“And gray totally doesn’t work with my complexion. It completely washes me out.” But now, even Win sounded a little strained by where this was going. His tone had a whistling-in-the-dark quality to it. The other two goons snickered and took out their guns. Myron looked over to Win. Win shrugged. Not much choice now. They both stripped down to their underwear. Beefy made them take that off too. The, uh, probe was thankfully brief. Win’s homophobic jokes had worried them into not being overly meticulous.

When they finished, Beefy handed one of the sweat suits to Myron, the other to Win. “Put them on.”

They did so in silence.

“Mr. Ache is waiting in the library,” Beefy said.

Crisp led the way with a hint of a smile on his face. Beefy and the Boys stayed behind. No surprise. The Gabriel Wire situation had to be top secret. Myron guessed that no one knew about it but Ache, Crisp, and maybe an attorney on retainer. Even the security guards who worked the property didn’t know. “Maybe I should do the talking,” Myron said.

“Okay.”

“You’re right. Herman Ache will want to do what’s in his best interest. We have his golden goose.”

“Agreed.”

When they entered the library, Herman Ache was waiting with a snifter of brandy. He stood by one of those antique-globe wet bars. Win had one too. In fact, the entire room looked as though Win had done the decorating. Bookshelves lined the walls, three stories high, with a sliding ladder so that you could reach the higher volumes. The leather club chairs were burgundy. There was an oriental carpet and deep wainscoting on the ceilings.

Herman Ache’s gray toupee was a little too shiny tonight. He wore a polo shirt with a V-neck sweater underneath it. There was a logo for a golf club on the chest.

Herman pointed at Win. “I told you to leave this alone.”

Win nodded. “You did indeed.” Then Win reached into the waistband of the sweatpants, pulled out a gun, and shot Herman Ache right between the eyes. Herman Ache crumbled in a ragged heap. Myron actually gasped out loud. He turned to Win, who already had the weapon pointed at Evan Crisp.

“Don’t,” Win said to Crisp. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead too. Don’t force my hand.”

Crisp froze.

Myron just stared. Herman Ache was dead. No question about it.

Myron said, “Win?”

Win kept his eye trained on Crisp. “Search him, Myron.”

In something of a daze, Myron did as Win asked. There was no weapon. Win told Crisp to get on his knees and lace his hands behind his head. Crisp did so. Win kept the gun pointed at Crisp’s head.

“Win?”

“We had no choice, Myron. Mr. Crisp here was correct. Herman would have killed everyone dear to us.”

“What about all that talk about his business interest? What about détente?”