Socrates did as he was told, and Virtue walked across the room to him with the syringe in her hand.

“That looks like a hell of a lot more than two cc’s,” remarked Cain.

“It can’t be refrozen,” she replied. “We’ll just toss the syringe into an atomizer when we’re done.”

“Terwilliger,” ordered Cain, “get over there and hold him still, just in case he has a change of heart.”

Terwilliger stared reluctantly at Socrates.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” suggested the gambler.

“My job is holding the gun,” said Cain. “Yours is doing what I tell you to do. Go on; he won’t kick you.”

Terwilliger hobbled over to Socrates very cautiously.

“I know about niathol, but I’ve never used it,” said Cain. “In my business, we’re not usually after confessions. How long before it takes effect?”

“About ninety seconds,” replied Virtue. “Maybe a little longer.” She had Terwilliger hold Socrates’ arm motionless, jabbed him a couple of times until she found a vein, and then began injecting the niathol.

And then things happened so rapidly that even Cain wasn’t sure of the exact progression.

Socrates casually removed his cigar from his mouth with his free hand, then suddenly pressed it against Virtue’s right wrist. She yelped and jumped back, letting go of the syringe, which remained stuck in his arm. Terwilliger reacted instantly, taking a roundhouse swing at Socrates. It landed on his neck, but the momentum carried the gambler’s body between Cain and Socrates.

“Hit the ground!” yelled Cain, but even as the words left his mouth and Terwilliger dropped to the floor, Socrates had forced the syringe’s plunger all the way down before Virtue could stop him.

“You lose, Sebastian,” he said with an ironic smile as Cain realized what he had done and lowered his weapon.

“You dumb bastard!” snapped Virtue. “You’ll be dead inside of a minute.”

“At least it’s painless this way,” said Socrates, his words starting to slur.

“Well, as long as you’re finally going to meet your God face to face, I hope for your sake that He’s the forgiving type,” said Cain.

“Not to worry, Sebastian,” said Socrates with a hollow laugh. “He’s in the bag.”

He slumped forward.

“Shit!” snapped Virtue. “Who the hell would have thought he’d do something like that?” She opened one of his eyelids, stared at the pupil for few seconds, then let it fall shut again. “He’s done.”

“He’s really dead?” asked Terwilliger, staring at him.

Virtue stared contemptuously at him and made no reply.

“Thanks a lot,” said Cain sardonically.

“Don’t you go acting so goddamned superior!” she shot back. “If you thought he was going to do that, you should have said so.”

“I should have done it my way.”