Disclaimer: Lupin III and all its characters belong to Monkey Punch and probably Pioneer...at any rate, not to me. Alex is all mine, however, so ask real nice before you borrow her.

*Author's note: yeah yeah, I know, this one took forever. summer vacations-- they happen, and sometimes they don't have computers. once again, thanks to all the uber-encouraging reviewers out there, especially musetta-person (edward says ooh la la!)...glad you're all enjoying it. Now that Lupin's not on Adult Swim anymore, this is the only way I get my fix.

Chapter 5: Somewhere They Can't Find Me

"But I've got to creep down the alleyway/ Fly down the highway/ Before they come to catch me I'll be gone/ Somewhere/ They can't find me..."
--Simon and Garfunkel, "Somewhere They Can't Find Me"

Before any of her other senses returned, Alex Rhodes could smell the ocean. Smelled it--noticeable, but not too heavy--then tasted it, then tasted blood on her tongue. After that, awareness came to her in waves: first she felt an ache; next, she felt the limb from which that ache came; last, she felt the cushions on which her limbs rested. Body, bed, room, and then she was awake.

Jesus, she thought, wincing as she brought a hand up to her temple. Did they really have to be that rough?

With consciousness came memory, disorientation, and anxiety all at once. She knew where she *ought* to be--or at any rate, who she ought to be *with*--but had it worked? She braced herself for the shock of daylight and opened her eyes.

When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a long, screened-in porch that someone had outfitted as a bedroom. Out of long habit she scanned the room critically, getting a sense of its dimensions, looking for obstacles and escapes. Two doors, she noted. One, presumably, led to other rooms, while the other opened out onto a vast expanse of hill and brush--at the far horizon of which she could just barely discern the ocean. High up, she thought, very high elevation indeed, for that smell to carry. Judging from the sunlight spilling in through the curtained screens, she figured it was early in the afternoon, most likely one or two o' clock.

Turning her attention to the room itself, she discerned the black jacket she'd worn to the House of Winston, neatly folded over the back of a wicker chair. A small chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall; and an old- fashioned oval mirror hung on the wall above it. Just beside her bed stood a wicker night table, topped by a lamp and--praises be!--a glass of water.

Alex sat up with a groan and rested her arms on her knees, letting her head swim until it cleared. She reached a shaky hand out to the glass and gulped down the water, which seemed to pound in her ears. Ugh. When people got knocked out in the movies, she mused, they woke up with someone holding a warm cloth to their heads. They got to ask, "where am I?" and get a sympathetic grin in return. Alex scowled. So much for Hollywood.

Her head a little steadier after the water, Alex hoisted herself up off the bed and walked over to the mirror.

"Yikes!" She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but then she hadn't thought she'd look so awful. The bruise over her right temple was the size of a baseball, blotched with yellow in some places and green in others. Her upper lip was cut and swollen, and someone had carefully bandaged a savage cut just above her left eyebrow. She began to brush her blonde hair over the bruise, but soon gave up. It was too large to hide, and anyhow, her damaged appearance could only work to her benefit, if she was where she thought she was.

Voices drifted in from the next room; one, a woman's, was honey-smooth and resonant. The other was high and nasal; judging from its languid tone, it belonged to a very confident young man. It was when this latter voice uttered the name "Fujiko" that Alex knew all had gone according to plan. She took her jacket from the chair and pulled it gingerly over her shoulders, trying not to yelp at the little twinges that shot through her torso from the movement. She looked around and found her shoes, tucked under the chest of drawers. She padded soundlessly to the door, slipped the shoes on, pressed her ear to the door, and began listening.

**************************************************************************** *

"Damn it," Fujiko Mine spat, throwing a crumpled newspaper to the floor. "I mean, it's just not fair! Those should be OUR diamonds, and this should be OUR publicity!"

Lupin III picked up the discarded front page and looked over the headlines that were presently upsetting his sometime-partner.

