weapon should see him through. Now he was grateful for this decision. Less bulk to worry about. He slipped the Gun into an alcove, gambling that no one would have occasion to search the closet.
“You have Greek shoulders,” said the mouse-faced poet, who was beginning to gear up next to him. Logan grunted and returned to Lilith, who was already dressed and ready. She offered him a Scotch. “Thanks, I can use this!” He tipped the glass to his lips.
A dozen dark-garbed men and women waited in the central chamber. They joined them, and the girl handed Logan a pair of smokegoggles. “Wear these on the ledge.”
Six black-light cameras were arranged neatly on a table. One camera per couple.
“Righty, righty,” said the fatman, signaling for attention. “Now all you peepers know what to do?”
“Stop being a damn woman, Sharps,” said a bored voice, “and get on with it.”
Sharps glanced petulantly at the speaker. “I’m in charge. The cameras belong to me!”
“And it’s your alcohol and your tobacco and your living unit. For which we are all duly grateful. So let’s peep.”
Sharps made an obscene gesture. He waved the first couple off. In pairs, the players left the chamber through a ceiling-high view-window.
Logan found himself kneeling beside Lilith on a narrow ledge high in the complex. Below them, the great city was alive with snakes of light. He saw the rows of blinking glasshouses near Hurley Square and, beyond, the dazzle of Arcade. The fire galleries sent up their rose glow, staining the edge of the night sky.
It was a long way down.
He shifted the camera and gripped the alum-ribbing of the building wall. Wind slicked between the box beams, threatening to pull him from the ledge.
Lilith crawled into the liquid dark, edging in front of Logan. Keeping his eye on the feminine sway of her dark bottom, he followed.
When the girl stopped he said, “Talk. Were alone now.” He couldn’t see her face behind the goggles. “ First we peep,” she said. “Then we talk.”
“Why not now?”
“If we return to the party without film they’ll suspect something. Sharps is not the fool he seems. They’ll ask questions we might not want to answer.”
High in the complex, a full half-mile above them, a police paravane ran its pinlight along the ledges.
“Keep in shadow,” said Lilith. “They patrol these landings. We have to be careful.”
Logan knew the game was illegal, and he didn’t want the police stopping him. If he got picked up without the Gun he would not be able to prove his identity. They’d have to check him out. If he had the Gun, and revealed himself, the girl would close the door on Sanctuary. Either way, he couldn’t afford to be stopped.
He’d be careful.
With a cat’s litheness, the girl swung, hand over hand, along a guy wire leading to the next ledge. Logan slung the camera over one shoulder and followed.
Most of the windows they could reach were blacked. Other units were unoccupied. Lilith pointed downward “I think something’s happening in there,” she said. The window she’d indicated was closed but not blacked.
The girl took out a slim wire with an earplug at one end and a walkup on the other. She pressed the cup against the building, the plug in her ear. She smiled.
“Have a listen,” she said, passing the earplug to Logan.
Through the miniature amplifier he could hear voices husky with love. A man and a woman. Sighs. The rub of skin on skin.
“Give me the camera,” whispered Lilith. “And grab my ankles. I’m going down for a shot.”
Logan braced himself. He clung to the girl’s legs as she slipped off the ledge, head first. Lilith dangled in space just in front of the dark window. Below her: a mile-deep emptiness, a stagger of steel and glass and boa beam units.
Logan leaned back, feet gripping the stone, feeling his leg muscles protest. The camera whirred. “Up!” the girl whispered.
He pulled her back to the ledge. “How did you know I