Directly in front of him, facing away, was a massive, high-backed oxblood leather desk chair on rollers. All he could see of Doug Bacon were his spit-polished black boots and his arms. His left hand, poking out from the armrest, cradled a tumbler of whiskey.

Lou aimed the gun at the back of the impressive chair.

“Okay, Bacon, it’s over,” he said. “Keep your hands where I can see them and turn around nice and slowly.”

A few tense seconds passed before the chair swiveled. When it came to a stop, Lou could only stare, struggling to process what he was seeing. The man seated there was not the stocky fellow Lou had seen through the windows. Rather, this man was old and withered. Harris, Bacon’s butler. Before Lou could react, he was startled by a voice from behind him.

“Before you move, Dr. Welcome, I’ll need you to drop your gun. The other choice is I’ll shoot you through the back of your head right now. The count begins at one and ends at two. One…”

Lou dropped his gun and raised his hands. The people on the screens in front of him had gone silent, motionless.

“Good,” Bacon said in a distinct Southern drawl. “Now, then, turn around slowly … slowly … that’s it.”

Lou turned to see the man he knew was Doug Bacon pointing his cane at Lou’s chest. The head of the cane, a resplendent, glittering gold lion’s head, was flipped down, revealing the muzzle of a rifle.

“This beauty cost me over ten thousand dollars,” Bacon said, addressing the videoconference attendees as much as his captive. “A master Swiss watchmaker put the mechanism together. It’s a mechanical marvel. Believe it or not, the magazine actually holds five bullets. But, especially at this range, I am a deadly shot with it, so I expect if that is what I wish to do, I will only have to use up one.”

These monsters are going to sit wherever they are and watch my execution, Lou thought.

“But I will add one for what I owe you for my friend, Alexander,” Bacon was saying, “and one for each of the men you killed outside, and probably one for the good fellow you murdered in my surveillance room. He is dead, isn’t he?”

“Define dead,” Lou said.

“You should be praying, doctor, not being snide.”

“I do snide better. Face it, Bacon. You’ve lost. All of you. You’ve all lost. The FBI knows who you are, and they’re on their way. Whether you kill me or not, you’re finished.”