T.K. pushes the rifle in harder. “Wrong. At the beginning of this quarter, you were parked six stories up in that apartment house on Temple. The only way you could have known I was in here was if somebody told you I was in here. Told you through a little receiver you’ve got buried in your head.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” D’Amato raises his hand solicitously, and, in the same motion, yanks at the rifle.

T.K. is one step ahead. He pulls the rifle back out of reach, then swings it through the air, catching D’Amato’s helmet with the barrel. D’Amato’s head recoils backwards and bounces off a urinal flush plate. His helmet strap, which he loosened when he came indoors, breaks open. His helmet falls off, giving T.K. the opportunity to hit him again, this time directly on the side of the head.

Dragging himself upright, T.K. leaves the rest room, D’Amato’s rifle in his hand. “Hey, ref,” he says to his referee. “My hidden safety had an accident in there. Tripped and fell down. Get my mediman out here to red-cross him.” He heads for the street, remembers something and half turns. “Oh, and, ref, I’m declaring myself a hidden safety.” As the only combative member of his team left, he may assign himself to any position. He will have to remain at that position for the remainder of the play. He can, if he so desires, change to something else at the start of the next play. Assuming, as seems highly unlikely at this point, there is a next play.

He reels out into the street, making straight for the goalyard.

Under normal circumstances, he would never expect to make it there ahead of Matision. The situation in this game is far from normal. IBC has to get rid of him. He’s injured, weakened and may collapse at any moment. If he’s red-crossed, Matision can’t touch him. They have to take him now.

As he suspected, he hasn’t gone two blocks toward the goalyard before he hears footsteps crunching in the snowdrifts behind him. He breaks into a jog; the footsteps match his pace precisely. He wheels around. There’s no one there. Again he moves. Again the footsteps follow, playing a game with him, a deadly version of hide-and-seek, attempting to wear him down so he’ll be that much easier for Matision to handle.