“Oh yes. He gave us a very accurate physical description—though the attacker wore a balaclava. Right size and build. Right description of how he moved. And the attacker had a white combat dog in next-gen body armor. The dog had metal teeth.”

“Ah. And what did this unfortunate person have to say?”

“He admitted that he gave Ledger some names. We’re staking out those places now.”

“What was this man involved in?”

“That’s the odd part,” said Lilith, “he was rambling a bit. Screaming, really. And he kept referring to two things. Some kind of drug or drug treatment called R-33, and some upcoming event he knew only as the ‘American Operation.’”

“Did he have any details about what this American Operation might be?”

“Nothing specific, alas,” she said, “but he said it was—and I quote—‘what we’re all working on.’ We’ve been wondering what Kuga’s next big play is going to be, and I think this is our first true whiff.”

CHAPTER 43

CIVITELLA IN VAL DI CHIANA

AREZZO, TUSCANY, ITALY

The man sat on a bench in a park on a street he couldn’t name.

The park was in shadows except for a few lights along the wandering stone pathway. The man’s dog lay on the bench with his head on the man’s lap. They’d been like that for more than two hours.

The man watched nothing. His eyes were out of focus. The world was a gray-green blur of inconsequential colors. His fingers flexed open and closed, massaging the ruff of the dog’s neck. He did not remember washing the blood off his hand. Or off the dog’s coat, for that matter. He didn’t remember changing back into civilian clothes. So many things lately were blurred out of his consciousness.

He knew he should be afraid of that.

Of that he was certain.

When a voice spoke behind him, the man snapped to full awareness. But he did not turn around.

“I have to say, Joey,” said the voice, “I’m getting worried about how you’re handling things.”

The voice was warm, mature, and familiar. So familiar.

“You’re leaning way out over that edge, son.”

“Go away,” said the man.

“I already went away. You know that, Joey.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s your name.”

“That’s what you called me when I was a little kid.”

The man chuckled softly. “Well, you’re always going to be my little boy, Joey. Always and forever.”

“You’re not real.”

“And yet here you are talking to me.”

“I’m … I…”

“Go ahead, take your time. Say what you need to say.”

“There’s something wrong with me.”