Shanahan woke the next day. He looked at the empty bottle on floor next to the shutter door. He would have another one if Wyndham came through with his pay. He might splurge and buy two if he had enough money.

He dressed and opened the shutter. He didn't know how Wyndham tracked him, but he didn't want her showing up at his alley looking for his squat. He would rather meet her on the street away from his place.

He knew that it wouldn't feel like much to someone else, but it was his, and he wanted to keep it to himself. He didn't want someone else looking at his place and shaking their head at the way he was living.

He climbed out of his bolthole. He closed it up, and pushed the dumpster back on top of it. He decided that he should get breakfast first before he started looking for Wyndham. There was no telling when she would show up with his money. A full stomach would make dealing with her that much easier in his opinion.

And if she showed up during breakfast, he could ask her to pay for breakfast out of courtesy. He doubted she would refuse. She tended to eat with him if she caught him during a meal. He didn't mind that when he would move away from another person without telling them he wanted to be alone.

Wyndham just took his sourness in stride like someone who had a dog that chewed up their shoes.

Shanahan walked down to a little place that served strange mixes of coffee and bagels. He decided that he could get one of their combinations before looping through the neighborhood and seeing if there was anybody he could rob if he needed money.

He wondered if he would see her at all today. She still had reports to file with her detective agency, and maybe talk to the cops if they needed to be involved with the little girl being with her mother.

Dealing with the boyfriend had been something he had liked to do. He might have to tell Wyndham he shouldn't be allowed to touch any of their living barriers. The fury inside him made it too easy to want to kill them if he got a chance.

And some were dangerously close to needing killing from what he could see.

Shanahan went through his breakfast of coffee and bagel with cream cheese on it slowly. He had nowhere to go, so it didn't matter how fast he ate. And he was still waiting on Wyndham with the hope she would pick up his tab.

He finished and paid for his food out of his money roll. If he kept making money working for Wyndham, he might have to open a checking account to keep his money for him. He almost smiled at that. He didn't trust any bank to hold on to his money for him.

He decided to just walk the neighborhood. He had nothing better to do until he decided he needed to get his nightly elixer. After that he would look for Wyndham on the next day.

This was the first time he could remember she was late with his money. Usually she paid as soon as the job was done. He wondered if he should call her agency. He knew who she worked for to get the kids back. He had seen the letterhead once.

Would they talk to him?

He realized he didn't know where she lived. He doubted her agency would give him that. They didn't know him from Adam. He decided that he had to try. Maybe they would give him something.

He wondered what was wrong with him. This was the first time he had considered checking on Wyndham. She could just be late with his money.

He decided the money was excuse enough to try and track her down.

The first thing he needed was the phone number of her detective agency, and then a phone. He knew where he could get the phone at least. Maybe he could get the phone number too.

He walked to the liquor store. He pressed the doorbell to be let inside. The place had been robbed a couple of times so the owner had invested in bars on the door and windows, magnetic locks, and a gun.

Shanahan doubted he was a good enough shot with the pistol to hit anything, but that wasn't his problem.

“Hey, Danny,” said Ali, the owner of the store. “It's a little early for your bottle, isn't it?”

Ali was a little taller than Shanahan, wore a smile and head wrapping, and knew the price of everything on the shelves of his store. One time his register had gone down, he had quoted everyone the price of their purchase and tax without consulting a pad for it.

The only complication was he couldn't do credit card purchases and had resorted to invoices to charge later.

“Phone book?,” asked Shanahan.

“No one uses them anymore,” said Ali. He pulled a rectangular box from a holster on his belt. “These babies already have phone numbers built in.”

“Need to make a call,” said Shanahan. “Grummet Detective Agency.”

“Hiring them to find your inner peace?,” asked Ali. He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, then dialed a number. He handed the phone over across the counter.

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When a stranger came on the phone to ask what Shanahan's business was, he explained that he was looking for Wyndham, and was her helper. He wanted to know if she had reported to work, and if she had his money.

The secretary confirmed his identity. She explained that Wyndham had left instructions that if he had to look for her, to send him to the Orlando Arms, room twenty two. He asked why, but the secretary didn't know. He hung up on her and gave the phone back to Ali.

“Is something wrong, Danny?,” asked Ali.

Shanahan pushed out of the store and headed down the street. The Orlando Arms wasn't that far from his bolt hole. If he climbed up to the roof of the apartment building his hiding place was in, he could see the roof of the Orlando a few buildings over.

He walked down until he could see the hotel. A lot across the street serviced visitors. He frowned when he saw the rental car parked in the lot. Wyndham hadn't returned it yet. She must have slept later than usual.

He walked toward the lot. He scanned the area as he moved. He saw a group across the street in the alley next to the Orlando. Wyndham was in the middle of the group. They were forcing her down the alley.

He walked across the street, angling for the alley. He pulled his knife as he went, extending the blade. His eyes glared from his face like polished stones.

