The dumpster was pushed back from the alley and the detective leaned against it, smoking a cigarette. Sam got in line several people behind me, and though he tried to give me a glance of support, the face I most wanted to see was Arthur’s. Arthur, however, was nowhere to be found. I assumed he had been positioned in the place where he was least likely to encounter any fleeing villains he would refuse to harm, or any rats he might accidentally squish. The bouncer eyed me as before, though this time I was more afraid than nervous. It was exactly as I remembered it, right down to the glowing ankh on my wrist, the garish lighting, and the stockyard. I squeezed through bodies that stank of sweat, was propelled onto the dance floor, and narrowly missed being elbowed in the head. On the stairwell, I pressed myself into the corner and waited. If the timing was right, any minute the security guard would appear. He came up the stairs moments later, earpiece in and looking at me as if he were hearing any number of foul untruths from it.
