Merrill was looking at himself in profile. The monitor screen was angled sharply away from the camera. If his moving away from the monitor had been believed, someone watching could conclude he was still looking at the picture of the studio set. He looked back at the console, as if thinking about something. The angle of the image on the screen said that the camera aimed at him was up in the far corner of the room. There would be more than one camera — hadn’t they been tracking him since he set foot on the property?

He wanted a better look at the camera in the corner so he would be able to recognize the others in the room. These days a surveillance camera could be as small as a shirt button. He moved away from the corner, working his way around in that direction by trying to seem to be examining the piles of rubbish along the wall. When he reached the corner, he looked straight up.

The camera was a black tube, a half-inch wide and barely an inch long. Had they installed large cameras down here to save money? According to O’Malley, Chino had a roomful of cash. For emergency purposes only, and no emergencies. More likely, given the ambient gloominess, only a camera this size could deliver a color picture as bright as the one on screen. Merrill kept going around the room until he located three more tubes like the first, and when he turned again to the monitor, he saw himself from the rear, with the monitor itself silhouetting him in the middle of the screen. If he didn’t stop thinking of himself as a skinny kid, he realized, he was going to develop a really fat ass.

Another step forward, and the image shifted to the original. He stopped and took a step back. The image shifted to the rear view.

“Chino!”

“Yes, little man?”

“I want to speak to my wife.”

“She’s all tied up, in a matter of speaking.”

“Don’t wise off —”

“I don’t think you appreciate the delicacy of her situation, Commander Merrill. At this point, I am prepared to spare her life. Don’t push her luck.

Abruptly Chino stopped. Merrill thought he was hearing a faint, resonant murmuring coming from the ceiling. Was Chino talking to someone else? Why was he talking away from the mike? Had he really silenced Amy by tying and gagging her?

“Si,” Chino said. He cleared his throat. “Commander Merrill, your wife, like Elvis, has left the building. I have spared her life. You have my word that it is so. It must pain you to know that you have been denied the opportunity to say goodbye, but all in all, this is probably easier on everyone. I’m sure you didn’t want to make her cry.”

Asshole, Merrill thought.