“A real clown,” Toro said.

Perkowski started up the ladder, holding his Tec ahead of him. “I hate clowns.”

“Be careful, Perk,” Toro said. “Remember Mott and Richards.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Perkowski said. “Richards was a friend of mine. I remember just fine.”

Perkowski’s head and his Tec were swallowed by the dark opening, then he barked a harsh, humorless laugh.

“Oh. Yeah. This guy’s a real clown.”

“What is it?” Baker said, climbing up behind Perkowski.

Standing on a lower rung, he had to stretch against Perk’s back to get his eyes to floor level. A quick look-see showed him half a dozen toy cannons, identical to the one on the ladder, arrayed on either side of the opening. A string ran up to a naked bulb directly overhead.

Baker ducked and dropped back to the floor.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” he said. “Get down from there.”

“Aw, just some more of the clown’s funny business,” Perkowski said, reaching for the light string. “Let’s shed some light on the subject.”

“I wouldn’t—” Baker started to say, but was drowned out by the deafening roar of half a dozen shotgun shells firing at once.

Perkowski’s body—his head and arms a bloody ruin—hurtled from the ladder and landed on Toro.

Fury overtook Baker then. Another of his men down! The son of a bitch!

He raised his Tec-9 and began firing. He stitched all thirty-two rounds into the ceiling that ran along the hall, and was flipping the clip to spray another thirty-two when a hand grabbed his arm.

“The woman!” It was Muhallal, his expression a mixture of anger and fright. “You’ll kill the woman!”

Baker was about to tell him to fuck off when howls of pain started from the living room. He wheeled around the corner to find Briggs writhing in agony with his hand in the wall.

“What the fuck?” Baker said.

“The wall safe!” Briggs gasped. “It wasn’t locked. I saw some cash inside, but when I reached in, it spiked me!”

Baker saw blood oozing out of the circular opening and dripping down the wall.

“You jerk!”

“You gotta get me outta this thing, man!” Briggs wailed. “I think I’m spiked through. It’s killin’ me!”

Shit! Baker thought. What else could go wrong?

That was when the beeping started.

Everybody froze. Even Briggs stopped his yelping.

The beeping… it was coming from the beat-up stereo cabinet across the room. Kenny stepped over to it and pulled open the doors.

An LED display was doing a countdown in big red digits, beeping as each new number appeared.

… 58… 57… 56…

Kenny knelt for a closer look, then jumped back.

“Christ, Sam, it’s a bomb!”

Baker froze for an instant, then stepped closer. Kenny didn’t know bombs; that was his domain.