DARING JEWEL HEIST FOILED Gems Returned To Grateful Jeweler

Beverly Hills, CA-- Hollywood's glitterati breathed a sigh of relief today, after police recovered scores of gems stolen last night from the Harry Winston Salon on Rodeo Drive. Among the recovered treasures was the famous Star of the East, which was scheduled to be sold at an undisclosed price this morning. The sale has been postponed until investigations are completed, but as of this printing all of Harry Winston's inventory was present and accounted for.

The robbery occurred shortly after midnight, the thieves apparently having circumvented Winston's elaborate motion-sensor security system in order to obtain access. Police were alerted when one of the thieves, presumably inadvertently, activated the alarm system while leaving the premises.

The daring nature of the crime, along with the presence of Interpol officials at the crime scene, has led many to ask whether this might not be the work of internationally-known jewel thief Arsene Lupin III, an allegation which Interpol's own Inspector Zenigata strongly denies.

"Mark my words, this isn't Lupin's doing," the inspector told the Times. "Looks to us like these guys beat him to the punch. But we've got the jewels, and soon we'll have our men."...

With a roar, Lupin crumpled the paper back up and threw it into the corner.

"Damn is right, Fuji-cakes," he moaned. "Pops is having a field day with that stupid note I left him!"

"Note?"

"Yeah...I left him the usual, you know: 'hey Pops, Lupin was here, betcha I find the diamonds first,' so on and so on. Damn! I knew being a cocky bastard was going to catch up with me someday." He flopped face-down onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushions.

"Poor Lupin," Fujiko cooed sympathetically, sitting down beside him. Lupin sighed into the cushions.

"Not to mention that I got my best friend a couple of totally unneccessary new scars. Once again, a personal disappointment to top off a professional failure." He raised himself up on one elbow and rested his chin on his hand. "The only good thing I can see is, at least those bastards didn't get away with the diamonds."

"That's another thing I don't get," Fujiko put in. "If these guys were good enough to get the diamonds before we did, how is it they were sloppy enough to get caught?"

"Well, stranger things have happened," Lupin reasoned. "Maybe old Pops just got lucky. He can be a pretty decent detective, you know--when he's not dealing with me." Fujiko cast a doubtful look at him. "Besides, baby doll, they didn't actually get *caught*--they just dropped the diamonds."

"That doesn't really make it any less weird, Lupin," Fujiko retorted. "That was a tough break in! You can bet *I* damn well wouldn't have let the Star out of my hands just like that!"

"Neither would I," Lupin smirked, "unless I was letting it fall into *your* lovely hands." Fujiko scowled. "But suppose for a second, Fuji-cakes, that these guys needed cash. Suppose they had a buyer for the Star of the East all lined up already."

"Instead of holding on to it and taking bids like we would?"

"Right. Like I said, let's say they needed cash too badly to bargain. So they go in real carefully--so carefully that even *we* don't notice they've been there until it's too late--what does all that suggest to you?"

"They were buying themselves the time to make the sale," Goemon replied, as he walked into the room. "Just like we were buying ourselves time to leave the country." He set a tray of bandages and foul-smelling Japanese herbs on a side table and sat down in an armchair across from Lupin and Fujiko.

"Hiya Goemon," Lupin said. "You took the words right outta my mouth." Goemon bowed slightly. "So they were buying time, and they would have made it, too. But when they ran into us, they had to make enough noise to get us off their tails. Noise equals police equals discovery equals publicity-- big, bad publicity. Suddenly it's too hot to move the diamonds, AND you've got identification and capture to worry about. It's fish or cut bait, so our strapped-for-cash competitors drop the excess baggage and bolt."

"Identification?" Fujiko looked puzzled. "What, you're saying we would just stroll over to the police? 'By the by, while we were trying to steal the diamonds, we saw the guys who really did it?'" Lupin shook his head.

