Jack had to hand it to Oz—he was cool. He glanced at a pair of his doggie roustabouts—how many did he have?—who had noticed the pistol. Low growls rumbled in their throats as they edged closer.

“They’ll tear you to pieces before you get off that second shot. Perhaps before you get off the first.”

“Don’t count on it.” Jack leveled the barrel at Oz’s midsection. “I can pull this trigger lots of times before I go down. Any idea what a hollowpoint round, even a twenty-two, can do once it breaks up inside you?”

Jack’s pistol was loaded with FMJs, but no need to tell Oz that.

“And don’t think the shots will go unnoticed over there.” Jack cocked his head toward the State Police barracks. “So not only will you be dead, but a bunch of troopers will be treating this whole area as a crime scene. They’ll go through it with a fine comb. What’ll they find?”

Oz’s expression fluctuated between fear and rage. Jack pressed on, heading for home.

“You’ve gathered a nice little family around you, Oz. What will happen to them when you’re gone and they’ve been broken up and scattered because of certain crimes you’ve committed? All because you wouldn’t answer a simple question.”

Jack hoped the bluff would work. He knew he’d be beaten to a bloody pulp if he pulled the trigger, and even if he survived, he feared police scrutiny as much as Oz. More. But Oz couldn’t know that.

“Let’s suppose, just suppose,” Oz said, “that they were here. What happens?”

They? Jack fought to keep from showing the relief surging within him.

“They leave with me and that’s that.”

“How do I know you won’t stop at the first phone and report us?”

“You’ve got my word,” Jack said. “I’ve got nothing against you, Oz. I have a business relationship with Nadia. If I get her out of this, you and me are even. I’m happy never to see or hear of you again, and I’m sure it’s mutual.”

“But what about them?”

“I think I can square it with them. Let’s go ask.”

Oz held back. “There’s still the matter of Dr. Monnet. He—”

“He’s dead.”

The eyes narrowed. Oz wasn’t buying. “Really.” He drew out the word.

“Just turn on the radio. It’s on all the news stations.”

“You?”

“Never laid a finger on him. Dragovic, I’d guess.”

“I see,” Oz said, nodding. A small smile played about his lips. That obviously made sense to him.

“Monnet paid you to off them,” Jack said, “but I assume you had other plans. Sushi for the rakosh, right?”

“The creature’s eating habits appear to be similar to those of a big snake,” Oz said, neither confirming nor denying. “It gorges itself, then doesn’t eat again for days. I haven’t had time yet to learn its cycle.”

“And now that it’s gone, you’ve got no use for the food you’ve stockpiled for it. Am I right?”

He nodded and sighed. “I suppose that settles it, then.”