, I thought as I touched her shoulder lightly.
'Here's where we split up, Blondie.'
She opened her eyes. 'What?'
'Head over to Auberge. I'll meet you at the Cafe of the Angels when I'm finished downstairs. Get a room at the Hotel Libya if I'm late.'
'No,' she said, 'I'm going with you.'
'Look, sister, I happen to have a contractual immunity to radiation-
You're not so blessed.'
'I-'
'You've got spunk. Just let a little common sense sink in.' I let the doors close. When I sighed, it sounded just like the aging motor that lowered us slowly down.
'Angel, there's a time to flex your self-confidence and a time to play it wise. Assassins are some of the most cautious people around. Always cross at the green after looking both ways and overhead.' I smiled. It didn't do any good.
'I'll guard your back.' Her gaze was as cold as the polar wind. Her hand whipped something out of her purse. It glinted even in the diffused elevator light. She held it up to me.
The blade was as long as my hand, double-edged and vehemently sharp. The rainbow-tempered steel narrowed to a nasty point at the tip. The smooth black hilt was contoured and intricately carved to provide a sure grip. She held it as if she knew when to use it, and how.
'What did you say your job is at the Bautista Corporation?'
'Assistant comptroller,' she said.
'Are your bookkeepers that difficult to keep in line?'
'The lady's got to protect herself. Lasers are too finicky, guns are too troublesome to maintain properly. Besides'- she lowered the knife-'there aren't many white knights around to save distressed damsels anymore.' She laughed. Her face glowed with life again, like the moon coming out from behind an eclipse.
'The lady with a dagger, eh? Where were you thirty years ago? You'd have made a great comrade-or enemy.' That did it. I was getting wistful. A sure sign of my dotage. I clammed up.
She looked embarrassed for a moment, then smiled as gently as a sea breeze at dawn. She slid the toadsticker back into its sheath in her handbag. It must have weighed half a kilo.
The elevator doors opened on the lobby-the farthest the car could descend. Some of Old Downtown's elite sprawled about the tattered chairs and piles of rags. The less drunken ones tried to argue about the recent inclement weather. Their conclusions were more elegant and metaphysical than mine, so I stopped listening and headed for the exit facing Flower. Ann followed.
'All right, sweetheart.' I stepped through a hole in one of the glass panels that served as the doorway. 'You're a free woman above the age of consent. I can see there's only one way to keep you from risking your neck-and I've never decked a woman before. Come on.'
That sounded good. I nodded toward the subway-style stairs down to the Plaza. I looked tough. The image satisfied me. No need to let her know that I was as scared as a little kid caught in a war zone. The part that bothered me was that I hadn't been drafted-I'd volunteered.
There were two entrances to the Plaza on Flower. The one nearer Sixth Street was still buried under the rubble from the South Tower. The one by North was only marginally more accessible-years of neglect had not made the way any safer. Winds had pushed dirt and trash down the stairs to fill the bottom to thigh height.
I switched on the Magna-Lite. A white oval of illumination spilled across the quadruple doors. The glass panel of one had been smashed long ago. A mound of rubbish flowed through it to form an alluvial fan inside the Plaza.
I wrapped my fingers around the exposed edge of the glass. The butt of my flashlight tapped firmly against it. A large piece broke away on the second try with no more than a loud snap. A few extra swings cleared an opening wide enough for me to step through.
'Careful,' I said in offering my hand to Ann. 'Scars aren't fashionable this year.'