"Nope. I'm just saying I wasn't the only one who left a little calling-card behind."

In the next room, her ear still against the door, Alex deduced where Lupin's theory was headed and decided she needed to make her entrance. She opened the door halfway and slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She tiptoed across the hallway and stopped at the doorway to the living room, one hand resting on the frame. Okay baby, she thought. It's showtime.

"What on earth are you talking about, 'calling-card'?" Fujiko asked. "You mean--" her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the blonde woman standing in the doorway.

"I have the feeling," the woman said timidly, "he's talking about me."

At the sound of her voice, Goemon jumped and turned around in his chair. While treating Jigen's wounds, he had nearly forgotten about the girl in the diamond cart. Lupin raised himself to a sitting position and leaned against the back of the couch, hands folded behind his head.

"You betcha, Miss--er--" he stopped. "Sorry, I forgot; we haven't really been introduced." He stood, smoothed his tie, and walked over to the doorway, offering a handshake. "Lupin the third. These here are Goemon Ishikawa and Fujiko Mine, my associates. And you are?"

"Pleased to meet you," she said, speaking softly as a concession to her pounding head. "I'm Alex Rhodes."

"Pleasure's all ours, Miss Rhodes. Anyway," Lupin continued, scarcely missing a beat. "You're right, I *was* just talking about you." He turned to Fujiko and Goemon. "The thing is, while you guys were having your little shootout, I was taking a good look at the last diamond cart--and at Miss Rhodes, who was in it." Fujiko made a small noise of disdain. "What was that, Fuji-cakes?"

"Never mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "Hopeless." Lupin winked at her and continued.

"You see, when I looked at the other carts, I saw that their lids had been cut at the lock once already--sorry you wasted all that energy cutting 'em open, Goemon. But the lock on the fourth cart hadn't been broken before. Either the other guys had no interest in its contents, or the lock was a completely new one substituted for the original. Based on the cart's contents, I figured the latter. Moreover, those boxes are pretty airtight, and she was pretty banged up. I'm guessing Miss Rhodes here wasn't supposed to come out of that cart alive."

At this, the Miss Rhodes in question gave an involuntary little gasp. Asphyxiation was *not* part of the plan. Those bruises *were* a bit excessive, she thought. A resurgence in her headache wiped her mind clean for a moment, and she leaned more heavily against the doorway.

"For Buddha's sake, Lupin!" Goemon, who'd been watching Alex closely, jumped out of his chair in indignation. "The girl is quite obviously still in some pain, and has suffered trauma to the head. You might at least allow her to sit, before you begin theorizing about attempts on her life." Lupin's face fell suddenly, and he reddened.

"Aw, geez Goemon...Miss Rhodes, I'm sorry..."

"Please forgive my--associate's--insensitivity. He is apt to forget his rather considerable reputation as a gentleman." Goemon walked over and took Alex's arm, leading her to the sofa. She curled her legs gingerly beneath her, and propped one elbow on the armrest. Goemon stood beside her, lifting the bandage over her eyebrow and turning her head to examine the bruise on her temple.

"How do you feel, Miss Rhodes? Are you experiencing any dizziness?"

"Not anymore," she told the samurai. "When I first sat up, there was some."

"No nausea?" She shook her head no. "And your vision?"

"Clear," she replied, seeing where he was headed. "I've had concussions before, and this isn't one, if that's what you're wondering."

"Hmm. Actually, I had more or less ruled out concussion beforehand. But it never hurts to ask."

"Ruled out beforehand? What do you mean?" Goemon gave the still-shamefaced Lupin a suggestive look, then excused himself to the kitchen. The master thief came over and sat across from Alex.

"Well, I don't know how long you were out before I found you," Lupin said, "but it's three in the afternoon now...you've been unconscious for at least twelve hours." Alex nodded.

