"I know the ones you’re talking about." Devin Skraelin shook his head and gazed moodily out the window of the trailer. Apparently as a result of Richard’s ducking into this place a week ago, fleeing from Devin’s staff like a camper trying to get in out of the mosquitoes, it had now become the unofficial Dodge/Skeletor meeting place, a Reykjavik or a Panmunjom. It had only been a week since that meeting, and yet it seemed a lot longer. Hell, it seemed to have happened in some parallel universe. The universe in which Zula had not yet disappeared.