Stepping closer to Jake, Perez fished in his jacket pocket as he said, “She came up here to talk to me about Sinclair and his wife. And that doc in Florida. With this in her purse.” He waved a thumb-sized digital recorder in one hand.

Younger asked Glynis, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her eyes riveted on Perez. Jake was looking at Perez, too, and the two hoods behind him. And Monster, looming in the shadows on the other side of the room. I’d need a machine gun to take on this mob, he said to himself. Wish I had at least brought the sword in with me from the Land Rover.

Younger said to Perez, “We’ve come to take her home.”

“Yeah,” Nacho replied. “Sure.”

“I mean it!”

“So you mean it, so what? My pal here,” he gestured toward Monster, “can’t get her fuckin’ car started.”

“It’s English,” Monster grumbled, as if that explained anything.

Glynis spoke up. “They mean to kill me, Tim. They want to arrange an accident on the highway. I’ll skid off the road and get killed.”

Impulsively, Younger grabbed at Perez but before he could reach him, Monster gripped the engineer’s shoulders in his massive paws and lifted Younger clear off his feet.

“You better siddown,” Monster said. Softly. While he held Younger dangling in his hands.

The other two goons barely moved. One of them smiled a little.

Monster released Younger, then pointed to the chair near Glynis’s. “Take it easy,” he said to the engineer. Rubbing one of his shoulders, Younger sat.

Jake realized it was cold in the lodge. No electricity, no heat. The logs in the fireplace were phony, for decoration. Even if the place has an oil heater, the thermostat needs electricity to run it, he realized.

“So what happens now?” Jake asked.

Perez shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I’m waitin’ for a phone call. Just take it easy for a while.”

“You can’t kill all of us,” said Jake.

“Sez who? You two guys came up here ’cause her stupid English car wouldn’t start. You drive off inta the blizzard. You have a smash-up.” He shrugged again.

Jake thought, QED. Just like that. Problem solved. They kill all of us.

Glynis said, “You don’t think three more deaths are going to pique the FBI’s curiosity?”

“Hey, lady, you guys get yourselves killed in the snow, what’s the FBI got to do with it?” He waved the miniaturized recorder again. “Long as I got this and you don’t, we’re okay.”

Younger asked, “The phone’s working?”

“The landline is,” said Perez. “So what?”

“So let me call Lignite, get the generator working. We can end this blackout before it gets worse.”

“Let you make a phone call? No way!”