"Yeah, I, uh, knew that. Thing is, Miss Rhodes...unconscious that long from a few bruises? And now, you wake up without concussion symptoms? It just doesn't look quite right. Those knocks to the head hurt, I'm sure, but our guess is they didn't knock you out. You were drugged." Alex stared hard at the floor, searching her foggy memories of the previous night for answers.

"Drugged," she said flatly. "My god." Her mind drifted back, back to the evening before-- to the diner. They'd stopped en route to Beverly Hills, and she'd left for a few minutes--ostensibly to the bathroom, but really to make a phone call.

(This coffee is awful, she'd said upon returning. Tastes like the cream's turned sour. Eh, he'd replied, what do you expect in a dive like this? Long as there's nothing crawling in it, right?)

She sighed and rubbed her forehead in weary frustration. "The coffee." Fujiko looked at Alex with some concern.

"Not to pry or anything, but," Fujiko paused, "but how did this happen? Who were those guys?" Alex smiled sourly.

"Well, something tells me I'm no longer part of 'those guys.' But from what I overheard--and sorry to eavesdrop, by the way--sounds like Mr. Lupin already has most of it worked out." She smiled What I can't figure is where you guys fit in...you mean to say that--just by coincidence--two teams decided to hit the same store on the same night, and you just ran into one another?"

"Sort of," Lupin said. "Only it's not so much of a coincidence that two teams of thieves would go for a score like..."

"Like the Star of the East. Fair enough...but I didn't realize its sale had become common knowledge." She smiled gratefully at Goemon as he returned from the kitchen, bearing a steaming mug of tea.

"It wasn't. But then," Lupin added smirkingly, "we're not common thieves." Alex laughed.

"Touche," she conceded. "Well, we were. And you were dead on, Mr. Lupin. We were in it for the cash; I'm not at all surprised they dropped the stones when things got too hot. None of us had--or wanted-- anything this big on our records." She paused thoughtfully. "Did you happen, at Winston, to run into a particularly all-American type--tall, blond, blandly unpleasant?" Fujiko gasped; the man who'd shot Jigen had been a blond, beefy type.

"I'll take that gasp as a yes. He goes by the name Roger Blue. I suppose you would call him the ringleader. He called the rest of us in as out-of- towners--said he wanted people who weren't locally connected. But he was real suspicious of all of us anyhow. I know thieves thrive on paranoia, but this was just unprofessional and irritating." She shrugged. "Guess he decided I was up to no good. We got to Winston and got past the motion sensors--"

"How'd you manage that, by the way?"

"Screwing with their frequencies as we walked past them," she said. Lupin chuckled; poor Jigen, he would be so disappointed to find his efforts were wasted. "Anyway, once we were in the back, Roger stopped me. 'Nuh-uh,' he said, 'not you.' He turned to the other guys. 'The split goes four ways now,' he said. 'Take her down.' And," she said, her breath shuddering, "they did. That's all I remember."

"I'd say that's about all I'd *want* to remember of a night like that," Lupin said, reaching across to pat her knee reassuringly. "Well, what would you say to some lunch, Miss Rhodes? Or perhaps, given your ordeal, would a drink be in order? I'd suggest rest, but you probably got all the sleep you could possibly want."

"For now, I'm quite satisfied with Goemon's excellent tea, thanks. But actually," she added after a hesitant pause, "a bath would be wonderful."

"I think that can be arranged," Lupin said eagerly--a little too eagerly, it seemed, for Fujiko quickly stepped in.

"I'll show you to the bathroom, Alex," Fujiko said, beginning to lead her into the hall. "Oh! I almost forgot! The bathtub is attached to the second bedroom. We're using that one as a temporary infirmary," she explained. "Goemon? How's our patient?"

"He is sleeping quite soundly. You will not disturb him." Patient? Alex noted the tray of bandages on the side table but said nothing, and followed Fujiko obediently to the bedroom.

