I sighed. "Can you at least tell me who doesn't want me snooping around? Then if anybody tries anything, I'll have some idea why." Just silence in my ear, save for the light breathing of my phone imp. I sighed again. It was that land of morning. "Okay, Charlie, I'll draw my own conclusions."

Those conclusions made for one ugly drawing, let me tell you. After a last sigh for effect, I said, "I'll head up to the Valley right away. God willing, I can get going before St James' Freeway turns impossible."

Thanks, David. I appreciate it," Kelly said, coming back to life now that I was doing what he wanted,

"Yeah, sure." I resigned myself to a long, miserable day.

"'Bye, Charlie." I hung up the phone. The imp went dormant. I wished I could have done the same.

I grabbed a quick, cold shower - either the salamander for the block of flats wasn't awake yet or somebody had turned it into a toad overnight - a muddy cup of coffee, and a not quite stale sweet roll. Feeling as near human as I was going to get at half past five, I went out to the garage, got on my carpet, and headed for the freeway.

My building has access rules like any other's, I suppose: anybody can use the flyway going out, but to come in you have to make your entry talisman known to the watch demon or else have one of the residents propitiate him for you. Otherwise you come down - with quite a bump, too - outside the wall and the gate.

I rode west along The Second Boulevard (don't ask me why it's The Second and not just Second; it just is) about twenty feet off the ground. Traffic was moving pretty well, actually, even though we all still had our lanterns on so we could see one another in the predawn darkness.

The Watcher who lets carpets onto St. James' Freeway from a feeder road is of a different breed from your average building's watch demon.