In a sweet slow motion, Lorlo went to the door.

"Piss off."

"Mr. Mulley. There's a fax."

"It can wait."

"No, Mr. Mulley. Please, Mr. Mulley. You'd better come and see."

"You fucking mouse turd. I said—"

"Please, Mr. Mulley. It's from Manchester."

Lorlo opened the door. Honey stood there, dismayed.

"All right. This had better be good."

But it had come from Manchester. Nothing from there could be ignored. Honey was right, sod him.

Lorlo was peevish. His mood was being spoiled.

The girl had gone into the bathroom and he had heard the splash of water. He put on the Sinatra record, tenderly. Gentled by his high, he wished he could find a girl who would appreciate Ol' Blue Eyes. They had no musical taste. Perhaps, Ruth…

She would be hot. He knew it. Once he got her going.

But now this.

Lorlo walked over the acres of white carpet. A slight leadenness was building in his gut.

Manchester—

He reached the fax and looked down at the printout neither Frankie nor Honey had had the temerity to pluck.

On it, in gray and milk dots, was Ruth's face. It was exact. Lorlo stared, bemused, his body trying to catch up.

Under the image were a few lines of prose.

White girl, hair black and long, eyes black, height approximately five feet two inches, weight between six-ten and seven stone. Age twelve years and some months. Name Ruth.

Below this were just four words:

MULLEY. LET HER GO.

"Shit," said Lorlo. "Oh, shit."

He backed along the carpet. Then he came to Honey, and clutched at him.

"I didn't know."

"No, Mr. Mulley. We none of us—"

"I didn't know. They won't believe that." And then. "I got to get her out. Out."

By the time he reached the door, Lorlo had a sort of control of himself. He opened it, and went in, casually.

Ruth had come from the bathroom. She was standing by the bed. She looked bizarre, because she had wrapped herself, head to foot, in the skins of leopards. It seemed to him that this was only part of the whole. This was as it had to be.

"Doll," said Lorlo, nicely, "there's been a change of plan. Got to let you go. All right?"

Honey was in the door, and behind him was Frankie. They both looked scared.

"Now, babe," said Lorlo to Ruth, "nothing happened, did it? Didn't hurt you, did I?"

Cowled in leopardskin, a feline nun, Ruth said softly, "No."

"That's good, good, Ruth. Just a bit of fun." Lorlo laughed. He walked to the music center and shut off Sinatra. "You can go now. Wherever you want. And Ruth, I want you to know, if there's anything I can do—just ask."

Ruth looked by him, to Frankie and Honey.

Lorlo said quickly, "And the boys, Ruth. We're at your service, babe. Where do you want to go? Frankie'll drive you in the Merc."