Not a Scotch drinker, Jack took a tentative sip and rolled it around on his tongue. It had a sweetness and a body he’d never tasted in any other Scotch. And the finish was…fabulous.

“For the love of God, Montresor!” he said. “That is good!”

“Isn’t it?” Dad said, grinning. “Isn’t that the best you ever had?”

“No question. Potent stuff.”

“That’s what I hear, but I haven’t seen any proof.”

Jack let that one slide. “Where can I get a bottle?”

“You can’t. It’s all gone. They produce only so many casks and this batch is long sold out.”

Jack lifted his glass for another sip. “Then we’d better nurse this one.”

“I don’t care if we empty the bottle. This is a special day. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt this alive.” He looked at Jack. “But I have to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Where’d that pistol come from, the one you pulled after I parted the big guy’s hair?”

Jack felt very close to his father at the moment, closer than he could ever remember. The father-son slope had been leveled. They were eye to eye now. Equals. Friends. He didn’t want anything to get in the way of that, but he couldn’t very well tell Dad he’d imagined the Glock.

So he pulled it from the small of his back and laid it on the kitchen counter.

“You mean this?”

“Yes. That.” His father picked it up and hefted it. Jack noted with approval how he kept the muzzle directed down and away from both of them. “What’s it made of? Feels almost like…”

“Plastic? That’s because most of it is. Not the barrel and firing pin, of course, but pretty much all the rest.”

He turned it back and forth in his hand, staring at it. “Amazing.” He raised his eyes to Jack. “But what’s an appliance repairman doing with something like this?”

How to handle this…

“Sometimes I wind up in bad neighborhoods and I feel more comfortable knowing I’m carrying.”

“But how did you get it down here? I know you didn’t carry it aboard the plane.”

Jack shrugged. “There are ways.”

Dad continued to stare at him. “Tell me the truth: You’re not really a repairman, are you.”

“Oh, but I am. That’s the truth.”

“Okay, but what else are you?” He waggled the Glock. “I saw how you handled this out there. I saw plenty of people handle guns in the war, and you could always tell the ones who knew what they were doing and were comfortable with them, just as you could tell the ones who weren’t. You fall into the first category, Jack.”

Despite the closeness he felt to his father at this moment, despite the combat-zone bond they’d formed, Jack couldn’t bring himself to tell him.