Chevie draped her arm around his shoulder, moving close for warmth. “No. We had to come.” Chevie remembered the question she had been meaning to ask Riley for the past few hours. “Tell me something, Riley. Did you knock over the Farspeak on purpose?”

Riley stopped himself from shivering long enough to answer. “Yes. Charismo handed us the rope to hang him.”

“Yes,” agreed Chevie. “That guy talked too much.”

“He had my poor mum killed,” said Riley, sniffing. “And my dad—he was one of your lot.”

“I know,” said Chevie. “Special Agent William Riley. I read his file. He was quite a boxer. Before he disappeared, he was known for having fast hands.”

“I have fast hands. Garrick said he never seen hands faster.”

“We will need your hands, and your wits, if we are to defeat Garrick.”

Riley huddled close for warmth and so that his nose would register Chevie’s healthy odors rather than his rank surroundings.

“But what do we have to work with? Everything’s gone. Even the Timekey.”

“Sharp’s key is gone,” admitted Chevie. “But I have another one.”

She reached down the leg of her riding boot and tugged out a Timekey by the lanyard.

“Charismo’s,” guessed Riley. “You took it when you lifted his ring?”

“I did take it, but it’s not Charismo’s.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “My dad’s. Bill Riley’s key.”

“That’s right,” said Chevie, passing the key to Riley. “Your dad is still watching over you.”

This notion seemed to give Riley comfort and determination.

“We must use our time in this dreadful place to plot. We cannot take Garrick in a straight brawl.”

Chevie grunted, staring straight ahead. “Maybe not, but there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

“Shhh,” warned Riley. “Else people will believe that there’s a cat in here; then we will have dinner guests.”

Chevie groaned. “Cats? People here eat cats?”

Riley nodded. “If you let them, they would eat your boots.” “We have so got to get out of here.”

“We will,” said Riley. “You saved me in your world. Now I will save you in mine.”

This was not simply idle babble. Riley clasped his own father’s Timekey to his chest and judged it a good omen. Now they had hope. Now they had something to build a plan around.

You taught me well, Albert Garrick, thought Riley, seeing the assassin’s face in his mind’s eye. Now we must see if your own lessons can be turned against you.

In spite of the wretchedness of their surroundings and the constant assault on their senses, Chevie and Riley somehow managed to drop into a fitful sleep for a few hours.