Van Fleet started to speak, then stopped. “No, I don’t think I will,” he said petulantly. “You were unkind enough to bring up the past, so I don’t think you deserve to know, at least not yet. Later, if you’re nice, you can bring it up at dinner, and maybe I’ll tell you.” Van Fleet stood up, reached down, and picked up his case. He set it on the stool, opened it, and took out a large scalpel. “Don’t worry, I’m very good at this; it’ll be absolutely painless, I promise.”

Stone had thought about dying before, but never in such close proximity to the event. Would his whole life flash before his eyes? Would it be less painful if he just relaxed and let it happen? He discovered he could not give in to it; he would go down fighting, with what meager resources he had left. “Wait a minute, Herb!” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“You can tell me at the dinner table,” Van Fleet said, sliding his hand under Stone’s chin and pulling it up to extend his neck.

Stone jerked his head free. “It’s about Sasha!” he said, and watched Van Fleet’s face.

Van Fleet showed interest. “What about Sasha?”

“Something you don’t know about her, something important. I wouldn’t want to say this in front of her at the table.”

“What is it?”

“You like guys, don’t you, Herb?”

“What do you mean?” Van Fleet replied indignantly. “I’m no queer. I like women.”

“What about your relationship with the men at the table?” Stone asked.

“You have a filthy mind,” Van Fleet said. “I have no kind of relationship with anybody at the table. Except Sasha, of course. We have a perfectly normal sex life.”

Perfectly normal? Stone laughed aloud. “Come on, Herb, you’re as queer as a three-dollar bill.” Words were all Stone had left to fight with, and he was at least going to get in a few punches before this maniac slaughtered him.

“That’s a lie!”

“Then why do you think you like fucking Sasha so much?”

“Sasha’s a woman, you idiot,” Van Fleet said. “We have a heterosexual relationship!”

“Sasha’s not a woman, Herbert. I found out. When she was born in Russia, her parents named her Vladimir, because she was a boy. They raised her as a girl, though, and, when she was twelve, she had a sex-change operation in Morocco!”

“You’re insane!” Van Fleet cried.

“You’re fucking a guy, Herbert, you goddamned faggot!” Stone screamed. “All this time you’ve been fucking a guy’s corpse, a dead guy, Herbert!”

Van Fleet was making animal noises now, and spittle had formed on his lips. He raised the scalpel over his head, and his voice became a howl.

Stone braced himself, baring his teeth. He’d bite the bastard’s arm off, if he could.