“I know all about you. You’re a crooked gambler who hooked up with Cain on Port étrange and left him on Altair Three. You have nothing that I want.”

Virtue turned to Terwilliger. “Sorry,” she said.

“Now just a minute!” he shouted, drawing stares from all over the lobby. “We had a deal! I kept my end of it. Now he’s got to protect me!”

“Any deal you made, you made with her,” said the Angel in level tones.

“No!” said Terwilliger desperately. “I need you!”

The Angel stared at him silently.

“Don’t you understand?” said Terwilliger. “ManMountain Bates is coming here to kill me!”

“Not without cause, or so I’ve been told,” said the Angel.

The gambler turned to Virtue. “You get him to protect me, or I’ll tell him what you had me do.”

“He might be useful to us, after all,” said Virtue carefully.

“I gather he’s already been useful to you,” replied the Angel dryly. “He is of absolutely no use to me.”

“I can tell you things about Cain,” said Terwilliger urgently. “Where he’s been, where he’s going, things like that.”

“I already know where he’s been and where he’s going.”

“I can tell you where Santiago is!”

“You don’t know where Santiago is,” replied the Angel. “Now go away.”

“But I—”

Suddenly Terwilliger froze, his eyes fixed on the hotel’s doorway. There was an awed murmuring throughout the lobby, and Virtue and the Angel turned to see the cause of the commotion.

Standing just outside the door was a huge mountain of a man. His shaggy brown mane swirled down to his shoulders, his teeth gleamed white through his thick beard, and his blue eyes glared balefully at Halfpenny Terwilliger. He was dressed in a handmade outfit composed entirely of the cured pelts of animals he had killed with his bare hands, and his boots, except for the steel heels, were also made of animal skins.

“I want you!” bellowed ManMountain Bates, pointing his finger at Terwilliger.

The desk clerk quickly touched his computer panel, and the thick front door slid shut.

“You’ve got to help me!” pleaded Terwilliger.

“You got yourself into this situation,” said the Angel. “Get yourself out.”

Terwilliger began cursing in frustration and terror, his eyes glued to the door. There was a sudden thudding noise, which was repeated at regular intervals of about five seconds apiece, and he knew that ManMountain Bates was attempting to hammer the door down with his fists.

“Can’t you do something?” asked Virtue.

“There’s no paper on him,” replied the Angel emotionlessly.

The door began buckling, and a moment later it caved in entirely. The customers and staff scuttled for positions of safety as Bates entered the room.