“Z told me. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m damned sorry to hear that. We had our differences, but Dwayne was a friend once.” Harbinger still didn’t seem convinced. He was not the sort of man to farm out his revenge to somebody else.

“Give me a few days. If Stricken’s not dead by then, do whatever you want.”

Harbinger sat on the edge of the slab next to him. “I’m having a real hard time thinking clearly on this one, Franks.”

“I did hit you on the head a lot.”

“Naw. It’s hard to make good command decisions when you’ve got a personal grudge, and I’ve got a personal grudge a mile wide. I care about Heather and that’s making me angry, and anger makes me do rash things. You won’t get it, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way about anyone. I’d gotten used to everybody getting old and dying around me while I stayed the same. That makes command decisions a lot easier to bear. We’re the same that way, you and me, but I was a regular man once. I don’t know . . . Heather made me feel like I was that man again. I can’t lose her, Franks.”

It was odd, having an actual conversation with Harbinger. Franks felt like they should be drinking beers or something.

Harbinger glanced down at Franks. “Shit. Listen to me, confiding in you. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t care about anybody. You don’t have anyone. You don’t have loved ones or family—”

“I have a son . . .” Franks muttered.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Franks still wasn’t sure how he felt about that revelation. A human would feel proud, or attached, or something. “I understand the desire to protect your own. Avenge Kerkonen and you destroy everyone else you love.”

“Well, how about that . . . Words of wisdom from the pile of parts.” Harbinger finished off his cigarette, then ground it out on the slab next to Franks’ ear. The place was still more sanitary an operating room than the truck stop he’d performed Agent Strayhorn’s liver transplant in. “Julie said you came here to get some demon tracker you saw last time you were downstairs. I know the thing she’s talking about. I picked it up on a contract job in Ethiopia a long time back. Never could get it to work right anyway. I think it’s busted. You can have it. You’ve got forty-eight hours, Franks, and the clock starts the minute Milo throws you off this table. I’m going to be using that time putting together a plan to mess up Stricken’s little kingdom.”

“That will do.”

“You’ll need help.”

He thought about the interrogator’s cryptic message. “I’ll have enough.”