"Wait a sec." LaFavre shook his head, but he was still looking at the stage. "What was that name? A Russian?"

"Simon Letsky." Wilder had a feeling LaFavre didn't have much blood left in his brain at the moment and he wished they had met somewhere where his friend could focus on the problem more closely.

LaFavre whistled, either at the information or the girl, who was now slowly sliding down the pole while simultaneously removing her top. "That's some deep shit. Letsky's bad, real bad. I've seen his name more than once on the daily intel sheets. He's worth billions. Arms dealer. And he's got ties to bad people. People who've shot at you."

Wilder processed that. He'd been shot at by Taliban in Afghanistan, insurgents in Iraq, and Al-Qaeda operatives in other places he wasn't supposed to have been.

"How can I help you?" LaFavre asked, leaning forward in the seat to get a better angle on the girl.

"I might need backup."

The song thudded to a halt and LaFavre sighed and leaned back in his chair, finally sparing Wilder a glance. "Man. This is the United States. Not the 'Stan. Not that I don't appreciate you saving my butt there, but…"

"I know." Wilder waited, hoping LaFavre would give him an answer before the next dancer completely wiped his brain clean.

LaFavre rubbed his chin. "We keep a Little Bird gunship and a Night-hawk on ten-minute alert all the time now. Both armed. But the order to put those in the air over the good ole U-S of A has to come from someone more mighty than thou."

Wilder didn't say anything, letting LaFavre wrestle with his official duty and his sense of honor. The music cranked and a new girl began crawling across the stage, taking LaFavre's attention.

"Well, my friend, since Finnegan and Letsky are sort of terrorists, I guess it is part of this here global war on terrorism," LaFavre finally said. "But don't call me about a paper cut or anything. Better be some real shit, with real danger, to real people."

Wilder felt relieved. "Thanks."

"Anything else?" LaFavre asked, as he smiled at the girl and twirled a ten-dollar bill.

Wilder shook his head. "Nope. Got a parry to get to."

"Ah, yes." LaFavre reached in his pocket and pulled out a small package, without taking his eyes off the girl. "Present this with my compliments to the young lady."

Wilder took it. "Okay," he said, confused.

"How do I get hold of you?" LaFavre said, and then the girl spun onto her back, legs spread wide, and clamped them down on LaFavre's head, just like the pole, as he slid the bill under the side of her G-string.

"Call one-eight-hundred-clusterfuck," Wilder said, not sure LaFavre could hear.

"That bad?" The voice was muffled.

"Could be worse," Wilder said as he remembered Lucy. "You got my Satphone number. Use that."

The girl undamped and moved on to her next victim. "I got it," LaFavre said, looking a little dazed, his aviator glasses askew on his face.

A voice cut through the thumping music: "Hey, asshole."

Wilder twisted his head and blinked at the five-foot-tall, abnormally big-busted, red-haired fireball who was glaring at LaFavre, now straightening his sunglasses. How the hell does she keep from tipping over? Wilder wondered.

"Ahh, Ginny baby," LaFavre said in his deepest accent, matching it with a smile Wilder envied. Now that was a reassuring smile.

But it didn't work. "Don't 'Ginny baby' me, you shit," the tiny girl said, leaning forward, apparently not caring that her massive breasts fell out of her sheer robe. Post-Althea, Wilder was not impressed. He was more concerned that the tattooed bouncer was edging closer, trying to listen in.

LaFavre dug into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "I got a dime here and-"

"You owe me five dimes," Ginny countered. "I told you not to come by if you didn't have it all."

"A down payment," LaFavre said.

Ginny went past Wilder as if he weren't there and shoved her breasts into LaFavre's face. "You wanted them, you pay for them. That was the deal."

Wilder was puzzled for a second, then the lightbulb went on as Ginny smashed LaFavre's face into her cleavage. "That's your last touch until you pay in full," Ginny said, relieving LaFavre of the roll of money.

She bounced off, Tattoo Man edged back, and Wilder stared at LaFavre, who seemed pretty happy about handing a thousand dollars to a woman who had just called him an asshole.

LaFavre smiled. "She's something, is she not?"

Althea would have had LaFavre's life savings in ten minutes, Wilder thought, as he nodded in what he hoped was lecherous agreement. He tried to find the right word. "Unbelievable." That seemed to cover it.

