“You’ll hear about that soon enough. The psychology, which is what it really is, not philosophy, comes from Chino. He is far above the likes of you and me. A man can’t manipulate money as he does every day without having a rare and special intelligence. To work for him is to learn from him. Constantly.”

A light appeared on the dashboard. Gregory flashed the high beams. Was this car bugged, too? Amy was thinking of the way he was correcting her, trying to fit it into what else she knew about him: he was a psychopathic killer who could not be believed no matter what he said. He had corrected her when she had called him “Chino”. And he corrected her immediately that time, too. He wanted control, yet he seemed absolutely passive when talking about the great God Chino.

They were approaching a gate that was already rolling open. The car was equipped with a device that allowed the gate to recognize it. A stranger’s car would probably set off an alarm, or worse. She had to remember everything!

Why? So in her last moments her head could be filled with shit?

Inside the gate the blacktop of the road spread out in a broad forecourt where a dozen expensive sports cars, sedans and utility vehicles were parked. Beyond them was a two-story mansion in the style of a French chateau that looked as wide as the Lincoln Memorial. Every window was lit, and her first impression of the place mad Amy believe that if she were allowed to have a walkaround, she would find behind the house formal gardens, a tennis court, stables, and an Olympic-sized swimming pool with an outdoor bar and cabana.

Gregory took the Lexus up to the entrance, braking carefully. He lowered the window on her side of the car, then walked around and reached through the window to undo the lock on the handcuffs. His behavior indicated more than just another case of hero worship, Amy was sure; even his body language seemed different here, constricted and earnest, like that of a girl she had known in nursing school who had not wanted the rest of the class to know how promiscuous she was. Amy did not know exactly how this man made her think of a particular girl, but she thought it interesting that she did.

She made a show of rubbing her wrists before getting out of the car, a test of his power that he failed as he waited patiently for her to finish. Slowly she put her bare feet on the rough pavement that was still warm from the sun. The air was cool and fragrant with jasmine. In an ambience like this, she asked herself, what kind of people would want to put themselves at risk with a life of crime? The answer was named Gregory.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” he asked, showing that benign smile again.