“Close. It’s Marsalis. I like the new face.”

“Do you?” The Smith still hung loose in his grip, arm at his side. Carl wondered if Gray was meshed yet. It’d make a difference to his speed if he was, but that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was the difference it’d make to Gray’s attitude. “Try to fit in, you know. Deru kui wa utareru.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No?” And the slow, alarming smile Carl had hoped he wouldn’t see.

“You were never going to get hammered down, Frank. None of us does, that’s our problem. And that’s an appalling Japanese accent. Want my advice, you’d be better off delivering your folk wisdom in English.”

“I don’t.” The smile became a grin. He was going, sliding into the crack. “Want your advice, that is.”

“Why don’t you put the gun down, Frank?”

“You want a fucking list?”

“Frank.” Carl stayed absolutely still. “Look at my hand. That’s a Haag pistol. Even if you get me, I don’t have to do more than scratch you on the way down. It is over. Why don’t you try to salvage something?”

“Like you have, you mean?” Gray shook his head. “I’m nobody’s puppy, UN man.”

“Oh grow up, Frank.” The sudden snap of the anger in his own voice was a surprise. “We’re all somebody’s puppy. You want to get dead, go right fucking ahead and make me do it. They pay me just the same.”

Gray tautened visibly. “Yeah, I’ll bet they fucking do.”

Carl got a grip on his own feelings. He made a slow, damping motion with his free hand. “Look—”

“Look, nothing.” A mirthless grin. “I know my score. Three Euro-cops, couple of Jesusland state troopers. You think I don’t know what that means?”

“It’s Brussels, man. They got jurisdiction. You don’t have to die. They’ll put you away, but—”

“Yeah, they’ll put me away. You ever spend time in the tract?”

“No. But it can’t be a lot worse than Mars, and you were going there anyway.”