It wasn’t really a question. Even disassembled into its components and laid out on a cloth on Percy’s kitchen table, you could see what it was. An AK-47, the twentieth-century heritage totem of armed revolution. Clint was cleaning it.

“Almost as good as new,” said Clint, inspecting the boring with the keen eye of a gunsmith. “Maybe better than new. Field-tested.”

Donny looked at the crates over by the wall. Three of them, stacked one atop the other. The top one had been opened, its lid laid up against the side of the stack. The wood was stenciled in an alphabet Donny could not read. He didn’t need to peek inside the open crate to know what was in there. And frankly, he didn’t want to look—he might be able to survive interrogation by the feds if he could honestly state he only saw one gun instead of an arsenal.

Xelina, who was standing by the crates reviewing the manifest she had pulled from the top one, looked liberated and terrified at the same time.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Donny said. That wasn’t a question either.

“It wasn’t an easy decision,” said Percy. She was sitting there at the head of the table, the big brass lacquered pin signifying her status as a member of Congress still buttoned to her lapel.

“It is for me,” said Donny. “Count me out.”

“We need to protect ourselves,” said Percy. “You saw what they did to Miles.”

Donny looked at the crates. “This is about more than self-defense. I wish I hadn’t come.”

“You’re wrong,” said Xelina. “And you know it’s the only way. What else are we supposed to do when they rig the elections?”

“I didn’t come to this decision easily, Donny,” said Percy. “None of us did.”

Clint raised his eyebrows like maybe that wasn’t true in his case.

“I helped you get elected to office so it wouldn’t come to this, Percy,” said Donny. “You just got sworn in for your second term. I didn’t think you were the type to give up so easily.”

“I’m not,” said Percy. “And I haven’t. This is just the backup plan.”

“The backup plan.”

“Yeah.”

“Meaning you don’t plan to use them.”

“Right. Basically.”

“What do you mean, ‘basically’?”

“I mean we won’t use them unless we need to. But we need to be ready.”

“What are you going to do with them in the meantime?”

“She said you could keep them for us,” said Xelina.

For a minute he believed her. Clients often asked him for favors like that, based on a wishfully expansive idea of what the attorney-client privilege could cloak.

“We’re going to distribute them,” said Percy, and Clint laughed at the look on Donny’s face.

“Please don’t use that word,” said Donny.

“Give them to friends,” said Xelina.