“Here is what I’ve come to believe,” Callahan said, leaning forward. “There is a loose league of association between the vampires and the low men. I think if you traced it back, you’d find the roots of their association in the dark land. In Thunderclap.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Roland said. His blue eyes flashed out of his pale and tired face.

“The vampires—those who aren’t Type Ones—are stupid. The low men are smarter, but not by a whole lot. Otherwise I never would have been able to escape them for as long as I did. But then—finally—someone else took an interest. An agent of the Crimson King, I should think, whoever or whatever he is. The low men were drawn away from me. So were the vampires. There were no posters during those last months, not that I saw; no chalked messages on the sidewalks of West Fort Street or Jefferson Avenue, either. Someone giving the orders, that’s what I think. Someone a good deal smarter. And a million dollars!” He shook his head. A small and bitter smile touched his face. “In the end, that was what blinded me. Nothing but money. ‘Oh yes, but it’s to do good!’ I told myself…and we told each other, of course. ‘It’ll keep us independent for at least five years! No more going to the Detroit City Council, begging with our hats in our hands!’ All true. It didn’t occur to me until later that there’s another truth, very simple: greed in a good cause is still greed.”

“What happened?” Eddie asked.

“Why, we kept our appointment,” the Pere said. His face wore a rather ghastly smile. “The Tishman Building, 982 Michigan Avenue, one of the finest business addresses in the D. December 19th, 4:20 P.M. ”

“Odd time for an appointment,” Susannah said.

“We thought so, too, but who questions such minor matters with a million dollars at stake? After some discussion, we agreed with Al—or rather Al’s mother. According to her, one should show up for important appointments five minutes early, no more and no less. So we walked into the lobby of the Tishman Building at 4:10 P.M. , dressed in our best, found Sombra Corporation on the directory board, and went on up to the thirty-third floor.”

“Had you checked this corporation out?” Eddie asked.

Callahan looked at him as if to say duh . “According to what we could find in the library, Sombra was a closed corporation—no public stock issue, in other words—that mostly bought other companies. They specialized in high-tech stuff, real estate, and construction. That seemed to be all anyone knew. Assets were a closely guarded secret.”

“Incorporated in the U.S.?” Susannah asked.

“No. Nassau, the Bahamas.”