I closed my eyes for a moment. The hostage threw up, though at least the field had kept him from being spattered by brains. I finally answered my phone.
    "What?!"
    "They're in the elevator. And the staircase," Scott informed me tersely.
    'They' being security, I assumed. "Let me get this guy out of here."
    I picked up Gordon. And heard the helicopter coming up. Those fucking Rhode Island bastards again. And it was daylight now, this might be a problem. I pondered for a moment and decided to commit a felony. Carrying Gordon, I headed out through an office at the other side of the building, scared a lot of people and shattered yet another window. Paused for a moment to gather up the falling glass and put it back inside rather than creating a rain of death for those below, then kept going, wondering where I could land unseen. That damn chopper was on my tail to start, but I had all the time in the world to get away from them and all the adrenaline in the world to do it with at the moment. For an instant I had the unshakable certainty that I was centered in someone's crosshairs, dove to one side and twisted away as I poured on all the speed I was capable of.
    I lost them in the buildings again and headed out for the harbor islands, stayed at wave-kissing level to keep out of sight. Landed at the Wuxia island and dropped Gordon there, still wrapped in my field. He was unconscious, but in reasonably good heath; I didn't need to worry about him having a heart attack or anything.

[Perspective switch: Scott]

    I started trying to bring Gordon around. My phone rang, but there was nothing there when I picked up. Odd. I gave his brain a delicate little adrenal kick, that seemed to do some good; he blinked groggily and started coughing from the gas still in his lungs.
    And then out of fucking nowhere, I swear to god, that damn helicopter popped up behind the wreckage at the other end of the island. There was nowhere to go and no time to get there, I could just watch its approach and wonder, with startling detachment, what I was going to do when it got here. Guns bristled from its sides, and a "heads-up" tactical display was spread across the glass, where I could see myself reflected, a small shape in the middle of the crosshairs. Dammit.
    "You are under arrest," an amplified voice proclaimed. "Repeat, you are under arrest. Stay where you are. Drop all your fields and step away from the body."

[Perspective switch: Everyone Else]

    "He's still alive," I informed them over the roar of the rotors. Just to show willing, I raised my hands a little. My phone rang again. Moving very slowly, I answered it.
    "Hi, they're following you, the helicopter seems to have some ability to trace you while you're using your powers," Scott said breathlessly.
    "Thanks. They found me."
    "Tell him he said they're not supposed to engage you."
    "I like that news. I'll call you back."
    A man had jumped down from the chopper. He was holding an energy pistol like he was ready to use it, but he didn't look overexcited.
    "I don't believe we've been introduced," I said.
    "No, I don't think so." He looked me up and down, looked at Gordon and back at me. "That man is under our custody as of right now. Is that clear?"
    "I need to talk to him," I said steadily.
    He put himself between the two of us.
    "I saved his fucking life!" I snapped.
    "And then after that you kidnapped him and carried him away from the building," I was reminded. He reached down toward Gordon and put a bracelet-like device on the man's wrist.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Putting him under our custody." Snap. "Who are you?" the PITS guy asked my former captive.
    "Gordon. Mark Gordon." He looked confused—understandably so, I think—and just a bit scared, which I approved of. The bracelet beeped a happy tone.
    "All right. Who do you work for?"
    "I run my own company, I'm an independent contractor." Unhappy beep.
    "Half-truth," PITS guy noted. "Not good enough."
    "Mr. Gordon, I know who you work for," I told him, staring down at him.
    The PITS agent glanced at me. "Obviously there's something going on here that I'd like to be brought up to speed on."
    "I'm sure you would." Being a fugitive seemed to be giving me an attitude problem.
    "You can start now," he invited in a growl, reminding me with a slight motion which one of us was holding the gun. I was pretty sure I was faster than him, but decided to see if this could be kept relatively friendly.
    "Have you ever heard of the World Crime League?"
    He shrugged. "Rumors, bits and pieces here and there."
    "Ask him if he works for them." Never taking my eyes off Gordon.
    "Do you work for the World Crime League?"
    "No." Very unhappy beep.
    "Mr. Gordon, you know who I am," I told him.
    "Yeah, I know who you are." Happy beep.
    I admit, the fact that he looked that scared was a source of intense satisfaction for me. "You probably know more about me than I do."
    "I'm not so sure about that." Beep.
    "So let's keep this nice and friendly, okay?"
    "I'm not going to be questioned by you. I want a lawyer. I have my rights."
    I laughed.
    "Needle, I'm afraid he's correct," the PITS guy warned me—looking a little less hostile than he had at first. "When he asks for a lawyer, we have to give him one, even under the normal leeway of our law."
    I looked at him. "What are you planning on arresting him for?"
    "We have sufficient reason to believe he was involved in a bombing that just took place, it's enough for us to place him under custody."
    "Where?"
    "The building that you just ushered him out of."
    "Shit." I felt myself go a little pale. "Shit."
    "Blew up, taking out everyone who was there with the exception of your partner and mine," he told me quietly.
    Those bastards. You'd think I'd know by now, but dammit, why do they have to do this? First Javelin kills his drone for no other reason than spite, now these sons of bitches bomb the entire damn building?
    "Now I don't know what's going on in this city," he went on, "why people want to shoot you or what happened with your partner, or anything else, all I know is that we're getting this guy in our chopper, taking him back to police headquarters, and turning him over for questioning. You're not going to stop us."
    "I don't want to stop you, I just want to be there." They could talk to him all they wanted, as long as I got my answers, too.
    "In order for you to get into that chopper I'm going to have to place you under arrest."

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