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Chandler frowned. What was it Gin had told him? Something about tunnels beneath the Platinum Quarter. He considered going to the Wolfman's and getting Gin to act as a guide, but there was no telling where the Blue Devil would be by then, or even that he would still be in the tunnels, and Chandler wanted answers more than he wanted a guide.

His decision made, Chandler removed the manhole cover and, pistol in hand, entered the winding, twisting world that lay beneath the Platinum Quarter.

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Chandler found himself in a small circular chamber, with tunnels going off in three directions.

Now he ceased being the assassin and once again became the hunter of The Frenchman's World. The floor was damp, and he instantly saw that the water in a small puddle just in front of the left-hand tunnel was moving slightly, as if someone had walked through it within the last minute or so. Crouching slightly, ready to flatten himself against the wall in an instant, he carefully entered the tunnel.

Here and there he was able to detect signs in the millennia-old tunnels that showed him he was still on the right track, tiny disturbances that only the trained eye of a hunter could spot. He wanted to increase his pace, so that the Blue Devil didn't get too far ahead of him, but the trail was difficult to follow, and there was no sense racing ahead if his prey had turned down one of the many branches.

After ten minutes he came to a larger chamber, and here he lost the Blue Devil's trail, for a number of men had passed through it even more recently, no more than two or three minutes ago, and had obliterated all sign of his quarry.

The chamber branched into four more tunnels, and as he was trying to determine which one to follow, he heard a slight shuffling sound off to his right. He backed into the tunnel from which he had entered the chamber, crouched down, and waited.

A moment later a small man, a laser rifle tucked under his arm, entered the chamber, looked around, and uttered a shrill whistle. The whistle was answered from the depths of another corridor.

He whistled again, and again he was answered, this time from a new direction.

"I know you're here somewhere,” he said.

Chandler remained still and silent.

"Come on,” said the man. “The more we have to look for you, the harder it'll be on you when we find you."

A second man emerged from a tunnel.

"Any sign of him?” he asked.

"No,” said the small man. “But he's close. I can feel it in my bones."

Two more trilling whistles reverberated through the tunnels, and in another moment four men, all armed, stood within the chamber.

"Come out now,” called the small man, “and all it'll cost you is your money. You make us hunt for you, and it'll cost you a lot more."

Chandler heard yet another man coming down his corridor, and quickly stepped into the chamber, moving a step to his left and keeping his back to a wall.

"Drop the pistol, pal,” said the small man, as all four of them became aware of his presence and turned to face him.

"When you do,” answered Chandler.

The small man smiled. “There are four of us. What chance do you think you have?"

"There are five of you,” Chandler corrected him. “I don't want to kill you. I just want some information."

"He doesn't want to kill us!” laughed one of the men.

"That's right,” said Chandler. The footsteps stopped. “Come on in and join the party,” he said.

"I think I'll wait here until it begins,” answered an amused voice from the tunnel he had just left.

"I'm looking for a Blue Devil who entered the tunnels about ten minutes ago,” said Chandler, his gun still trained on the small man. “Have you seen him?"

"We ask the questions down here, friend,” said the small man. “This is our domain, and there's a fee for trespassing. How much money have you got with you?"

"I don't pay tributes,” said Chandler. “But I do pay for information. I'll pay five thousand credits to whichever one of you will lead me to the Blue Devil."

"Five thousand credits,” said the small man, his face lighting up. “That's a lot of money to be carrying around with you, friend."

"Too much,” said one of his companions.

"'Way too much,” agreed another. “A man carries that much money, he's just begging to be robbed.” He paused and leered. “I think we're going to have to teach you a little object lesson about carrying so much money around with you."

"You're making a mistake,” said Chandler ominously.

The small man trained his laser rifle on Chandler. “We've talked enough, friend. Drop your pistol or I cook you right now."

The four men fanned out, and Chandler, with a shrug, dropped his sonic pistol to the floor, where it landed with a noisy clatter.

