I left my house early the next morning. I hadn’t been able to reach Hangman (he’d always adamantly refused to tell me where he lived; considering our profession, I didn’t blame him), and Jeffy’s night out celebrating with his friends had left him so hung over he wouldn’t have been much use. So I went alone and caught a transit platform to centerSprawl, switched lines at a turbostation, and eventually arrived at Grammatica’s shop.
Finding the place locked tight, I buzzed and waited impatiently. Paul finally opened the front door. To my surprise, he wore a tattered apron and held a scrub brush in one hand. Over his shoulder I saw a mop and a bucket of sudsy water by the far wall.
“Boss’s in his office,” he said, moving back to let me enter. “Expecting you, Slasher.”
“Get him to hire someo
