That's all they get.

On the promenade he walked down a corridor that led to several small fast-food restaurants. The excitement had left Gladden famished and he went into one of these places for a slice of pizza and a soda. As he waited for the girl to warm up the pizza in the oven, he thought of the girl on the carousel and wished he hadn't cleared the camera. But how could he know he'd so easily slip away?

"I should have known" he said angrily out loud. Then he looked around to make sure the girl behind the counter hadn't noticed. He studied her for a moment and found her unattractive. She was too old. She could practically have children herself As he watched, she used her fingers to gingerly pull the slice of pizza out of the oven and onto a paper plate. She licked her fingers afterward-she had burned them-and put Gladden's meal on the counter. He took it back to his table but didn't eat it. He didn't like other people touching his food.

Gladden wondered how long he would have to wait until it was safe to go back down to the beach and get the car.

Good thing it was in an overnight lot. Just in case. No matter what, they must not get to his car. If they got to his car, they would open the trunk and get his computer. If they got that, they would never let him go.

The more he thought about the episode with the cops, the angrier he became. The carousel was now lost to him. He couldn't go back. At least not for a long time. He'd have to put out a message to the others on the network. He still couldn't figure out how it had happened. His mind bounced along the possibilities, even considering someone on the net, but then the ball stopped on the woman who took the tickets. She must have made the complaint.

She was the only one who saw him each of the days. It was her.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. In his mind he was at the carousel, approaching the ticket taker. He had his knife. He was going to teach her a lesson about minding her own business. She thought she could justHe sensed someone's presence. Someone was looking at him.

Gladden opened his eyes. The two cops from the pier were standing there. The man, drenched in sweat, raised his hand and signaled Gladden to stand up.

"Get up, asshole."

The two cops said nothing of value to Gladden on the way in. They had taken the duffel bag, searched him, handcuffed him and told him he was under arrest but they refused to say what for. They took his cigarettes and wallet.

The camera was the only thing he cared about. Luckily, he hadn't brought his books with him this time.

Gladden considered what was in the wallet. None of it mattered, he decided. The Alabama license identified him as Harold Brisbane. He had gotten it through the network, trading photos for IDs. He had another ID in the car and he'd kiss Harold Brisbane good-bye as soon as he got out of custody.