"Glad to see you've decided to use your brain, friend,” said the small man. “Now, it just so happens that the toll for walking to the next exit is exactly five thousand credits—unless you happen to be carrying a lot more."

"And if I am?"

"Then we'd be very insulted that you thought you could buy us so cheaply."

"And when we get insulted, we get greedy,” said one of the other men.

The small man grinned and nodded his head. “And nasty."

"So I hope you only have five thousand credits,” said a third man, approaching him. “You wouldn't like us when we're nasty."

"I don't like you much right now,” said Chandler.

"That's going to cost you another thousand, friend,” said the small man. “Or if you haven't got it, we'll take it out in trade."

"Now just hold still,” said the third man, stopping in front of Chandler and reaching for his tunic pocket. “Or this is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me."

"I doubt it,” said Chandler. He flexed his wrist and the concealed projectile weapon slid into his hand. He fired point-blank into the man's chest, then used him as a shield while he sprayed the chamber with bullets.

Two seconds later he was the only man standing. Three of his antagonists lay absolutely still, and the small man was writhing in agony, clutching his belly in a futile effort to staunch the flow of blood.

"You in the tunnel,” said Chandler. “Come out with your hands up."

He heard footsteps running away from him, quickly stepped to the entrance to the tunnel, and fired twice. The sounds of the explosion was deafening, but as they faded he was able to hear the weak, rasping moans of the man he had shot.

He quickly walked to the small man and appropriated his laser rifle.

"Help me!” hissed the man.

"The way you helped me?” asked Chandler caustically.

"I'm dying, damn it!"

"You're probably good for another hour or so,” said Chandler. “Tell me where I can find the Blue Devil and I'll send help for you."

"You go to hell!"

"Warm up a seat for me,” said Chandler, straightening up and heading off into the left-hand tunnel.

"Wait!” cried the small man weakly.

Chandler turned but did not approach him. “Is there something you want to tell me?"

"A Blue Devil entered the tunnels about five minutes ahead of you."

"Where can I find him?"

"Help me first!"

Chandler shook his head. “By the time I get you to a doctor, he'll be long gone. Tell me where he is, and if I get done with my business in time, I'll contact the nearest medics and tell them where to find you."

"They won't come down here."

"That's your problem. Mine is finding the Blue Devil."

"You'll never find him without me."

"I'll never find him if I waste any more time with you,” said Chandler.

"I'll make a deal!” gasped the man. “Get me to a doctor and I'll help you find him."

"He'll be back on Hades before you can get to a hospital.” Chandler turned toward the tunnel once more.

"You can't leave me here!"

"That's precisely what you were going to do to me,” replied Chandler. “You might consider it poetic justice."

"Who are you?” demanded the man.

"I'm the man who killed you,” answered Chandler, heading off into the tunnel. The man's protests and curses grew weaker and weaker, and finally vanished as Chandler turned a corner.

The tunnels were illuminated by a dim Eternalight every ten yards, and he soon saw a pattern to them: most of the lights were purple, but an orange one preceded a fork and a green one a chamber where two or more tunnels joined.

He continued going from one tunnel to another, borrowed laser rifle at the ready. From time to time he could hear the shuffling of feet in distant corridors, but by the time he approached them they were gone.

He realized that if the Blue Devil knew its way around the tunnels he was never going to catch up with it, than indeed it had probably already surfaced through some other manhole or exit. But Gin had never mentioned Blue Devils when describing the tunnels, and the man he had just killed hadn't referred to the Blue Devil by name, so there was a better-than-even chance that the Blue Devil he was chasing had no more business being in the tunnels than he himself did, and that in turn meant there was at least a possibility that it was even now undergoing the same treatment that he had been threatened with in that first chamber.

A green light told him he was approaching another chamber, and he slowed his pace, listening intently. When he was within ten feet of the entrance he could hear two people—a man and a woman—conversing in muffled tones.

