Krage asked Shed, "Think he'll find anything this late in the winter? The weaklings have all died."

Shed shrugged. "I wouldn't know." He rubbed his left arm against his side. The knife's presence helped, but not much.

His terror peaked and began to recede. His mind cooled to an unemotional numbness. Fear in abeyance, he tried to find the unseen exit.

Again someone loomed out of the darkness, reported they were a hundred feet from Raven's wagon. Raven had gone into an alley ten minutes ago. He hadn't come out.

"He spot you?" Krage growled.

"I don't think so. But you never know."

Krage eyed Shed. "Shed, would he abandon his team and wagon?"

"How would I know?" Shed squeaked. "Maybe he found something."

"Let's take a look." They moved to the alley, one of countless dead-end breezeways opening off Chandler's Lane. Krage stared into the darkness, head canted slightly. "Quiet as the Catacombs. Check it out, Luke."

"Boss?"

"Take it easy, Luke. Old Shed is going to be right behind you. Won't you, Shed?"

"Krage. . . ."

"Move out!"

Shed shambled forward. Luke advanced cautiously, wicked knife probing the darkness. Shed tried to talk to him. "Shut up!" he snarled. "Don't you have a weapon?"

"No," Shed lied. He glanced back. It was just the two of them. They reached the dead end. No Raven. "I'll be damned," Luke said. "How did he get out?"

"I don't know. Let's find out." This might be his chance.

"Here we go," Luke said. "He climbed this downspout."

Shed's guts knotted. His throat tightened. "Give it a try. Maybe we can follow him,"

"Yeah." Luke started up.

Shed didn't think about it. The butcher knife materialized in his hand. His hand slammed forward. Luke arched back, dropped. Shed jumped on him, jammed a palm against his mouth, held on for the minute it took him to die. He backed away, unable to believe he'd done it. "What's going on back there?" Krage demanded. "Can't find anything," Shed yelled. He dragged Luke against a wall, buried him under trash and snow, ran to the down-spout.

Krage's approach made a marvelous incentive. He grunted, strained, popped a muscle, reached the roof. It consisted of a skirt two feet wide set at a shallow angle, then twelve feet rising at forty-five degrees, above which the roof was flat. Shed leaned against the steep slate, panting, still unable to believe that he had killed a man. He heard voices below, began moving sideways.

Someone snarled, "They're gone, Krage. No Raven. No Luke and no Shed, either."

"That bastard. I knew he was setting me up."

"Why did Luke go with him, then?"

"Hell, I don't know. Don't stand there. Look around They got out of here somehow."

"Hey. Over here. Somebody went up this spout. Maybe they're after Raven."

"Climb the damned thing. Find out. Luke! Shed!"

"Over here," a voice called. Shed froze. What the hell? Raven? Had to be Raven.

He inched along, trying to fake himself into believing there wasn't thirty-five feet of nothing behind his heels. He reached a ridged corner where he could clamber up to the flat top.