Just fine.”

“Of course it is,” he said. He glanced around.

“Hey,” said Michael Stevens, “I’m bleeding over here.”

Nothing had been resolved by the time Wally left to pick up Ghost, and Joey headed out to pick up dinner. And no doubt to pick up a couple of toe tags as well.