Though how the Dancer’d found out that Percey and Brit were at the safe house and what its address was remained a mystery.

Five minutes ago two ESU officers had found a broken window on the first floor of the office building. The Dancer’d shunned the open front door but had still moved in for the assault on the safe house through the alley just as Rhyme had predicted. But something had spooked him. He was loose in the building and they had no idea where. A poisonous snake in a dark room. Where was he, what was he planning?

Too many ways to die . . .

“He wouldn’t wait,” Rhyme muttered. “It’s too risky.” He was growing frantic.

An agent called in, “Nothing on the first floor. We’re still making our rounds.”

Five minutes passed. Guards checked in with negative reports but all Rhyme really heard was the static rustling in his headset.

Jodie answered, “Who doesn’t wanna make money? But I don’t know doing what.”

“Help me get out of here.”

“I mean, what’re you doing here? Are they looking for you?”

Stephen looked the sad little man up and down. A loser, but not crazy or stupid. Stephen decided it was best tactically to be honest. Besides, the man’d be dead in a few hours anyway.

He said, “I’ve come here to kill somebody.”

“Whoa. Like, are you in the Mafia or something? Who’re you gonna kill?”

“Jodie, be quiet. We’re in a tough situation here.”

“We? I didn’t do anything.”

“Except you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Stephen said. “And that’s too bad, but you’re in the same situation I am because they want me and they aren’t going to believe you’re not with me. Now, you gonna help me or not? All I’ve got time for is yes or no.”

Jodie tried not to look scared, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Yes. Or. No.”

“I don’t want to get hurt.”

“If you’re on my side you’ll never get hurt. One thing I’m good at is making sure who gets hurt and who doesn’t.”

“And you’ll pay me? Money? Not a check.”

Stephen had to laugh. “Not a check. No. Cash.”

The jelly beans of eyes were considering something. “How much?”

The little crud was negotiating.

“Five thousand.”

The fear remained in the eyes but it was pushed aside by shock. “For real? You’re not shitting me?”

“No.”

“What if I get you out and you kill me so you don’t have to pay?”

Stephen laughed again. “I’m getting paid a lot more than that. Five’s nothing to me. Anyway, if we get out of here I could use your help again.”

“I—”

A sound in the distance. Footsteps coming closer.

It was the S&S cop, looking for him.

Just one, Stephen could tell, listening to the steps. Made sense. They’d be expecting him to go for the first-floor office with the open window, where Lincoln the Worm would’ve stationed most of the troopers.