His heart pounding, Stone continued down the stairs, stopping every step or two to listen. At the bottom, he pressed his back against the wall and listened again. The noise came, as if someone were grinding something. Then, as from a great distance, a phone began to ring. It was faint, so it had to be coming from Dick’s secret office.

Stone took a deep breath, held the gun out in front of him in a combat stance and whipped around the corner, looking for any sign of movement, listening for any noise. The downstairs hallway was empty, but he heard the noise again, coming from the study.

Walking on tiptoe, even though he was barefoot, he went to the open study door and listened again. Nothing. He charged into the room yelling “Freeze, police!” the way he had done hundreds of times before, when he still was the police. Nothing. No one. He walked around the study, checking every corner, until he came to the alarm keypad glowing in the dark, near the door to the terrace. He checked the little screen: “Open window in master BR,” it said. The phone continued to ring. Stone tapped in the alarm code. The phone still rang.

Stone did a quick tour of the downstairs, checking every room, but found nothing. He got out his keys, went to Dick’s secret office door and opened it. The phone stopped ringing. Stone switched on the light in the little office and looked around, half expecting to find somebody there. Then he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. The wall opposite Dick’s desk was lined with cabinets, and one of them, with double doors, had a substantial lock on it.

He went through his keys until he found one that fit, then opened the cabinet. Inside, hanging on pegs, was an array of weapons: a stainless-steel riot gun with an extra-long magazine; a Beretta 9 mm semi-automatic, model 92, which was used by the armed services; a model 1911 Colt .45 officer’s model, with a beautiful mirror-blue finish and ivory grips; and a pair of Colt Government .380s finished identically to the larger pistol. So Dick had been well armed, after all.

The phone in the study started to ring. Stone rushed to answer it, lest it wake someone, then realized he was alone in the house. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Stone? It’s Lance. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Stone said. “I was sound asleep, and I was wakened by a noise. I got my pants on and started downstairs, then I thought better of it, remembering that’s what Dick did. So I opened a window in my bedroom to set off the alarm, but it didn’t go off.”