The room was considerably larger than the sunroom where she'd awakened, but just as simply furnished. Shades had been drawn, giving the room a muted amber cast and the overall feel of an invalid's room. But the bearded man lying asleep in the bed wasn't sick; as she walked past, Alex could see the heavy bandages over his right shoulder, stained with blood in two distinct places. Gunshot wounds, she thought, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She turned to Fujiko.

"Roger did that, didn't he?" The other woman, eyeing Alex coldly, nodded once. Alex dropped her head and whispered, "the bastard." There seemed to be nothing more to say; Alex thanked Fujiko and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She doesn't much like me, does she, Alex thought.

She sat down on the edge of the tub while it filled with water and the mirrors fogged with steam. As much as she hated to admit it, things had spun a bit beyond her control; she wasn't the least bit comfortable with having been drugged, even if it had come out all right in the end. But then, there was nobody she could blame for it. Latching on to Roger Blue had been her idea in the first place, because all her reconnaissance work had shown her a desperate thief who would attempt to steal the Star, come hell or high water. She hadn't found out about the paranoia or the hair- trigger temper until later, after she'd already signed on for the job.

Alex found a small vial of bath bubbles on the countertop and added a capful to the water. When a layer of foam bubbles covered the surface, she undressed and slid into the tub. She sighed, and sank further beneath the bubbles. The injured man in the next room; that bothered her also. If he were very seriously hurt thanks to *her* associates, it would be difficult to gain the confidence of the group--provided her guilt didn't get the better of her first, and persuade her to bail. Process of elimination told her who the injured man was, though, and she'd heard he was one hell of a tough cookie. She hoped the rumors were true.

**************************************************************************** ****

Leaving Alex to herself in the bathroom, Fujiko swept back into the living room like an indignant whirlwind.

"Don't you think we're being just a *bit* careless, Lupin?" Lupin looked up at her from the sofa, where he'd resumed his former lounging position, and shook his head.

"Only as careless as we're obliged to be, Fuji-cakes." Fujiko's jaw dropped in a melodramatic expression of shock.

"Obliged? Since when are we obliged to anything?"

"Since we got her out of Harry Winston in the first place. What were we gonna do? Leave her unconscious at the curbside somewhere along the way? Abandoning a damsel in distress--that ain't my style, babe."

"Hmph! With emphasis on the 'damsel' part, I suppose." Lupin sat up, an amused look on his face.

"Why, Fujiko Mine, I'll be damned. You're jealous!" He laughed and gave the armrest a slap. "Well, well, well!"

"Oh grow up," she retorted, stamping one high-heel-clad foot. "I'm no such thing. I just think it's foolish to compromise our security because you've got a thing for blondes with bruises!"

"Hey," Lupin said, an edge of anger creeping into his voice, "I told you, that's got nothing to do with it. I had a perfectly good reason for bringing her with." Lupin got up and stood face to face with the fuming Fujiko. "Now what's this really all about?"

"Children, children," Goemon interceded, stepping between the two. "Let us approach this problem calmly." Lupin and Fujiko, still scowling at one another, sat down on opposite sides of the coffee table.

"Fine, Goemon," Fujiko sulked. "Then make him explain what's going on, and why she's here." Goemon nodded to Lupin, who gave an exasperated sigh.

"She's here because when I found her, I didn't know how she fit in, and she wasn't exactly in any shape to tell me. It didn't seem right to leave her for the police, since it looked like she'd just been the victim of a bad double-cross. I would have done it for anyone," he added, "damsel or no. Call it professional courtesy." Fujiko sighed.

"All right. I suppose I believe you. But why not leave her at a hospital or something? She's not really our problem."

"That had occurred to me, I admit. But there was Jigen to think about; I didn't want to waste any time. And then, Miss Mine, it occurred to me that if she was working with the bad guys, she might know where they were moving the stones. And since she doesn't seem to be on the friendliest terms with them anymore, she might even be willing to let us in on it."

"Of course it doesn't matter now," Fujiko put in sadly, "since they pretty much just handed them back to Zenigata."

