“Harry?” she asked, as I came down the last few steps.

“Who else would I be?” I asked. “Except that jerk Grey, except he’s too busy being Harvey to be me.” I took another paper bag from Burger King and plopped it down in front of Karrin, then dumped the loaded duffel I’d picked up from a military surplus store off where it hung over my shoulder. “Figured you might be hungry.”

She eyed the fast-food bag. “I’m not sure I’m that hungry.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there, Annie Oakley. You did not just say that,” I said. “Not right to my face.”

A slow smile spread over her mouth and reached her eyes. “Harry.”

“I . . .” I exhaled. The talk with Michael had made me feel about twenty tons lighter, at least on the inside. “Yeah. I guess maybe it is.” I felt my own smile fade. “Harvey’s dead.”

Her face sobered and her eyes raked over me, stopping on my arm. “What happened?”

“Polonius Lartessa showed up with a squad of soldier-ghouls and whacked him,” I said. “Unless maybe it was Deirdre who did it. Or Grey. I had ghouls all over my face when it happened.”

“Who took care of your arm for you?”

“A good man,” I said.

She stared at me for a moment and then her eyebrows lifted. “Oh,” she said. Her eyes glittered. “Oh. That explains some things, then.”

“Yeah,” I said, bouncing my weight lightly on my toes. “The point being, someone’s trying to screw with the job before we even get going.”

“What a crime,” Karrin said.

I grunted. “If Tessa’s trying to stop Nicodemus, I’ve got to wonder why.”

“She’s married to him?” she suggested drily.

“That’s vengeance-worthy, all right,” I said. “But . . . I don’t know. I hate working in the dark.”

“So what’s the move?”

I chewed my lip and said, “Nothing’s changed for us. Except . . .”

“Except what?” she asked.

“Except someone’s going down for Harvey before this is done,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I can get behind that.”

I took a long look at the table. “Uzis,” I noted.

“They’re a classic,” Karrin said. “Simple, reliable, durable, and not assault rifles.”

That was good for the innocent bystanders of Chicago. Pistol ammunition wasn’t nearly as good at flying through an extraneous wall or ten and killing some poor sap sitting in his apartment two blocks away. Which wasn’t to say that they weren’t insanely dangerous—just less so than a bunch of AK-47s would have been. Nicodemus wasn’t doing that to be thoughtful.Either he’d bought what was available, or else he had a reason to cause only limited collateral damage.

“Can Binder’s goons handle them?” she asked.

“I assume so,” I said. “They seemed to take to guns pretty easily the last time. Check with Binder on it.”

“Check with Binder on what?” asked Binder, appearing from farther down the factory floor. He was carrying a sandwich in one hand, a cup of what might have been tea in the other.

“Speak of the devil and he appears,” I said.

Binder sketched me a courtly little bow, rolling his sandwich as he did.

“Your . . . people,” Karrin said. “Do they know how to handle an Uzi or do they need some kind of orientation?”

“They’ll be fine,” he said, his tone confident, even cocky. “Don’t ask them to fieldstrip and repair one, or for witty banter before they shoot, but for trigger work or reloading they’re golden.” His sharp, beady little eyes landed on my arm in its splint. “Does someone not know how to play well with others?”

His eyes went from me to start flicking around the slaughterhouse. I could all but see the calculation going on in his head. One Harry, no Deirdre, no Grey.

“They’re fine,” I said. “We ran into some opposition around the accountant.”

“Bookmark,” Binder said, holding up two fingers. He turned and retreated, wolfing down his sandwich, and returned a moment later with Hannah Ascher in tow. Ascher had ditched her sweater in favor of a tank top, and she looked as if she’d just come off a treadmill. She was breathing lightly and her skin was sheened with sweat. There were bits of ash stuck in the fine hairs of her forearms and smudging one cheek. Like every other look I’d seen on her, it was an awfully intriguing one—easily translated to let a fellow imagine what she might look like during . . .

“Right, then,” Binder said. “Resume.”

“We staked out the accountant,” I said. “Nicodemus’s wife showed up with a crew of ghouls and went after him. The accountant was killed.”

“The wife did it?” Ascher asked.

“Women,” Binder said scornfully.

Karrin and Ascher both eyed him.

He folded his arms. “I’m a century older than any of you sprats,” he said. “I’ll stand by that.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t kill Harvey,” I said. “My gut says it wasn’t Grey. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Eh?” Binder said, nodding toward me conspiratorially. “Women.”

Karrin gave me a very level look.

I coughed. “The female of the species is deadlier than the male?”