Ken tucked the phone back into his pocket and exited the restroom. It might have been simpler to just pull the fire alarm, but he didn't want cops to show up any sooner than necessary. The hostess stepped into the main dining area. "Ladies and gentlemen!" she said, repeating the statement three more times until the restaurant was quiet enough for her to be heard by everybody. "I'm going to need you to exit the restaurant. Everything will be explained when the police show up, but we have a situation and I need everybody to leave the building in a quick but orderly fashion."

Some of the customers looked at each other, confused. Others got up.

"This is not a drill!" said the hostess. "We need to clear out this building immediately."

Now more people got up. Others hurried for the exit.

Ken made a beeline for Charlene.

* * *

What was she supposed to do?

The idea that there was a genuine emergency at the restaurant on the same day that she'd been instructed not to leave was too much of a coincidence. Charlene couldn't just file out of the building with the rest of the customers and employees. But she had to assume that this was about her, so she had to be on high alert.

She took out her cell phone to call Lugens.

"Nope," said a blonde man, walking up next to her and speaking in a low voice. "Put the phone away or I'll shoot you in the side."

Charlene stopped walking and put the phone back in her pocket. She wished she had the sleight of hand to make the call just as she slipped the phone away, but she was no magician.

"Keep walking," he said. "Same pace as everybody else. This is the only way you'll save your friend's life."

For a moment, Charlene considered not playing along, but rather attacking him, screaming and trying to claw out his eyes with her fingernails. But she had no reason to doubt that he had a gun, and if she drew attention to him, he in turn would have no reason not to shoot her. She walked forward, trying to make desperate eye contact with somebody, but the other people in the restaurant were preoccupied with their own concerns.

They walked out of the building. Abigail the hostess shouted for everybody to move at least five hundred feet away and that the police would be here in two or three minutes.

"You fuck around with me, you die," the man informed Charlene. "And then Gertie dies really badly. I mean, really badly."

"How do I know she's even still alive?"

"Oh, I'll show you. I'll put your mind at ease, don't worry. Have you been in touch with the cops?"

"No."

"That's a lie. Don't lie to me. Give me your phone."