He stood there looking the girls over, hands on his hips. He was fully armed, the Glock in its waistband holster, the Scorpion EVO slung over his shoulder. He wore two open-top five-in-line magazine pouches, one on each side of his waist. The pistol clips were on the right. The ones on the left contained the EVO’s heavier 147-grain full metal jacket ammunition.

After a minute he turned to the picture window. The shade was still drawn. Grigor stood behind it, moved it slightly aside with two fingers to look out, and waited.

Musil turned the car into the cul-de-sac. Up ahead he could see a yellow reflectorized sign marking the bulbous end of the roadway. Past it was a wood-slat fence.

The few homes on the street stood far apart on spacious lawns. They were all large bungalows with wide, enclosed porches. A century earlier, Meadows Court had been a bedroom community outside the developed portions of the city. It remained quiet and almost rural as if existing in its own slow backwater of time.

The last house on the street stood on the right near the dirt and brush terminus. There was a large for-sale-by-owner notice in the front yard. Musil knew it was where Grigor Malkira was holding his children. Raysa’s phone, acting as a beacon, had pinpointed the location.

He did not glance over at the house as he drove past. It was unbearably hard to restrain himself. But he knew Malkira would be watching.

Musil pulled onto the dirt, eased forward until his front grille was almost up against the fence, and cut his engine. He bowed his head slightly and mouthed the banis.

His phone rang. He glanced over to where it sat in the center console. The display said Unknown Caller. He lifted it out of the tray.

“I’m here,” he answered.

“I see that,” Malkira said. “You’ve followed my instructions?”

“Yes.”

“You’re alone.”

“Yes.”

“You brought the file.”

“Yes.”

“And I can trust you have no electronics.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“You believe in God, do you?”

“Yes. I want to see my children.”

“Soon enough. Were you praying just now?”

Musil didn’t answer.

“Were you praying?”

“Yes.”

“For?”

Musil breathed. “I appealed to the Lord of Justice for his help and support. I asked that my family be allowed to live in peace.”

“I can do anything I want to your pretty young daughters. I can boil them to death in scalding bathwater. I can make it so their brains have to be scraped off the walls,” Malkira said. “Don’t you think that gives me a say?”

“I have faith in his guidance.”

Silence again.

“Get out of the car,” Malkira said. “Walk up the driveway to the garage. When its door opens, you’ll step inside and wait.”

“Will I see my children?”

“Have faith,” Malkira said, and ended the connection.