“Day ends with a Y,” said Top sourly.

The people down there suddenly all looked up. Whether drawn by the sound of our voices or driven by some chemical force, it was hard to say. They glared at us. They bared their teeth.

And with a mingled howl of murderous joy, they charged up the stairs.

CHAPTER 9

THE PLAYROOM

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

NEAR VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA

SIX DAYS AGO

“Do you have it?”

Mr. Sunday stood beside his car, his face in dense shadows thrown by a massive old pine tree. The sunlight was so bright and the shadows so dark that the dividing line between made the salesman look as if he were cut in half.

Kuga did not offer to shake hands. Neither did Sunday. It wasn’t that kind of moment.

“I got it,” said Kuga, holding up a thick padded envelope.

“Blood and hair?”

“Took some doing. We had to get it from an Oslo evidence locker. Not easy and not cheap.”

“The effort will be worth it,” said Sunday.

Kuga did not immediately hand over the envelope. “You know, man, this is some real spooky shit right here. This whole thing…?”

“Yes?”

“How do I know you’re not just running some kind of weird psycho head trip on me?”

“You can’t know either way,” said Sunday. Although Kuga couldn’t see the big smile, with all that darkness, he could feel it. That awareness gave him the creeps.

“Shit.”

“There’s still time to back out,” said Sunday. “Just throw that envelope away and forget we ever had this meeting.”

Kuga looked at the envelope, at the shadows, and up into the sky. It was blue overhead, but a storm front was troubling the horizon and there were flocks of black birds—ragged-looking crows or starlings—flying toward those clouds. He didn’t like the way that made him feel.

He sighed heavily and held out the envelope. A pale hand reached out of the shadows and plucked it from his fingers. The envelope vanished into the shadows, and Kuga heard the seal rip open.

“This will be fun,” said Mr. Sunday, though for just a moment his voice sounded different. Rougher, stranger, with a different accent—not Southern but foreign. Italian? And it was a much, much older voice.

Sunday got into his car, keeping his face turned away from Kuga, who stood watching as the car backed up, turned, and drove in the same direction as the black birds.

CHAPTER 10

TRSTENIK ISLAND

CROATIA

Top and I opened fire as we began walking down the stairs. Sandman did its work, dropping them one after another. I heard Bunny’s heavy steps on the stairs behind me, and Andrea’s lighter footfalls. Ghost stood on the stairs and barked. Had I told him to stay back? I couldn’t remember. Or maybe he had been in enough biohazardous situations by now to follow his own wisdom.