Phule nodded, saying, "Sure, why not?" and Rev made a gesture that might have been mistaken for a salute before heading off into the crowd. Phule barely noticed the chaplain's departure; he had spotted Moustache striding purposefully toward him. "Yes, Sergeant, what's the situation?" he asked, as the older man fell in step beside him.

"Sushi's disappeared, sir," said Moustache, in his clipped, British accent. "The eyes spotted a pair of card cheats at one of the blackjack tables. Sushi and Do-Wop moved in to handle it; the man turned out to be a martial arts specialist, and they put up a bit of a fight."

"That's unusual," said Phule, his eyebrows rising. "Any injuries?"

"None reported, sir," Moustache said. "A bit of broken furniture, but that was replaced in no time at all."

"Well, that's good," said Phule. He stopped, and turned to face the older man. "How long ago was this?"

"Right after you left, sir," said the sergeant. "Coming up on forty minutes ago. After the first flurry, Sushi and the man left together. Sushi told Do-Wop he had things under control, but didn't give details. And he turned off his communicator as they left. We have the woman in custody-she turned tame as a puppy after the man stopped fighting-but she's not talking. I doubt she knows where they are, anyway. We certainly don't."

"Sushi turned off his communicator, you say?" A look of concern came over Phule's face. "That's not a smart move. I have faith in his judgment, but this..."

"I know what you mean, sir," said Moustache, grimly. "We can't always stick to procedures, but he should have given Mother a probable destination before dropping out of touch. I didn't see anything that justified that."