“If you don’t leave now, you won’t make it.” Donatti adjusted his scope, squatting as still as a stone frog. “I’ll wait a few minutes. If you don’t come back by then, I’ll just assume that we’ve parted ways.”

There was no time for contemplation.

“I’m keeping this.” Decker held up the gun. “Go, Jon. I’ll follow you. Be careful!”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Just move!”

Once they had made it down the stairs and onto the ground, Decker, looking through the scope, scanned the area. Then he grabbed Jonathan’s hand. Using the IR lens for visibility, he twisted and turned around aisles and aisles of tall shelving, around boxes and machinery—gingerly and quietly. He dragged Jonathan along as he negotiated the path to the back. Time took on a surreal quality. It was without parameters like hours spent in a casino; in reality, it took only a few minutes to reach the back door.

Pushing it open, stepping over the threshold and then out into a wet and chilly freedom. The rain was coming down in cold, big drops, the ground beneath them slick and filled with mud holes, forcing them to tread with caution. Still, they jogged and didn’t stop until they were at the van. Jonathan’s hands were shaking as he pulled out the keys.

Decker opened the driver’s door. “Go find a phone booth and call up the State Police. Then call up NYPD and ask for Detective Mick Novack from the two-eight. Don’t tell him any details, just to get his butt out here. Don’t come back here. The less you’re involved, the better.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I can’t leave him alone.”

Jonathan stared at him. “You can’t be serious. Didn’t you just tell me this wasn’t worth getting killed for?”

“I don’t intend on getting killed—”

“You’re relying on Donatti for protection?”

“If I don’t go back, Jonathan, your brother-in-law is dead!”

Jonathan looked away. “My wife’s obligation may be toward her brother. My obligation is with my brother. You’ve got a wife and children. You’ve got to leave.”

“I can’t do that.”

Jonathan regarded him with tears in his eyes. “And how do I comfort Rina at the shiva?” He hugged him tightly. “You don’t know what’s going on. He could be setting you up.”

“Perfectly true. But if I don’t return, he’ll think I froze. I can’t let that maniac have that kind of superiority over me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Then you should be concerned. Insanity is genetic.” He patted the driver’s seat. “In.”

Jonathan paused, then climbed into a damp, cold seat. Though clammy, it was still better than squatting, taut with terror. He regarded his brother. “I still have the gun you gave me.”

“I have protection, so you keep it.” Decker shut the van’s door. “With God’s help, you won’t need it. Go!”

Jonathan placed the key into the ignition. It coughed, it sputtered, it choked, but eventually the pistons kicked in. The motor was breathing, albeit asthmatically.