“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Demidov rumbled. “Lead me to her.”

He whipped the gun barrel against Demidov’s other cheek. “First we need to have an understanding.”

“Goddamn you.” Demidov lurched back against the wall. “If you didn’t have that gun—”

“But I do.” Simon grabbed the ring of keys that he’d noticed next to the cell phone earlier. “Move.”

Demidov walked ahead, passing the sofa and coffee table, and opened a far door. A black sedan occupied half of a garage. Simon touched the button on the key fob that unlatched the trunk. Seeing the trunk lid rise, Demidov stiffened, whirled, and lunged hard and fast, his shoulder slamming into Simon’s chest, throwing both of them back against a workbench. Simon grabbed Demidov around the neck and shoved the muzzle of the pistol into his ear.

“You know what you have to do,” he told him. “Get in the trunk.”

“Bite my—”

He screwed the muzzle into Demidov’s ear. “Maybe you’d like to bite this. If you get in the damned trunk, I’ll let you talk to your sister.”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Oh, I definitely want to talk to her.”

“Move slowly,” Simon ordered.

He relaxed his grip around Demidov’s neck and eased the gun away from his ear. Without taking his eyes off Simon, Demidov stepped back, then crawled into the trunk. Simon saw a roll of duct tape on a bench and threw it to him. “Wrap this around your ankles.”

“Why don’t you wrap it around your—”

He picked up a length of pipe and whacked the Russian.

“All right. All right.”

As Demidov bound his legs together with the duct tape, Simon removed the phone from his pocket. After activating the video camera, he focused on the blood-smeared face.

“What time is it?” Simon demanded.

“Time? Why the hell does that matter?”

“Believe me, it does.” He aimed the pistol and the camera. “Tell your sister what time it is, or I’ll use this pipe to break your knees.”

“When this is over—” Demidov glared at his watch, telling the camera, “Twelve twenty-eight. Marta, I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s batshit crazy. You’ve really screwed up this time.”

“Marta? Thanks for telling me her name.”

Simon ended the video and sent it.

“Now what?”

“Roll onto your stomach.” He jabbed Demidov with the pipe. “Put your wrists behind your back.”

No sooner did he finish taping the guy’s arms behind him than the phone buzzed.

“Hi, Marta,” he said, mimicking the tone of an old friend. “The good news is that no matter how bad your brother looks, a minute ago he was still alive.”

“You’ll never see your fiancée again unless you release him.”

Marta’s voice sounded worried.

“I always assumed you’d kill her, so I’m not losing anything.” He climbed into the car. “The thing is, that works the other way around too. You’ll never see your brother again, unless you release my fiancée. So from this point on, I suggest you treat Liz gently. Because I swear to you, Marta, whatever you do to her, I’ll do to your brother.”