Ripping Time by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Maybrick, lying there in a drugged stupor, smiled.

Maniacal bastard.

Lachley flexed his hands, clenching them into fists and glared down at the pathetic creature on his work table. I’ll personally certify your death after they’ve hung you on the gallows. It can’t be too soon, either, damn your eyes.

Two bloody weeks . . . and two more dirty whores to be killed. Preferably, in one night. If he didn’t destroy them both on the same night, God alone knew how long it would be before Maybrick could tear himself away from business and family in Liverpool and return to finish this up. Yes, they would have to die on the same night, next time. Bloody hell . . . and they would have constables crawling like roaches through these streets, by then.

But it had got to be done, regardless, too much depended on it. All told, it was enough to drive a sane man into an asylum.

* * *

The message arrived on Gideon Guthrie’s computer via e-mail.

Trouble brewing, TT-86. Targets have escaped via two separate gates, Denver and London. Senator Caddrick has departed for terminal with entourage, vowing to close station. Please advise your intentions.

It had been relayed through so many servers, rerouted across so many continents, tracing it back to the original sender would have stymied the efforts even of the CIA and Interpol. When Gideon read Cyril Barris’ message, he swore explosively. That goddamned, grandstanding idiot! He’d told Caddrick, dammit, to stay out of this! Did the jackass really want to end up in prison?