"Worth every cent," LaFavre went on. "I look on them as an investment in her future." He pointed. Ginny took the stage, and within a minute was doing things that made Wilder reconsider-perhaps Ginny could teach Althea a thing or two. The music pounded behind her and Wilder caught a snatch of the lyric: "In these shoes?" Shoes. He thought of Lucy in those red boots up there on stage. Wonder Woman. Now that he'd pay money to see.

LaFavre leaned over as Ginny writhed along the edge of the stage, gathering money in her G-string from the slack-jawed men lining it. When she got to LaFavre he slid a twenty among the sweat-soaked greenbacks already stuffed there. "Do the pole, baby," LaFavre begged.

Ginny gave LaFavre a look that reminded Wilder of some of the ones that had been directed at him lately. "There's no money on the pole, dumb shit."

Excellent logic, Wilder thought, and also time for him to be going. He stood up and shook LaFavre's hand. "Thanks. I owe you."

LaFavre's eyes were on Ginny and his investments, now moving away. "Well, we are all supposed to be on the same side, but if this blows up, I never talked to you, I don't know you, and I disavow that you were even born."

"Good to know you got my back," Wilder said, knowing LaFavre wasn't hearing anything anymore.

If the terrorists ever hired Ginny, the free world was screwed.

Chapter 12

Lucy caught the last shuttle back to base camp, so tired she sat with her head on the back of the seat, letting it bounce as the shuttle went over the ruts. Too much tension last night, too much tension all day, and then making a fool of herself over Wilder in front of the whole cast and crew-

"I need sleep," she said as the bus pulled into base camp and then opened her eyes when she realized she'd said it out loud.

Nobody paid any attention.

Okay, she thought, as she got off the bus and headed for the camper. Check on Daisy, find Gloom, drive the camper back to the hotel, take a shower to get the dust off, then a hot bath so you can sleep…

She opened the camper door and Pepper said, "Hooray, Aunt Lucy is here! The party can start!" and beamed, her WonderWear a bright splotch against the white camper curtains.

"Party!" Lucy said, trying desperately to sound excited. "This is-" She stopped as she caught sight of Daisy, sitting in one of the swivel chairs beside Pepper, her generous figure making the most of her size-small WonderWear. "Wow," she said and started to laugh.

"Laugh while you can, Monkey Girl," Daisy said. "Your Wonder-Wear awaits." She tossed a gold-painted rope across to her. "Do not forget the Lasso of Truth. We are nothing without our lassos."

"Put it on, Aunt Lucy," Pepper said, and Lucy laughed again and climbed into the camper.

She dropped the rope on the table and stripped off her jeans, shirt, and tank top. Then she pulled on the blue-starred pants and red camisole with the double gold Ws over her underwear. "What do you think?" she said to them as she went back to the dinette.

Daisy burst out laughing.

"You look wonderful," Pepper said. "We all look wonderful."

Lucy slid into the swivel chair next to her, trying to forget her dreams of a hot bath. "So we need cake, right?"

"Gloom is bringing it," Pepper said importantly. "With a surprise."

"Gloom's surprises are excellent," Lucy said.

"And J.T. is coming."

"Good for J.T.," Lucy said, feeling more cheerful. "So what happens at a Wonder Woman party?"

"Well, we can talk about Wonder Woman," Pepper said. "We can each say something we know about her."

"I know something," Daisy said, bringing up a paper bag from under the table. "Or at least Estelle in wardrobe knows something." She took three gold lame headbands out of the bag, each with a big red star glued in the middle.

"Crowns!" Pepper said, achieving ecstasy on the spot. She spread them out and took the smallest one. "They go on like this," she said, shoving the crown over her head, the elastic strip in back so that the lame went across her forehead.

"Like that." Lucy watched Daisy pull hers on. "You look very cute in that," she said with a straight face.

"Uh huh," Daisy said. "Put your crown on, Aunt Lucy."

"Take your braid down first," Pepper said.

Lucy pulled the tie from the end of her braid and shook her hair loose. Then she pulled the headband on.

"You know," Daisy said, "you actually kind of look like her."

"You do" Pepper said. "Go see yourself."

Lucy got up and opened the door to the tiny bathroom. Her hair color was right, but the rest, not so much. "Nope. I don't think Wonder Woman is ever going to look like she's thirty-four." She turned back to Daisy. "You know, I used to think her uniform was sort of…" She shot a glance at Pepper, who waited to hear. "Not… fashionable."