"Fine, so that idea didn't pan out. Doesn't mean it was a bad idea." Lupin looked to Goemon, who gave an absentminded nod of agreement while looking contemplatively in the direction of the bedroom door. "All right. What are you looking so thoughtful about, Goemon?"

"The problem still remains of what is to become of her now," he said. "Her former partners have undoubtedly figured out by now that she is alive; none of the newspapers have mentioned a body at the scene. She could identify them--she has become a walking threat."

"You're thinking they might come after her?" Lupin asked.

"Perhaps. If she resurfaces, that is." He cast a meaningful glance at Lupin. "There are some familiar calluses on her hands; unless I'm very much mistaken, she is an able markswoman."

"I think I'm beginning to catch your drift, Goemon," came the thief's reply, "but we've already got a gunman, remember?" Lupin gestured with his thumb toward the bedroom. "He's just takin' a bit of a nap."

"When he wakes up from that nap, I am afraid he'll find that his right arm is rather out of commission--" Fujiko and Lupin jumped up simultaneously to meet the samurai's gaze, and began speaking all at once.

"Not--" Lupin began, his voice squeaking a bit, "not permanently, right?"

"Oh, Goemon!" Fujiko said in dismay. "You told me it wasn't that bad!" The samurai held out his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"He will not be permanently debilitated," Goemon continued, "but if he is ever to regain full strength and flexibility in his right arm, it would be best for him to rest it." Lupin sat back down, rubbing his forehead.

*************************************************************************

Alex drained the bathtub and pulled her clothes back on, trying to make the rumpled shirt a bit more presentable. Once again, she found herself barefoot: she'd set her shoes down in the bedroom in order to take the bath towels from Fujiko. Wrapping her damp hair in a towel, she padded out into the bedroom and retrieved the shoes. Once again, voices from the living room reached her ears; but this time, hearing Fujiko's voice rise and Lupin's grow shrill, she opted to take her time in the bathroom and wait for the fireworks to die down.

As she padded softly back to the bathroom, Alex stopped and looked again toward the injured man. Curiosity got the better of her, and forgetting about her shoes for the moment, she went over to the bed. In the dim light, she could discern the chiseled features she'd expected: stern brow, sharp nose, lips set in a hard line. The squared-off chin obscured by a somewhat legendary beard.

So this was the infamous Daisuke Jigen; the end-all be-all gunman to people who *really* understood guns. Alex had heard the stories from people in a position to know; how The Legacy, Lupin III, chose for his right-hand man a gangster with a fake name and no history, who could take out an entire helicopter in two shots.

He's younger than I'd expected, she thought.

****************************************************************************

Lupin sat turning Goemon's less-than-subtle suggestion over in his mind. Jigen would never stand for it, he was sure. And yet Lupin couldn't, in good conscience, let the gunman go back to work if it meant risking further injury. He looked at his comrades, both of whom were watching for his reaction. God, he hated these executive decisions.

****************************************************************************

Jigen's senses began to tingle, reactions fighting their way through his clouded brain.

(Something wrong? No. Maybe. Something different. Wake up.)

He tensed, triggering a tightness in his right side. It did not hurt, but he sensed that it would begin to hurt before long.

("...dirty pool, you sons of bitches!" Gunshots.)

He opened his eyes. The surroundings were all familiar; he was in the cabin Lupin had picked for a rendezvous point. The "something different" he'd sensed was a girl, and she had been sitting beside his bed. Now she gasped, and leapt back in surprise, the towel falling from her head.

Jigen looked her over; a small, blonde woman with damp hair, a nasty bruise, and a gash in her forehead. She stood back, a startled look still on her face. It was, he noted reflexively, a pretty face, bruises notwithstanding. He allowed himself to relax. A pretty face at Lupin's rendezvous point? Hardly likely to be a threat. In fact, she was looking at him like a deer staring at headlights. He blinked a few times, slowly, and managed a smile. The girl hesitantly moved back to his side, smiling back.

