Above me. I looked up. It was little miss ork, crawling along one of the rails that mounted the crane to the ceiling. Needing both hands to keep her on the rail, she had her gun clenched between her teeth. Jesus, she's a wraith, I thought. The amateur tradecraft on the street had been all a put-on. This was what she could really do. She'd somehow sneaked into the building, and climbed up there-again, somehow- and was getting into perfect position to put a round down through the top of my cranium. Eat that, body armor.