Jack slid his left foot a few inches toward the door. Then, making it look as if he was merely shifting his weight, he leaned left and brought his right foot over to it. Before leaving this morning, he’d stashed a Tokarev 9mm under the front seat of the Taurus. If he could get out the door alive, he had a chance to make it to the car. And then it would be a whole new ball game.

“Do not be silly, Thomas,” Kemel said, holding his hands palms-out like a supplicant. “That is not what anyone was thinking. You will be paid just as we promised.”

Another slide left… another weight shift…

“Damn right I will. This is mine, not yours. Mine. And I deserve it. So I’ll be dictating the terms.”

“We have terms,” Kemel said.

“New deal,” Thomas said. “It’s my deck, and I call the game. But first…” He licked his lips. “First I want all the guns on the floor.”

Another slide… Jack was closer to the door… a few more feet and he could risk a break. He saw Yoshio give him a barely perceptible nod, as if to say, Tell me when, so I can time my move with yours.

“Forget it,” Baker said as if the words tasted bad. He was coiled and ready to spring, his pistol pointed at Thomas.

Thomas took a step closer to Kemel. “If you don’t, I’ll shoot your paycheck here.”

“And when he’s down, what do you think’ll happen to you?”

Jack had a sudden feeling that Baker might be thinking of becoming management. He might not know what this was all about, but he must have figured out that the contraption taking up most of the space here was pretty damn valuable to someone.

“Tell them,” Thomas said to Kemel. “You’re paying them. Tell them to put their guns down and lie on the floor.”

Kemel turned to Baker. “Perhaps you should—”

“Fuck that,” Baker said, and shot Thomas.

The loud report was a starter pistol for Jack—he was off to the races. As he ran he saw a spray of red from the exit wound in Thomas’s back and heard Alicia scream. Then another shot, half as loud as Baker’s, as Thomas’s pistol went off. Kemel grunted and clutched his abdomen. Thomas and the Arab hit the floor about the same time.

Jack ducked past the one called Kenny and grabbed his Tec-9 before he could bring it to bear. The assault pistol fired a line of slugs through the ceiling as Jack tried to wrench it away, but the merc had the strap wrapped around his forearm like a good soldier and it wouldn’t come free. Jack had to settle for putting him down with an elbow to the face.