"Yeah. Up here with a guy's wife. How do you like that? There ain't enough unmated kids around, he wants the married ones, too."
"He isn't here."
"Huh?" a little admiration lit up the woman's eyes. "Look, guy, you got guts. I'll hand you that. But tonight I ran across another who had guts too. You oughta see him now."
There was a silence then. You take away the sounds and there are always silences. And then:
"The guy's my husband, see? And once there was a time when I loved him. I loved him hard enough to figure he'd appreciate a little loyalty. I did five long years for that mistake. There was this woman—even then he had them, it seems—and I had the silly notion she was chasing him, instead of the other way around. So she died a little. And I did five years like I said. Can't you tell? Can't you see it on me?"
Henderson nodded.
"Sure. White, I am. You get that way after five years. Where is he?" The woman bared teeth. "Can't figure it, huh? Look, even in prison you get to hear things. Like I heard about him hanging out the 'business-as-usual' sign all the years I was inside. With the woman, I mean. Do you think he ever came to see me? Do you think he sent me letters? Post cards even?"
"All right. Yes, he was here. He isn't here now."
"Where is he?"
Henderson sighed. He looked into the guns in the woman's hands. "Did you ever hear of Jao?"