Hightower’s nine-millimeter Heckler & Koch handgun lay between them, ten feet from Zack and twenty feet from Court. Right in the center of the flat portion of the roof.

Hightower did not move. His body leaned towards the pistol, his hand reached out for it, but his eyes were on Court Gentry. Gentry stood still himself, knowing his only play here was to beat Hightower to the gun. He prepared himself to dive for it if Hightower should move a muscle.

Zack said, “I know what you are thinking, Six.”

Court was nearly out of breath from his ordeal on the steep roof. Through gasps he said, “Is that a fact?”

“Affirmative. Right now you are thinking about how you always were just a little faster than me.”

Court kept his eyes on the gun. “You’re right.”

“But don’t forget one thing, bro. I was always a little smarter than you.”

Court glanced away from the pistol and up to Zack now. “You’re going to think that gun into your hand?”

“There are a lot of variables in this equation in front of you. I’m closer, you’ve just climbed up here, then you tumbled back, then climbed back up. You might not have the speed and strength you think you do.”

It was quiet on the roof a moment. Then Court said, “Anything else? Or is that all you’ve got?”

Zack shrugged, still leaning towards his HK. “That’s pretty much it, I guess.”

Court took two quick steps, flung his body forward, and dove with his arms outstretched. He landed on the metal roof and slid several feet. He snatched the weapon cleanly and brought it up towards his target.

Zack Hightower had not even tried for the gun. He barely moved, except to raise his hands. He said, “Damn, dude! It’s always fun to watch you work! Great to see you again! I’ve fuckin’ missed you!”

Court ignored the joviality, which seemed ridiculously incongruous to the present circumstance. “You were up here ready to blow my head off if you saw me. Why the hell wouldn’t I shoot you now?”

Zack shrugged. “I’ll be honest, bro. Can’t think of a single reason.”

Court climbed back up to his feet and leveled the pistol at Zack’s face. “Me, neither.”

“Unless . . .” Zack said, still holding his hands up in surrender, “you were interested in how I got here. Who’s benefiting from this. The list of everyone who is involved. That sort of thing. If any of that shit matters to you, then I guess I’m more useful to you alive than dead.”

Court kept the weapon pointed at Zack’s face for another fifteen seconds, thinking over the situation. Slowly he lowered the weapon. “Bastard.”

Zack grinned from ear to ear. “Good decision. We’ve got some catching up to do. How ’bout we go get a beer and some wings. I’m buying.”