The opposition was divided into two groups as far as he could tell. One group of four were officers with leather coats over leather suits and boots. The colors varied, but they were in charge of the other group and had their own pecking order.

The other group of four wore the same type of leather in brown with a red stripe on the arm for decoration. They held swords as they backed down the alley after the other four.

He should have borrowed Ali's pistol.

Shanahan walked at the rearguard. They didn't want to fight him. He could feel that. It didn't matter to him. Anger demanded that he kill as many as he could before they killed him.

“Don't come any closer,” said one of the mooks. “This doesn't concern you.”

“Mister Shanahan?,” said Wyndham. “Get out of here. They'll kill you.”

Shanahan walked on. He held his knife by his leg. He thought he saw weak spots he could exploit. Were they faster than he was?

The mook that had warned him brought his sword up in both hands for a downward chop. Shanahan was within reach at this point. He stabbed the man in the neck before he could swing his arms down. He pulled his knife loose, and shoved the body into his friends.

One of the chiefs brought some block out of a pouch. He held it in front of him. A whirlpool of light spun in place in front of him.

“Kill her friend, Gaunt,” said another chief. He wore dark red from head to toe. “That should break our oracle enough she'll never do this again.”

The three surviving mooks backed to guard the whirlpool as one of the chiefs came forward to meet Shanahan's relentless march. The group began vanishing into the whirlpool, one of the chiefs carrying Wyndham through against her will.

“Kill him and let's go, Gaunt,” said the chief with the rock. “This door won't stay open for long.”

Shanahan sized his opponent up as he approached. Gaunt was taller, looked more muscular with a corresponding weight advantage, and seemed to have good reflexes in the way he moved. He didn't pull a weapon to meet his enemy which indicated he didn't think he needed one.

The bum wanted to get to Wyndham. That meant going through this meat shield in front of him, and maybe the guy with the rock. The rest had already stepped into the unknown.

“Move,” said Shanahan. His inflection was flat.

“You move,” said Gaunt. His long face smiled at the challenge. He swung an arm in a quick jab, so he could follow with a harder punch with the other hand. Shanahan sliced his arm as he stepped inside the other's reach.

Gaunt stepped back, swinging the other arm. He hadn't expected to be hurt on the first exchange, and it showed on his face.

Shanahan ducked the punch. He felt he had an accurate read on the other's power. He didn't want to take a shot from those callused hands. Bones would break under them.

He stepped in and sliced Gaunt's legs with his knife. He had to limit the other man's mobility. The only way to do that was to cut the man's thigh and shin muscles until he couldn't shift position to defend himself.

Gaunt staggered back from the cuts. He swung another punch with his whole body behind it. He couldn't let himself be cut to pieces by this runt.

Shanahan stabbed him four quick times in his exposed ribs as the arm swept by his head. Then he plunged the knife into Gaunt's neck and pushed him out of the way. He ran for the whirlpool.

Two out of the eight was down. He had six more to kill, and to get Wyndham back.

Shanahan headed for the chief with the rock. If he had that, it didn't matter about anything else. He could follow them at his leisure, with time to get a gun to increase his chances of survival.

Once he was where they were, he could kill them all with no problem.

The man holding the rock looked at Shanahan coming at him. He looked at his friend bleeding on the alley floor. He stepped into the whirlpool.

Shanahan threw himself through the air at the whirlpool spinning in the air. He didn't want to be on this side while Wyndham was on the other side wherever that was. He felt pain shooting through him as he hit the light and fell inside.

He opened his eyes as he fell forward. Smoke drifted from his body as he headed after the rest of the travelers. What happened when they landed?

He shouldn't have jumped into the light. That was a mistake. He pushed that away. They knew he was coming. The looks on their faces was not one of happiness in his opinion. How did he turn things to his advantage?

If he could kill the six in the tube with him, Wyndham and he could walk away from the landing and figure some way to get home. Obviously the rock had created this. If they got that, they could go back to Earth.

He looked down at his hands. Excitement made them shake. He couldn't wait until he could kill these holes, and show them they couldn't kidnap his meal ticket.

The guy with the rock got to the head of the line. He looked back at Shanahan. He pushed the rock ahead of him. Their destination seemed to be a tower growing in the distance.

Shanahan heard a crackling behind him. He looked back over his shoulder. The tube burned under a charge of lightning. He realized that was what had hit him when he had jumped for the whirlpool.

It was a race to a landing spot. If the lightning ate the tube while he was still in transit, there was no telling what would happen to him. The guy with the rock must have realized the same thing and was urging more speed for himself out of the tube.

The lightning caught up with Shanahan and enveloped him. He fought the pain as he fell out of the tube. He saw the ground come into being below him. He looked at where the others should be, and saw sparks heading for a white spire in the distance.

Shanahan looked at the ground. He ignored not being in New York anymore and tried to think of a way not to die on impact.

The greenery didn't look that soft as he fell toward it.