“Look, Travis,” Brine said, “my associate wants to use torture. I don’t like the idea, but if you jerk me around, torture might be the only way to go.”

“Don’t you have to have two guys to play good cop, bad cop?”

“My associate is taking a bath. I wanted to see if I could reason with you before I let him near you. I really don’t know what he’s capable of…I’m not even sure what he is. So if we could get on with this, it would be better for the both of us.”

“Where’s Jenny?” Travis asked.

“She’s fine. She’s at work.”

“You won’t hurt her?”

“I’m not some kind of terrorist, Travis. I didn’t ask to be involved in this, but I am. I don’t want to hurt you, and I would never hurt Jenny. She’s a friend of mine.”

“So if I tell you what I know, you’ll let me go?”

“That’s the deal. But I’ll have to make sure that what you tell me is true.” Brine relaxed. This young man didn’t seem to have any of the qualities of a mass murderer. If anything, he seemed a little naive.

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything I know about Catch and the incantations, but I swear to you, I don’t know anything about any Seal of Solomon. It’s a pretty strange story.”

“I guessed that,” Brine said. “Shoot.” He poured himself a glass of wine, relit his pipe, and sat back, propping his feet up on the hearth.

“Like I said, it’s a pretty strange story.”

“Strange is my middle name,” Brine said.

“That must have been difficult for you as a child,” Travis said.

“Would you get on with it.”

“You asked for it.” Travis took a deep breath. “I was born in Clarion, Pennsylvania, in the year nineteen hundred.”

“Bullshit,” Brine interrupted. “You’re not a day over twenty-five.”

“This is going to take a lot more time if I have to keep stopping. Just listen—it’ll all fall into place.”

Brine grumbled and nodded for Travis to continue.