As I approached the office building, Mouse waved from the stoop. I'd turned off the holographic defense a block away when I was certain he was alone. I could hear the whiz of cars in the tunnels above, but here on the Lower East Side we were the only people on the streets.
Mouse pulled himself to his feet and began walking toward me. It was strange to see him in the flesh again. His skin was darker than I remembered, and his hair more unkempt. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. Several layers of mismatched clothes hung off his short but lanky frame, and though I could see the shadow of stubble on his chin, he looked like a perpetual teenager.
"Hey, you." Mouse smiled, pulling the sunglasses down to give me a rakish once-over. "Looking different, definitely more wicked, but I like; it suits you."
I came here for a confrontation, but I found myself smiling in return. "Did you ever find your page?"
"Nah. Must've gone rogue on me." He shrugged, thumbing the glasses back in place. "He'll stumble back when he wants to come home."
"Huh. I suppose he will," I said, thinking of Michael's similar situation. I wondered if, right now, God was shrugging off Raphael's questions with similar unconcern.
"Yeah. ... Say, could we go inside? I thought I saw a cop car a while back, and well, honestly, I've got to pee like nobody's business."
I laughed. When he talked like that, I had a hard time perceiving Mouse as much of a threat. "Sure," I said, leading the way. "The toilet is down the hall from my office, but it works."
I stood staring at the heavy oak door and the brass lock. The keyhole dripped with an oily sheen, and I smelled the light tang of lubricant. On the other side of the door, someone coughed. I'd started to put my eye to the keyhole to confirm my suspicions, when Mouse put a hand on my shoulder.
"What's up?" Mouse said, "I thought you'd be in by now, starting some coffee. I'm dying for a cup."
"No wonder you've always got to pee," I smiled, but the warmth had gone from my voice. Returning my attention to the lock, I shook my head. I couldn't take a chance if Mouse was intending ambush. "No keys. I left my keys at Eion's church. I wanted a change of clothes, but ... Well, now that you've gone to the bathroom I guess we can talk anywhere."
Mouse nodded. His eyebrows twitched, and he chewed his lip.
I started to back down the hallway.
"Nah, it's okay," Mouse said. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he knelt near the lock. As his hand removed the thin oddly shaped metal bars from his pocket, his shirt stretched to reveal the butt of a gun. "I've got tools."
"Mmm-hm." I agreed through thinly pressed lips. Slamming the helmet on, I touched the button to engage my holographic armor. "If you've got the tools, Mouse," I asked, even though I knew the answer, "why didn't you let yourself in earlier?"
"Who's to say I didn't?" Lockpicks in his right hand, he grabbed the pistol with his left. He spun around.
I inched along the wall, heading for the door.
"Stop right there. Don't think I can't see you, girl," Mouse said. The gun was pointed right at me; his finger rested on the trigger.
"The sunglasses." I said. "Shit. Of course. Infrared?"
"Give the woman a medal." Keeping the gun flawlessly trained on me; Mouse tucked the lockpicks into the front pocket of his shirt.
"Ambidextrous, as well," I said, pulling off the helmet and disabling the armor. I was careful to leave the LINK filament in place against my temple. "Seems I forgot a lot about you."
"I have many gifts." He inclined his head slightly, and splayed the fingers of his right hand, a gesture of modesty.
I nodded, with a defeated sigh. I pressed my back against the wall, letting the helmet rest against the curve of my elbow. "Are you planning to gun me down here? It doesn't really seem your style, Mouse."
"It's not really, and, honestly, Dee, I don't want to kill you. I'd much rather you were safely tucked away somewhere until everything is settled." He eyed me through the combat sights. "Speaking of people I thought safely tucked away, where's Daniel?"
"Daniel? Why does everybody want Daniel?"
Mouse perked up and gave me a wide-eyed look over the gun. "Who else wanted Daniel?"
"A transvestite named Ariel."
Mouse laughed. "You're kidding."
I shook my head, while carefully testing the weight of the helmet in my arm. If I aimed just right, I could knock the gun out of Mouse's hand. Problem was, I only had one chance. If I missed, I was dead. I needed another distraction.
"What's so hot about Daniel?" I asked.
Mouse cocked his head in lieu of a shrug. "Just tell me where he is."
"Yankee Stadium or the police morgue." I tried to sound flippant, but grief snagged my voice. "He's dead, Mouse."
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"
I nodded.
"Huh. Really?" I nodded again. He sighed, "I tell you, I'm off-line for eight hours and the whole universe changes. When did that happen? How?"
The image of Daniel's ashen face threatened to blur my vision. I shook my head and clipped my voice in order to keep my emotions in check. "Police sniper. Last night."
"No shit," Mouse breathed, standing up. "So it's over."
That sounded bad. "Over? What's over?"
"My archnemesis is dead."
"Daniel?"
Mouse frowned. "Of course, who else? He's the one who tripped that first alarm. He's the one who nearly brought me down a year ago. He's the bastard who broke into mouse.net last night." Something in my eyes must have made Mouse question his train of thought. He stared at me and then added, "Right?"
The barrel of the gun dipped toward the floor. Taking a quick half step out from the wall, I tossed the helmet at Mouse, underhand. My luck was off, but the helmet managed to knock Mouse's arm to the right, across his body. A bullet exploded from the gun. I felt the ejected, hot brass casing smack me in the arm.
A cascade of plaster dust and wood splinters fell around us. Though my ears were ringing, I rushed toward Mouse. He recovered quicker than I, and I'd only managed to take two steps before I was looking down the barrel of the gun.
"Oh, Deidre," Mouse said sadly. "I really liked you."
"I like you too, Mouse," I said.
The gun trembled in his hands. Mouse was sincere when he'd said he didn't want to kill me. I decided to call his bluff. "Do it already."
Mouse's mouth hung open at my taunting words. What the hell, I thought, either God wants me alive or dead.
"Come on, boy, pull the trigger," I said. "And do me a favor, will you?" I pointed to my abdomen. "Aim right here."
"You want to die?" Mouse's voice was a whisper.
"Live or die, it doesn't matter. You and your little cronies think they started the Second Coming, but yours is a hoax. I am the fucking Holy Mother." I let a hysterical laugh bubble up out of the tight place I kept my emotions.
Mouse's eyes were wide. I stepped forward until the gun pressed up against my chest.
"Stay back. I'm not afraid to shoot you," Mouse squeaked.
"Good. I'd hate for you to miss the mark, like so many of the other boys in my life."
I stood close enough to smell the leather and patchouli that was Mouse's scent. There was something oddly familiar about it: dangerous, but comfortable.
In a minute, I could put my hand on the gun ... or he would shoot me point-blank, either way the crisis would be resolved. I honestly wasn't sure which I preferred.
"You're crazy," Mouse whispered through clenched teeth. His eyes narrowed as he took aim.