“Here you go, Guvnor,” said the blond man, smoking a cigarette as he held out a cylindrical device. It hummed in his hand, and he was glad to give it up. “I brought it back before the filth could find it. Fair messy business, too, cutting it out of Sunburst’s chest.”
“I imagine,” said the man in white quietly. He gently put the thing on his desk. “You’re free to go, Constantine.”
“So we’re even,” said John Constantine. “I don’t owe you another bloody thing for saving my life.” (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See The Night Force: Night Forces.]
“You’ll have to talk to my accountant,” said Baron Winters, waving at the leopard that watched them by the burning fire. “After all, how important is a life in the grand scheme of reality and so forth? I’ll give you a call if I need to use you again.”
“Don’t push me, Winters,” said Constantine. “I have a life, you know.”
“You should have thought about that before you decided to barter what you owe to me,” said Winters coldly. “Merlin will see you out. Good day, lout.”
Baron Winters picked up the engine and walked from the office.
“I know my way,” Constantine said to the big cat. “What I don’t know is what you see in that cantankerous bottom feeder.”
The cat snuffled slightly.
“Better you than me,” Constantine said, stepping across the threshold into the real world, thankful not to be a pawn in a game where no one knows who’s moving the pieces. He would never lead a Night Force, no matter what he owed.