Then I crossed the floor to Angie and Desiree. I stood at Desiree’s chair and turned back, counted off another fifteen paces from her chair. Angie came up beside me, and placed all five pieces of the disassembled Glock on the floor in a straight line.

We walked back to Desiree, and Angie untied her hands from the back of the chair, then bent and tightened the knots around her ankles.

Desiree looked up at me, choosing to breathe heavily through her mouth instead of her ruined nose.

“You’re crazy,” she said.

I nodded. “You want your father dead. Correct?”

She turned her face away from me, looked at the floor.

“Hey, Trevor,” I called. “You still want your daughter dead?”

“With every breath I have left,” he called.

I looked down at Desiree and she tilted her head, looked up at me through hooded lids and the honey hair that had fallen in her face.

“Here’s the situation, Desiree,” I said as Angie went and untied Trevor’s arms and checked the knots on his ankles. “You’re each bound at the ankles. Trevor a little less tightly than you, but not much. I figure he’s a little slower on his feet so I gave him a hair of an edge.” I pointed down the long, polished floor. “There are the guns. Get to them, assemble them, and do what you will with them.”

“You can’t do this,” she said.

“Desiree, ‘can’t’ is a conception of morality. You should know that. We can do whatever we put our minds to. You’re living proof.”

I walked to the center of the room, and Angie and I stood there, looking back at them as they flexed their hands and got ready.

“If either of you gets the bright idea to join forces and come after us,” Angie said, “we’ll be on our way to the Boston Tribune newsroom. So don’t waste your time. Whichever one of you lives through this—if either of you does—would be best served getting on a plane.” She nudged me. “Anything to add?”

I watched the two of them as they wiped their palms on their thighs, flexed their fingers some more, bent toward the ropes at their ankles. The genetic resemblance was obvious in their body movements, but it was deepest and most glaringly apparent in those jade eyes of theirs. What lived in there was greedy and recalcitrant and without shame. It was primordial and knew more about the stink of caves than the airy leisure of this room.

I shook my head.

“Have fun in hell,” Angie said and we walked out of the room and locked the doors behind us.