The two women walked over to the old man, bent over, and began adjusting his weight so that they could pull him by his arms and shoulders. Virtue noticed the old woman’s hand snaking down toward Henry’s pocket and grabbed her by the wrist just as she was withdrawing a knife.

“I thought we had a bargain,” said Virtue with a nasty smile.

“Business comes first,” said the old woman, red-faced and panting from her exertions. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing quite as bad as you were going to do to me,” replied Virtue. “Let’s get dear old Henry into the shade first—and if you try anything else, or go for that gun in your basket, I’ll kill you.”

Once she had dragged the old man over to the tree, she turned to his wife and drew her pistol.

“I’m going to ask you once more—how can I recognize the third killer?”

“That really would be a breach of my professional ethics,” said the old woman. “Besides, if you shoot me, there’s every possibility that he’ll hear the sound of the gun and know where you are.”

“True enough,” said Virtue. She landed a heavy kick on the old woman’s knee, felt the tendons and ligaments give way as the woman fell to the ground and let out a scream, and stood back.

“That should keep you off the playing field for the rest of the day,” said Virtue, walking over to the basket and withdrawing a storage bottle. She opened it, saw that it was iced tea, closed it again, and walked back to where the old woman was sobbing and clutching her knee.

“It’s a hot day,” said Virtue. “There’s every chance the two of you will dehydrate before someone finds you.”

The old woman kept crying but offered no comment.

“Tell me what Number Three looks like and I’ll leave this with you.”

The old woman stared at her through tear-filled eyes. “Do your worst,” she said. “I won’t betray a trust.”

“Last chance,” said Virtue. “I can’t waste any more time with you.”

The woman shook her head.

Virtue shrugged and tossed the bottle on the ground about twenty yards away from them. Then she returned to the basket, removed the weapon, put it into her satchel, and headed off toward the tent.

When she arrived, she entered at the back. There were forty or fifty rows of benches on each side of a broad center aisle, and all but the last few were completely filled. Up front, at the makeshift pulpit, there was an electronic sound synthesizer that provided a soft, continuous background of hymns.