For a long moment no one said anything. Tomb was frowning deeply. "Did you notice any differences between the three homunculi?"
"Yeah," said Fisher. "They're getting harder to kill."
"More than that," said Hawk, putting down his empty sherry glass. "They were all unnaturally strong, but the muscular development was different each time. There was no way it could have been the same body… and yet, each time we met, the Dark Man was much harder to deal with. It's as though he learns from his previous mistakes. I think there's one single mind controlling all the homunculi, jumping from body to body. It's also quite possible that there are more Dark Men out there somewhere, waiting for another chance at us."
The God Squad looked at each other. "Can you tell us anything about this sorcerer Bode?" said Rowan.
"Well," said Hawk, "apart from his having a mysterious mission on the Street of Gods at the same time as the Gods started dying, apparently he also gave Lord Arthur Sinclair the original inspiration for the Hellfire Club. Bode does seem to get around, doesn't he? Did any of you know him?"
Buchan nodded slowly. "I met him a few times, on the Street of Gods. Seemed a pleasant enough sort, though I never did find out what he was doing on the Street. I haven't seen him for some time."
"Was this before or after the God Killings began?" said Fisher.
"Before, I think," said Buchan.
"Did you ever meet his girlfriend?" said Hawk.
Buchan shook his head. "Didn't know he had one. Is she important?"
"Beats me," said Hawk. "Anyone else here know Bode?"
"I met him once or twice," said Rowan. "He was asking questions on the Street, so I checked him out, just to see what he was up to. We get all sorts down here, and it pays to be careful. He was a bit vague about what he was doing on the Street, but that's not unusual. He seemed harmless enough, so I let him be."
"What kind of questions was he asking?" said Fisher.
Rowan shrugged. "Questions about the Gods. Their powers, their backgrounds, things like that. The usual tourist stuff. And I didn't see any girlfriend, either."
Hawk sat quietly a moment, letting his thoughts settle. Bode was turning out to be an important link in the case, but they didn't really know anything about him. Perhaps he should contact the Guards in charge of the Bode killing, and have them send over all the papers found in Bode's house. Maybe there was something in them that would shed more light on the sorcerer…
"Assuming all the homunculi have a single mind," said Tomb slowly, "the important question must be who is controlling them."
"Well, Bode, I would assume," said Rowan. "After all, the Dark Men are all versions of his own body. Perhaps he knew he was going to die, so he committed suicide and transferred his soul into one of the homunculi. That way he'd be free to continue with his mission. Whatever it is."
"Suicide?" said Fisher. "The cause of death was a single stab wound through the heart! If it was suicide, what happened to the knife?"
"That's a good point," said Buchan. "But if it isn't Bode, who is it?"
"Presumably the anonymous person who gave him his mission," said Hawk. "Whoever it is didn't want to be seen on the Street of Gods in person. Which suggests that somebody would have known him and recognized him."
"Or her," said Fisher. "Remember the girlfriend? That could have been our unknown person, emerging briefly from the shadows to give Bode new orders."
"This is getting complicated," said Buchan. "If we assume the Dark Men aren't really Bode, why are they still after Hawk and Fisher?"
"Because we're dangerous," said Hawk. "We're getting closer to the truth, and the Dark Man knows it."
"Wait a minute," said Tomb. "We're overlooking something important. Did I understand you to say that the sorcerer Bode was killed in his own house? Why didn't his magic protect him?"
"Good question," said Hawk. "We don't know. When we got there, there was no trace of magic anywhere in the house; no wards, no booby traps, nothing."
"That's insane," said Tomb flatly. "Even after his death, the protective wards should still have been there. They usually have to be dismantled by another sorcerer. Dammit, every sorcerer has wards of some kind; you can't work without them."
"All right," said Hawk. "So it's crazy. Doesn't surprise me. The whole damn case is crazy."
"But it is definitely looking more and more like one case," said Fisher.
"It seems to me," said Buchan, "that we're not going to get anywhere until we can find out what Bode was doing here on the Street. That's got to be the key to everything."
"So it would seem," said Tomb. "In which case, it's fortunate I asked an acquaintance of mine to join us here this evening. I thought Hawk and Fisher ought to meet him. He's very knowledgeable about the Street of Gods. It's said that nothing happens on the Street that he doesn't know about, often before it happens."
"Oh, no," said Buchan. "You haven't. You haven't called him in, have you? Not Lacey?"
"Dirty little sneak," muttered Rowan.
"He serves a purpose," said Tomb firmly. He turned to Hawk and Fisher and smiled, almost apologetically. "In order to do our job here on the Street, we have to be in constant touch with everything that's going on. Given the nature of the Street of Gods, that can be rather difficult. Rowan and I both have the Sight, but there's a limit to how much ground we can cover. So we are forced to depend on various reliable sources for our information."
"Right," said Buchan. "Half our budget goes on bribe money."
"And most of that goes to Lacey," said Rowan.
"He's always proved most useful to us," said Tomb. "He has his own organization of informants and eavesdroppers. They bring him all the news, rumor, and gossip, and he puts it all together. He's predicted more trends, business deals, heresies, and conspiracies than all our other sources put together."
"He's also a nasty, repellent little creep, and he makes my skin crawl," said Rowan.
"We know the sort," said Hawk. "We use informants in our line of work, too."
"How much do you pay them?" asked Buchan.
Hawk grinned. "Isobel lets them live. They seem happy to settle for that."
"Anyway," said Tomb, "our man Lacey is waiting just down the hall. With your permission, I'll have him join us."
He looked around for objections, but no one said anything. Buchan clearly didn't give a damn, and Rowan was sulking. Tomb gestured sharply with his left hand, and the drawing room door swung open on its own.
"Do come in, Lacey. There's a good fellow!" said Tomb loudly.
There was a pause, and then a wide, fleshy figure appeared in the doorway, smiling ingratiatingly. He was better than average in height, but his great bulk made him look shorter. He moved slowly but with surprising grace, and something in the way he held himself suggested he was no stranger to violence, should it prove necessary. He had a round bland face, the main features of which were his small, dark eyes and constant smile. Fisher didn't like the smile. It looked practiced. His hair was dark and greasy, plastered flat and parted neatly down the middle. Just looking at him, you knew immediately that you could trust him completely, provided you kept up the payments, but that the moment you ran out of money he'd disappear in an instant. The smile got worse the more you saw of it; the insincerity of it grated on the nerves like fingernails on a blackboard. All in all, Lacey was the kind of man you didn't want to shake hands with, in case some of his personality rubbed off on you.
"My dear Tomb, how nice to see you again. Looking well, as always. And your charming associates, Buchan and Rowan; two of my favorite people." His voice sounded exactly the way you'd expect it to. Soft and breathy and thoroughly oily. The kind of sound a toad would make if it was trying to sell you a horse that nobody wanted. "Always happy to be of service to you, my friends. Now then, I see we have guests present; Captains of our illustrious city Guard, no less. Will you honor me with your names, sir and madam?"