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slender neck, the fluttering eyelids in her too-often blink. Days-old weariness, offset by adrenaline. Or the quint. It was always tougher to read a Chemic. Three moved to the agent’s desk with a slight shrug.
    “Where’s the agent?” she asked.
    Three rummaged through the agent’s desk, and flicked his head to the corner where the agent lay. Cass glanced over, sighed heavily, disappointed.
    “You?”
    Three shook his head.
    “Your friend, Fedor. He was waiting when I got here.”
    Now Cass shook her head.
    “That isn’t Fedor. That’s Kostya.”
    Three gave Kostya another look. Eyes, cheekbone, jawline… even the hair was the same.
    “Clones?” asked Three.
    “Worse,” Cass replied. “Brothers… twins.”
    Three let out a deep breath, then went back to his work.
    “What’re you looking for?”
    Three held up his reply: the agent’s biometrically-sealed cashbox. Cass watched as he moved to the agent’s cool form, and swiped stiffening fingers across the panel. The box hissed open, and Three let out a low whistle. It was full of Hard.
    He ran a quick estimate. Twenty-five thousand, at least. Maybe thirty. Three counted out the three thousand he was due, unbuckled his vest, and secured the Hard inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cass lower her gaze to the floor.
    Three placed the cashbox on the little agent’s lap, and folded the old man’s hands over the top. He stood, and moved to the door. Cass didn’t look up.
    “What about the rest?” she asked, quietly.
    “This,” Three said, tapping his vest where the Hard was concealed, “is mine. And I’m no thief.”
    After a thought, he added, “But he sure doesn’t need it anymore.”
    Three saw her eyelids flutter, eyes darting quickly to the box and back. Yeah. She was thinking about it.
    “Why’d you come here?” Three asked.
    Cass looked up, bottom lip just barely catching her teeth again, almost too fast to notice.
    “I didn’t know where else to go.”
    Her eyes flicked to Kostya’s torn remains, then to the agent, then back to Three. He saw the despondency closing in now, the last traces of hope slipping away, the final slender thread of courage and will strained and twisting, just before surrender. Even with Fedor and Kostya no longer hounding her she had a hunted look, and trapped. Not the smoldering ferocity of a cornered animal, but the resignation of one wounded, seeing the way out, knowing it would never reach it.
    Ah. Kostya had been waiting here for her, not for him. Three felt relief, without realizing he’d been concerned about it before. Still…
    Three leaned his head outside the cube, checked on Wren where he sat cross-legged, pulling at a stray thread at the bottom of his too-thin jacket. He was going to need something warmer before much longer. Probably needed it now.
    “How many more of them are there?” Three asked, looking back and catching Cass’s eye again. She shrugged slightly, shaking her head. Three nodded.
    “OK.”
    He stepped out of the cube, and walked the length of the hall to the glass entryway, footsteps dull echoes in the stone corridor. Three gazed westward. The sun was disappearing out there, beyond the wall. He judged the distance.
    It would be close. But it was possible.
    “Get what you need,” Three called back down the long hall, without turning. “Then let’s go.”
    T he trio pressed through the alleyways, Three leading the woman and child along with a barely restrained urgency, like a wolfhound straining at its leash. She’d given up asking for explanations, or plans, or even for hints of where Three was leading them. She was out of options now, and they all knew it.
    Three hesitated at every corner, every intersection, every stretch of open and unprotected ground they had to cover, but never for long. Streets were emptying as residents headed indoors with the setting sun. The few that remained were quick to avert their gazes from his intensity.
    Finally, they reached their