Martin peeked over the top of his magazine to scan the passenger car again.

Something was wrong. He had lost contact with Marcella three days ago. When an assassin lost contact with his secretary, that meant one of two things: either she had turned on him or she had been killed.

Marcella would never have turned on Martin; she adored him.

First Debi, now Marcella. If Grocer's behind this one, I'm going to kill him twice. Martin thought glumly to himself. He was quite fond of his eccentric secretary, and if nothing else, the thought of having to find another one was…annoying at best.

Could Grocer have been behind this? He had disappeared after shooting Debi down south; Martin had been unable to track him.

You'd think finding a hitman strapped to a wheelchair wouldn't be too hard.

But it had been hard; Martin had tracked Grocer for three weeks before the trail went cold, and by then, the weariness and depression caused by Debi's death had been weighing him down like an anchor.

Marcella had suggested taking jobs again, offering to become his coordinator again. At first Martin had balked; after all, he had discovered a newfound respect for life in Debi and the life they had together. Now that Debi was gone, murdered, though, that respect for life was quickly draining away.

After the night he had met Léon, though, things had begun to slow down again; jobs lost their allure, and he actually passed up several juicy contracts.

And now Marcella was missing.

Hence the train ride to New Jersey, where their offices had been. Blank always took his own car everywhere; if there were ghouls looking for him, they'd expect him in his car, not taking trains and taxis to the office. Hopefully, the ruse would throw them off.

Correction: The ruse should have thrown them off.

But now, peeking over the magazine for the third time in 15 minutes, Martin looked again at a ghoul sitting not 20 feet away from him in the crowded car. The man had gotten on 10 platforms ago, his Armani suit ill-fitting over a powerful brawler's frame. Martin recognized his face; they had once served together in a Chinese dictator's army, years ago.

The guy noticed Martin looking and tipped a wink at him. Martin cursed softly and rose, walking swiftly to the back of the car and the exit door.

After closing the door behind him, Martin turned and quickly climbed the emergency ladder to the roof of the car. He was almost to the top when the ghoul's hand closed around his ankle. Martin kicked out with his other foot, but the large man was freakishly fast and yanked Martin off of his feet…and tossed him off of the train!

Martin pinwheeled through the air, realizing that he had played right into the ghoul's plan, as he had tried to escape just as the train was coming up on a suspension bridge.

He fell 150 feet to the water below.