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DeLong nodded and； together； they began to edge closer to the rear of the building。 They moved as quietly as they could； keeping to the shadows。 For the first time； DeLong noticed that several of the streetlights were out。 Odd； since the New Chinatown Association lost no time in bringing such problems to the city's attention。 But that was New York for you。
They both saw the blur of movement at the same time。 De…Long gave his partner a pat and ran across the street into the concealing shadows on the far side。 The black man kept his eyes riveted to the building at the end of the street。 He knew from long years of experience where DeLong was headed。
They began to close in； keeping the old…fashioned iron fire escape between them。 Looking up； they saw the moving shadow racing over the slats and then … nothing。 No vertical movement downwards。
The two men glanced at each other； then； cautiously； they moved forward until they were almost directly beneath the vertical ladder of the fire escape。 From this perspective； it seemed an angular jungle of stripes and deep shadows。 Randomly spaced lit…up windows made detection that much more difficult … insufficient light in many areas； spurious illumination in others； creating three or more shadows of the same object。 'What the hell happened to him？' DeLong asked。 'I dunno。' Binghamton holstered his 。38； swung the iron ladder down with a grate。 'But I'm going up to find out。 He may have gone over the roof。' He scrambled up onto the first…floor fire escape landing and drew his gun。 Moving quickly and quietly； he climbed upwards。 He had difficulty maintaining a clear view through the forest of metal striations。
He paused for a moment on the second floor at the sound of a police siren； rising and falling； as a blue…and…white sped along the bowery。 Apparently it was heading uptown because the sound dopplered abruptly away； sounding odd and echoey in the summer night。 Nothing to do with him。 'Anything？'
DeLong's voice drifted up to him along with the background wash of Chinatown； the traffic； slowed along the narrow streets； the distant chattering of a foreign language； singsong； rapid…fire。 Gave a negative wave of his free hand and heard the buzzing in the same instant。 Some kind of insect。 But the impacts …one two three … pinpricks puncturing the flesh of his chest and spinning him around were from nothing so innocuous。
He stumbled； reached out with his left hand； saw a movement； fired； and grasped the railing。 He thought only of getting enough air into his lungs。 The 。38 clattered against the iron grille work at his feet。
Turned drunkenly and saw the dark figure before him as if it had appeared out of nowhere。 Looked spectral in the wreaths of light and dark stripes； broken into oblique shards like a fun…house mirror as he lurched from side to side。 He wanted to vomit。
Impression of a pale face dominated by black almond eyes。
In a moment the eyes moved and a thin line of white lights appeared along their curving edges。 Pupils dilated； he saw。 Drugs； he thought； irrelevantly。 His mouth opened and he grunted like a stuck pig。 'DeLong。' Had it been loud enough？ His ears rang as if he had just e from a rock concert。
The figure came at him； ballooning dangerously。 He reached out； barring the figure's way with a stiff left arm while he brought his right up to the horizontal so that the gun was brought to bear … where was his gun？ His thoughts as slow and stupid as a Neanderthal's。
Felt as if he were at the bottom of the sea； gravity dragging as cruelly at him as if he weighed five hundred pounds。 Almost all his strength was now being used to maintain his standing position。 His chest was on fire … a cool numbing flame that seemed to set him floating inside himself。 His consciousness detached itself from the useless husk of his body。 Freed at last； it shot upward through the top of his head and into the humid squalor of the night。
Now the entire blaze of the city was spread out below him； a pinky…blue shell of light pulsing above the building like a shroud。 Beyond it； infinite space。
Peering dawn through the haze； he could just make out in dwindling perspective his swaying body as the shadow ran past it； arm outstretched。 He could even make out the pale blob of DeLong's anxious upturned face； moving nervously in the shadows of Doyers Street。
When he looked again his body was toppling ever so slowly； losing its balance。 It seemed as if he had to strain to see clearly now； so high was he。 Everything cloaked in an aurora and he wondered； fleetingly； whether he had exceeded his limitations and had gone too high。
Like Icarus； he thought。 And descended into darkness。
DeLong felt it before he even saw it。 Like an elevator unexpectedly ing down； the sheer bulk was oppressive。
He sidestepped； though he had no idea what had been thrown down。 Then it landed； quite near him； with a heavy sound that had no analogue in life。
'Jesus Christ！' he said under his breath。 He began to sweat。
He knelt beside the crumpled body of his partner。 'Jesus； Jesus。 Sandy； what happened？'
Shock。 He knew he must look for whoever it was that had done this； but for the moment he was incapable of looking away。 The shock。 And blood seeping silently in a rivulet along the asphalt。 The left side of the head had impacted first； then the shoulder and so on。
DeLong got up and backed away two paces。
Heard a sound； soft as only a cat might make； and he tore his eyes away。 Doyers Street had bee a trap now for him and he scuttled back into the shadows of a doorway； looking up。 For the first time he found himself wondering what the Lieutenant had got them into。 Where the hell was he； anyway？
He caught the movement now； this time soundless； along the horizontal plane of the fire escape one flight…up。 In other circumstances he would have passed it up as an animal prowling the night。 Not now。 He raised his 。38； and； leading the target； squeezed off a shot。 The report was very loud in the confined space； echoing off the walls； zigzagging from left to right。 The spang of the ricochet told him he had hit metal。
'Shit！' He aimed； fired again。 This time； no ricochet。 Had it been a hit ？
There was a vertical and the last horizontal row before the suspect could get to street level and he would be most vulnerable； DeLong reasoned； in descent。 With difficulty； he held himself in check。 Binghamton's broken body was like a heavy weight close by him and he fought the rising desire to empty his pistol at the moving shape。 Wait； he cautioned himself。 Wait and get this bastard when he's closer and there's no doubt。
Now the shadow was at the end of the first…floor fire escape landing and DeLong sighted carefully； using both hands； one cupped over the other to steady his aim He fixed on the point of the access to the hanging ladder。 His forefinger tightened on the trigger。 Wait。 Tidal breathing。 Wait。 Now。 Here he es。 Shots； three in rapid fire。
Nothing happened。
DeLong raised his gun； puzzled。 Where was the bastard？
Then he picked up movement on the street in the periphery of his vision。 Impossible； he thought。 How the hell had he made
the drop without using the ladder？ And without a sound？
He swivelled； legs spread； aiming the 。38 in the classic pose he had been taught so well at the Academy。 Silence。 No movement。 He tried to recall the path of the motion and extrapolate 。。。
Felt the presence so close that he was startled。 He dropped to one knee； fired fast and accurately on reflex。 But in the space of that last instant he saw the figure leap at him。 The left hand was extended and DeLong could make out a short black…wood stick； blunt…ended； as big around as his own nightstick。 He braced for an overhand blow and thus was totally unprepared for the horizontal thrust。 He was dumbfounded by the useless gesture。
The rounded end just touched the cloth of his uniform over his heart。 It was only then that he jerked to the searing pain lancing through him as the seven…inch stiletto blade； powered by a high…thrust steel spring； shot out from the end of the wooden stick； puncturing from front to back。 It speared his heart； went through one lung and DeLong was dead before he hit the grou