That got through. Incredulous: “You interrogated a gray cap? Are you insane?”

Stark: “Sane as a lamppost, Finch. Sane as a lamppost. And come to think of it, the whole experience was a little like interrogating a lamppost. A lamppost with teeth.”

Some private joke passed between Stark and Bosun that made them both chuckle.

Bosun said, “Grays don’t like us much.”

Stark, smirking: “No, they don’t. Not that you’d ever find me in a room with one of those things. You don’t have to teach me, not old Stark. Bosun might be able to take one on, but there’s nothing subtle about his approach. It’s like a wolf ripping into a pheasant.

“Now, I’m giving you a copy of this transcript because whether you believe it or not, I like you … even if your name probably isn’t Finch any more than mine is Stark. And I especially like you because according to rumor you’ve killed a gray cap or two before. I imagine you haven’t forgotten how? So take a look. See what you think. Does it help with your murders? I can’t tell you what to think. But understand this: I’m doing you a favor. I’m bringing you closer to the truth. You might even have a chance of getting out of this alive if you do your job right. That should be valuable to both of us.”

Finch, through clenched teeth: “Why shouldn’t I give you up to the gray caps?”

Another carving. A woman. Reclining. Crudely made to emphasize her breasts. Didn’t want to know who it was meant to be.

“You could. But will I be here when they come? Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be at your apartment. With a gun. Or maybe I’ll be over at Sintra’s place. You don’t know where she lives, do you? But maybe I do. Maybe I’ll be there. She’d be worth the trouble I think. She might even like it.”

Finch started to rise. To do what? Bosun just as quickly pushed him back down, shoving a gun hard into his ribs. Grinding pain. He stifled a grunt.

“Not smart,” Bosun said.

Stark hadn’t moved. “Just something to think about, Finch, that’s all.”

“Where’s Wyte?” Finch asked. Because if he didn’t ask that question he’d be screaming at Stark.

Stark’s smile faded. He ran both hands beneath his eyes, as if to clear cobwebs. “That’s such a dull question. Here’s a better one. Ever wonder why they let anyone stay? On this godforsaken ‘Spit’? Why they don’t just raid it and wipe us all out? No clue? Seriously? Well, I’ll tell you anyway. It’s because they want to send spies back with us, Finch. Little grimy bastards. Most of them too small to see with the naked eye. But luckily not small enough to escape a microscope. And they’re spying on everything. Even you. While you’re just trying to do your job. How about that, Finch? How does that make you feel?”