It was in the same area as my old one, because I liked the neighbourhood and, if anything, it was even nicer than Claire’s. But I had made sure not ...o choose an apartment in the same block as Claire: that would have made life just too awkward.I was still ass-fucking Claire on a regular basis. Mostly it was in the Cleaning Manager’s office. Claire was desperately hunting for husband and babyfather material; she found plenty of candidates who measured up in the physical sense, but nobody who. She told me not to worry, she had assumed I meant to retain them and had had another set cut on the way to work."So keep them," she smiled. "You'll need them if you're going to keep using my flat as a handy knocking shop. How many girls this time, darling? Three? Four?" Just the one today," I assured her.She looked at me in mock concern. "Only one? Darling, you're slipping. Maybe the stuff is wearing off."I promised to show her after work whether it was wearing off.I got to the flat ten minutes. Alex picked up the knife and cleaned it carefully. He tucked his knife into a saddlebag and stuck hers in his own sheath.Choking down the bile that welled up inside him, Alex searched what remained of the house. They had searched, too, that much was clear, but the only thing in the place of any value to them, the guns, they had missed. The cache that Pops had built under the hearth was untouched. He poked through the rubble in desperation, but found no bones, nor any sign of his son.Then he. . where is the nearest armory?" At the city gates," said the Sergeant."Nobody said anything when we came through," John lied."You must have been unarmed then," said the Sergeant."Still are," John lied again. He had his staff."Keep the peace," said the Sergeant."Yes, sir," said John."You here for the burning Friday week?" asked the Sergeant."Yes ... could you direct us to the city administration?" That's the third time you've used the plural in your speech." The Sergeant looked at John closely..