He made his way to the chamber in utter silence. They both had their backs to him, and were still speaking softly.

"They say it was the Whistler,” the man was saying. “He killed the Surgeon earlier today."

"Why would he want to take over the tunnels?” asked the woman. “We're small change to a high roller like him."

"When you want to be a kingpin, you don't worry about large or small,” answered the man knowingly. “You grab for it all."

"Well, if he comes down here, he's going to wish he'd stayed up top."

"He's already down here,” said the man. “Who else could have killed Boris and the others? It's got to be the Whistler."

"Whistler or not, if he shows his face, I'll slice him."

"Freeze!” said Chandler softly, stepping into the chamber. “Not a word, not a movement."

Both of them tensed, but neither moved.

"Nobody's slicing anyone,” continued Chandler, approaching them. “Turn around."

They turned to face him.

"You're the Whistler?” asked the man.

"Some people call me that,” answered Chandler.

"You're not taking over the tunnels!” snarled the woman. “I don't care how good you are, you can't kill all of us!"

"I don't want to kill any of you,” said Chandler. “I just want some information."

"Then why did you kill Boris and his men?” she demanded.

"They wouldn't give it to me."

"We don't turn on our own, Whistler,” said the man defiantly. “You might as well shoot us right now."

"I don't want one of your own,” replied Chandler. “I'm after a Blue Devil."

"We got no Blue Devils down here,” said the woman. “Just Men."

"He doesn't work for you, at least I don't think so. He entered the tunnels a couple of minutes ahead of me.” He paused. “I want him."

"What for?"

"That's none of your business, but it has nothing to do with the tunnels. I want no part of them."

"Why should we believe you?” she persisted.

"Because the only other reason I could have for being here is to kill you, and you're still alive,” said Chandler.

The man and woman exchanged looks.

"If we take you to the Blue Devil, that's all you want?” said the man. “You'll take him up top and leave the tunnels to us?"

Chandler nodded. “That's all I want."

"And you won't ever come back down here again?"

"I can't promise that. But I won't come back down without a reason."

The man stared at him for a long moment, then nodded his head. “All right, you've got a deal."

"Lead the way,” said Chandler.

"I've got to find out where your Blue Devil is first."

"Can you do it without leaving my sight?” asked Chandler.

"Yes."

As the two men conversed, the woman's hand had moved down to her belt and closed over the handle of a knife.

"Pull it out and you're going to spend the rest of your life with one arm,” said Chandler ominously.

"Don't be stupid,” snapped the man. “This is the Whistler you're facing!"

She glared at him for a moment, then relaxed and dropped her hand to her side.

The man looked around the chamber, picked up two small stones, then walked to one of the corridors and clicked them against a wall in an irregular pattern. The sounds were still echoing in the dank air as he walked to a second corridor and clicked them again. He then repeated the procedure at the entrance to the corridor from which Chandler had emerged.

"It's our own code,” said the man, returning to the center of the chamber. “If your Blue Devil is anywhere in the tunnels, we'll know it in a minute or two."

"If you've called for help,” said Chandler, “I want you to know that I have no intention of dying alone."

"If we all keep calm, nobody has to die at all,” said the man. “You just make sure you take your Blue Devil up top and don't come back."

They fell silent again, waiting for a reply to the message. About 90 seconds later they heard a faint tapping, followed by a shrill whistle.

"All right,” said the man, turning to Chandler. “We've got the Blue Devil."

"Let's go."

"It's not going to be that easy. They've figured out that you're the one who wants him.” He paused. “They're willing to sell him to you."

"How much?” asked Chandler.

"It's negotiable."

"You're sure this is the one who entered just ahead of me?"

"It's the only Blue Devil that's entered the tunnels all night. They know what's likely to happen to them down here.” He paused. “So are you willing to bid for him?"

"I'm willing to pay a reasonable price,” said Chandler.

"And if we don't agree to your price?” asked the woman, still staring sullenly at him.