“Bad.” Olga’s smile warmed slightly. “Tired’n’bruised. But alive.” Her eyes tracked toward the nurse, who was fiddling with the drip mounted on the side of the bed, and Miriam nodded minutely. The back of her bed was raised and there was a huge dressing over her right shoulder. Alarming-looking drain tubes emerged from it, and a bunch of wires from under the neck of her hospital gown fed into some kind of mobile monitor on a trolley. It chirped occasionally. “Damn.” Half of her hair was missing, and there was another big dressing covering one side of her head, but no drain tubes—which, Miriam supposed, was a good sign. “This feels most strange.”

“I’ll bet it does,” Miriam said with some feeling. Wow, she thought, thinking about Brill’s first reaction to New York, she’s handling it well. “Did they find whoever did it?”

“I’m told not.” Olga glanced at the nurse again, who glanced back sternly and straightened up.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” she announced brightly. “Remember, no food or drink! And don’t tire her out. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; if you need me before then, use the buzzer.”

Miriam, Brill, and Olga watched her departure with relief. “Strange fashions here,” Olga murmured. “Strange buildings. Strange everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Miriam glanced at the drip, the monitoring gear, everything else. Cable TV, a private bathroom, and a vase with flowers in it. Compared to the care Olga would receive in the drafty palace on the other side, this was the very lap of luxury. “What happened?”

“Ack.” Olga coughed. “I was in your, your room. Asleep. He appeared out of nowhere and shot…well.” She shifted slightly. “Why doesn’t it hurt more?” she asked, sounding puzzled. “He shot at me, but I am a light sleeper. I was already sitting up. And I sleep with my pistol under my pillow.” Her smile widened.

Miriam shook her head. “Did he get away?” she asked. “If not, did you get his locket?”

“I wondered when you would ask.” Olga closed her eyes. “Managed to grab it before they found me. It’s in the drawer there.”

She didn’t point at the small chest of drawers, but Miriam figured it out. Before she could blink, Brill had the top drawer open and lifted out a chain with a disk hanging from it. “Give me,” said Miriam.

“Yeah?” Brill raised an eyebrow, but passed it to her all the same.

“Hmm.” Miriam glanced at it, felt a familiar warning dizziness, and glanced away. Then she pulled back a cuff and looked at the inside of her right wrist. The same. “Same as the bastard who killed Margit. Exactly the same. While the other bunch of heavies who tried to roll us over at the same time didn’t have any lockets. At all.”

“Thought so,” murmured Olga.

“Listen, they’re after us both,” said Miriam. “Olga?”