"Business," Hairless continues, "is a kind of ecology. It has its hierarchies, its taxonomies. It has a food web, a pecking order. It is a natural thing."

Ashley's mouth is taped shut. Miriam can't see his hands or feet, but the way he struggles tells her he's bound, too. Hands behind back, like her.

"We think of nature in a certain way. We think of it as balanced. We think of it being fair, in its own way. Nature is not fair. It is not balanced. It is weighted in favor of what we would think of as evil. Cruelty is rewarded. You see? Harriet knows."

Harriet speaks. She sounds excited. The monotone is gone. The flavorless cardboard drone has been replaced by a bloodthirsty, giddy tenor rising in pitch, growing in sheer delight.

"Penguin mothers are kind to their children. Wolves are honorable. Chimpanzees are noble and wise. All lies, lies to comfort us. Man wants nature to be noble because it forces him to be noble. Man knows that he is above the beasts, and so if beasts can be noble, then man must be noble, too. Such a moral, honorable benchmark does not exist," Harriet says. Her words drip with nyah-nyah-nyah I told you so contempt. "Animals are vile and cruel. Cats rape each other. Ants enslave other insects, including other ants. Chimps fight in massive gang wars – they kill wantonly, they piss and shit on the corpses of their enemies, they take the babies of their genetic foes and dash them against rocks. They steal the females and force them to breed. They sometimes eat the defeated males."

Harriet looks back at them, and Miriam sees in her eyes a manic gleam.

"Nature is brutal and grotesque. That is the only benchmark. That is the precedent. We are animals, and as part of nature, we too must be brutal and grotesque."

Miriam thinks she sees Harriet's shoulders shake with a tiny paroxysm of pleasure.

The woman returns to driving.

Hairless offers a golf clap. Miriam growls against her tape-gag.

The Hairless Fucker turns to her and extends a long finger against his lips.

"Shh. Your turn will come. For now, let me speak with your friend." He turns back to Ashley, who is pale and sweaty like a bottle of milk left out on a warm counter. He's staring at something Miriam cannot see, something near him on the seat. "This, Mister Gaynes, is how our time together will work. I have two questions for you. If you answer both of my questions honestly and swiftly, I will not kill you."

Hairless fidgets with whatever it is that Miriam cannot see. She hears a metal squeak, the squeak of hinges.

He holds something up.

This, she can see.

A twelve-inch, all-metal hacksaw. Brand new. Still has the sticker on it.

Hairless flicks the blade with his fingernail. Ting, ting, ting.

"I am a businessman, as noted, and to be successful I must be cruel, so forgive me this. My first question is about the girl." Hairless turns and gives her a look. She can't read it. Maybe it's because he can't read her – and that puzzlement shows on his smooth, bone-white face. "Is it true, what she can do? Is it for real?"