“I should kick her out on her ass, is what I should do,” Anton said.

“So what’s stopping you?” Ellie noticed they weren’t heading to Culver City. Were, in fact, heading in the opposite direction. And Anton had spent a lot of time subtly checking his rearview mirror, just a slight tilt of the head.

“She’s pregnant,” Anton said.

“Judging by your tone, I’m guessing I shouldn’t say congratulations.”

“She said she was on the pill. Told me she didn’t want kids, right? Had no interest in them. This morning she tells me, Look, you want me to keep this thing growing in my belly, then you’ve got to show me how much you love me, and that means opening up my wallet, ’cause that’s all she cares about, what makes her happy.”

Anton pulled right, into the entrance to a BMW dealership. “And if I don’t—how you say it?—pony up these things for her, she’s going to get an abortion.” He made the sign of the cross. “The woman is an animal, is what she is. I should put a bag over her head, put her out of her misery.”

“I thought we were going to lunch.”

“I’m bleeding my heart out to you here and you’re worried about lunch? That is the problem with you women, how you mess with a man’s pride. You take that away from a man and he can’t be responsible for his actions. Don’t matter if you’re a woman or man, the person who screws with your pride or tries to steal it, and you put up with that? A man without pride is not a man. He’s a pizda.”

“A what?”

“Forget it.” Anton drove behind the dealership. “I got to pick up a part for my car. It’ll take five, ten minutes tops. Can your little stomach wait that long, or are you going to faint from hunger?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I can get you a snack from a vending machine or some shit, tide you over.”

“I said I’m fine.” Ellie’s head ached. She’d forgotten what it was like to talk to him, trying to follow his thoughts, his violent mood swings. She wondered if he’d had a blood transfusion. She didn’t see any marks on his arms.

The back of the dealership contained a warehouse-like area where BMW cars and SUVs were serviced. Several bay doors were open. Anton surveyed them for a moment, then headed toward the one on the far right, Ellie’s gut instincts telling her something was up even before Anton picked up a small folded piece of paper from the console and handed it to her. It read:

Leave purse & phone in car. no questions.

Ellie stared at Anton’s block-lettered handwriting, thinking: He’s afraid my phone is bugged, my movements being tracked. And he would be right.

Ellie still had the piece of paper in her hands when he drove into the bay. The door began to slide down, a big, clanking sound that rattled inside her skull. The bay door didn’t have any windows—there were no windows in here at all, she noticed, just a long row of cars being serviced by mechanics, and she had a moment of panic, feeling like she was trapped, like she had been brought here because Anton had found out something about her, possibly her real identity, and planned to take her out.