But maybe he was ready to go home. It was almost dark, but still early enough that Kham didn't feel underarmed with his Smith and Wesson .45 in his side holster and the Walther in the underarm sling. His thirty-six-centimeter survival knife slapped against his thigh, reminding him that he had blades as well: two cutters in boot sheaths and a half-dozen shivs in various other concealed sheaths. He had a pair of knucks in his jacket pocket, too. Not much, but then he'd be home before the real predators came out.