“Sneakers are a half size too big, but everything else fits fine,” she said. “Now let’s go deal with these mutants.”

I followed her out of the bathroom, trash bag in hand.

I pushed Trevor into the study as Angie went upstairs to check on Desiree.

We stopped by the front of the desk and he watched as I used another handkerchief to wipe down the sides of the chair where I’d been bound.

“Removing any trace of yourself from the house tonight,” he said. “Very interesting. Now why would you do that? And the dead valet—I assume he’s dead?”

“He’s dead.”

“How will he be explained?”

“I really don’t care. They won’t link us to it, though.”

“Wily,” he said. “That’s you all over, my young man.”

“Relentless, too,” I said. “Don’t forget why you hired us.”

“Oh, sure. But ‘wily’ has such a ring to it. Don’t you think?”

I leaned against the desk, hands crossed over my lap and looked down at him. “You do the wacky old coot imitation very well when it serves you, Trevor.”

He waved at the air with the third of his cigar that still remained. “We all need our bits of shtick to fall back on every now and then.”

I nodded. “It’s almost endearing.”

He smiled.

“But it’s not really.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “You have far too much blood on your hands for that.”

“We all have blood on our hands,” he said. “Do you remember some time back when it became fashionable to throw away Krugerrands and boycott all the products coming out of South Africa?”

“Of course.”

“People wanted to feel good about themselves. What’s a Krugerrand after all in the face of such an injustice as apartheid? Yes?”

I yawned into my fist.

“Yet at the same time that the beautiful, righteous American public boycotts South Africa or fur or whatever they’ll boycott or protest tomorrow, they turn a blind eye to the processes which provide them coffee from Central or South America, clothing from Indonesia or Manila, fruit from the Far East, just about any product imported from China.” He drew back on his cigar and stared through the smoke at me. “We know how these governments work, how they deal with dissent, how many employ slave labor, what they do to anyone who threatens their profitable arrangements with American companies. And we don’t just turn a blind eye, we actively encourage it. Because you want your soft shirts, you want your coffee, and your high-top sneakers and your canned fruit, and your sugar. And people like me get it for you. We prop up these governments and keep our labor costs low and pass the savings on to you.” He smiled. “And isn’t that good of us?”