Oxnard tugged his forearm a little closer under Sally’s chin. ‘What I want and what I need are two different things,’ he said, in that sly, smiling voice. ‘I need food. That’s what I need. You see, most of our friends have left LA, all lit out and left nothing. And there isn’t a single café or diner or hamburger stand left open in the whole festering city. So, I’m hungry; and so are my associates here, and we need food. That’s what we’ve come for, and that’s what we’ll be satisfied with. But… if you’re talking about what I want… that’s different. What I want is to shove seven inches of stiff intellectual pecker right down your gorgeous throat.’

Season stood rigid, the muscles in her cheeks pronounced, her thin fingers clenched into narrow fists.

‘My sister and her husband are outside,’ she said. ‘In a minute or two they’re going to miss me. They’re going to come looking, and what are you going to do then?’

Oxnard looked around at the rest of the Angels and then snorted. ‘You think we’re cowards? You think we’re scared of your sister and her husband?’

‘You’re cowardly enough to frighten a little girl,’ snapped Season.

‘Oh now, come along,’ said Oxnard, softly. ‘You know festering well why we’ve got your little girl. Nothing to do with cowardice. Just practicality, seeing as how every smug middle-class canyon dweller who’s afraid of being molested by real people has gotten himself a gun these days. And the best protection against the wild shooting of canyon dwellers is a child hostage, don’t you agree?’

Season said, ‘You’ll have to talk to my sister’s husband. He’s got the key to the freezer. If you want food, that’s where it is.’

Oxnard, still holding Sally tight against him, held out his free hand towards the Angel standing on his left. The Angel, unshaved, with the oddly flat face of a boxer, reached into his leather jacket and dragged out a huge black revolver. Oxnard took it, hefted it in his hand, and then pointed it directly at the top of Sally’s head.

‘Call him,’ he said. ‘Call your sister’s husband. Go ahead. And tell him that if he jumps, or rushes, or does anything sudden at all, then it’s going to be cortex omelette all round. You got me?’

Season stared at him, feeling as chilled as an ice queen. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked him. ‘You’re educated, aren’t you? Why?’

Oxnard grinned, ‘Education, as they always used to tell me, is nothing more than a tool for getting what you need out of life.’