“Suit yourselves,” said Selma. “If you’ll look behind you, you’ll see that I had them install two extra-large gun safes so you can store guns and ammunition here. And, over here, behind the bench rest, is a workbench for cleaning and adjusting weapons.”

Remi said, “You seem to have taken a lot of interest in this project. You never used to care for guns.”

“Our experience with Mr. Bako, Mr. Poliakoff, and Mr. Le Clerc and their friends has caused me to acquire an affection for firearms that I didn’t feel before.”

“Well, thank you so much for watching over all this construction,” Remi said. “What’s at the other end?” Remi pointed at the far end of the range.

“That’s a sheet of steel set at a forty-five-degree angle to deflect rounds downward into the sand so there will never be a ricochet.”

Sam said, “Did they put in the other exit?”

“Yes. Behind the sheet of steel is a second stairway that leads up into the stand of pines near the street.”

“Great,” said Sam. “Let’s go back upstairs and see how the wiring changes for the new electronics worked out.”

“I think you’ll be pleased,” Selma said. “They’ve been working on it for months and finally finished last week. Instead of one emergency generator, there are now four, for different circuits supporting various functions. This is now a very difficult house to deprive of electricity for even a second.”

They came up to the short corridor, through the bookcase door, and back into the office. Selma said, “That’s funny, that wasn’t here before.”

Sam and Remi looked where she was pointing. It was a large cardboard box. “It’s our souvenirs from Mexico,” said Remi.

Wendy Corden was working at one of the computers in the area across the room. “That came a few minutes ago. I signed for it.”

“Thanks,” said Sam. He lifted the box up onto a worktable, giving it a gentle shake. “I didn’t hear anything broken.”

“Don’t even say that,” said Selma. “I can’t believe you shipped it that way—just mailed it home like a . . . a piece of crockery.”

“You had to be there to appreciate our choices. People kept trying to steal it.”

Selma produced a box cutter from a desk drawer and handed it to Sam. “Can we see it?”

Sam opened the box. He removed some of the packing peanuts, then some of the wall hangings and mats.

Selma unrolled one of them, then two others. “These are truly dreadful,” she said. “That king looks a bit like Elvis—who was, come to think of it, The King.” She unwrapped a small pot. “And look at these—sparkly paint in case this warrior gentleman isn’t fancy enough.”

Remi laughed. “I think those were the inspiration for Sam’s improvements to the real pot.”