As the laughter finally died away, she turned her gaze on me and the knot in my stomach tightened. But I didn't squirm visibly; just stood there.

"And what is it that you've learned since this Dydeetown girl took you on as a client?"

Gave her a casual shrug. "Not too much, other than the fact that your men do sloppy searches — could've hidden a body in the mess they made — and that you're interested in finding this guy, too."

"Nothing more?"

"Only been on it since after lunch. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Yokomata rose from behind her desk and came toward me. She was taller than I'd originally thought.

"You're not good, Mr. Dreyer. The few people who've heard of you say you used to be, but now you're strictly a third-rater living off other eyes' leavings. I wouldn't know what the clones think of you."

"They think he's honest," said the clone.

We both ignored her — Yokomata didn't recognize her presence and I wouldn't allow a clone to speak up for me.

"Over here," Yokomata said, gesturing me toward the wall. "I want to show you something."

The wall cleared as we approached, giving us a broad view of the backyard.

"Nice grass," I said. "Don't suppose you cut it yourself."

"Watch," she said. "It's almost time."

So I watched. Watched the grass, watched the trees and their long shadows sway in the breeze. Was about to turn away when something darted out of the bushes near the house — brown on top, light below, thin legs, graceful neck. Seen pictures of something like that before. A deer. Hornless. A doe.

It zigzagged out into the yard and then froze, remained statue-like for a few heartbeats, then broke into a frenzied dash. But it didn't have a chance. A gray-green juggernaut shot into view, overtook it, and bit its head off.