"Hello," she said shyly, with a small wave of her hand. The gunman raised an eyebrow by way of greeting. "Er...," she stuttered, somewhat at a loss. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," Jigen croaked. He surveyed her thoughtfully for a moment. "How 'bout you?"

"Me? I--I'm fine...?" Alex was puzzled. Why should a man with two bullets in him ask how *she* was doing?

"Looks like someone really went to work on that forehead of yours." Her hand flew to the gash; she had forgotten to bandage it again, after her bath.

"Oh," she laughed, "that. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Mm-hm," Jigen replied. "Good thing." He seemed so calm, Alex thought; unconcerned about the stranger in his room, unconcerned about his injuries. Perhaps he had a fever--his wounds could have become infected. She put a hand to his forehead. It was slightly damp, but not feverish.

"Can I...get you anything?" Alex asked.

"Glass of water would be nice," he replied. "And a cigarette, if you can find it." She poured a glass of water from a carafe on the bedside table, and began to search the drawers for cigarettes. "And your name."

She stopped her rummaging. "Pardon?"

"Your name," he repeated in an amused tone. "I always try to get a girl's name, when I wake up next to her."

"Very funny," she said, closing the drawers. She put the water glass to his lips, and he took a drink. "I suppose I was wondering when you'd ask about that. I'm Alex Rhodes," she said, holding out the glass again. "And I'm very pleased to meet you, Daisuke Jigen." He must have looked surprised, because she continued. "Oh, come now, a bearded man with a gunman's calluses--and injuries--working with Lupin the Third? Who else could you be?"

"Guilty as charged," Jigen chuckled. So much for just some pretty face. "Where did you come from, anyway?"

"Same place you did--Harry Winston."

(The sewers and Fujiko...Lupin rounding the corner, coming out of the dark with a bundle in his arms...)

"Ah, so you were the mystery bundle I saw just before blacking out." Alex nodded. Jigen pointed her toward the jacket hanging on the bedpost. Alex patted its pockets and came up with a single bent cigarette and a lighter. She placed the cigarette gently between his lips and lit it. He took an appreciative drag and exhaled.

"So," he said, gesturing with the smoking end toward her forehead. "Who gave you the souvenirs?"

"Probably the same guy who gave you those," she replied, pointing at his right shoulder.

"Hm," Jigen nodded. "That guy's bad news." They looked at each other and laughed until their respective wounds made them wince. Jigen noticed Alex clutching her side. "Did Goemon get a look at that?"

"Probably. I was still out. It's all bandaged---" The bedroom door opened, and Lupin came in, followed closely by Goemon and a somewhat cross-looking Fujiko.

"Oh, good. I see you two are already getting acquainted," Lupin said. He snatched Jigen's fedora off the dresser and brought it over to the bed, settling it on the gunman's head. "How're the flesh wounds, old man?"

"Not bad. How's that brain damage of yours?" Lupin pulled the hat brim down over Jigen's eyes.

"Nice work, Goemon," he said. "Looks like Jigen's as good as new. 'Cept for that bum arm, of course." Alex caught the offended look that passed over Jigen's features.

"It's nothing," he said. "It'll be fine in a week." Jigen looked up at Goemon. "Right, Goemon?"

"I am afraid," the samurai began, "that it would be unwise to begin using your arm so quickly." The offense on Jigen's face began to look a bit more like horror.

"We were thinking," Fujiko said carefully, "that you should maybe let yourself heal up, this time."

"Ha," Jigen chuckled nervously. "And leave you guys open to any yahoo with a Derringer? You wouldn't wanna try it." He was beginning to see where this was headed, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Well, we thought about that, too," Lupin said. He looked to his compatriots, and then to the girl sitting beside him on the bed. "How's your aim these days, Miss Rhodes?"