“Why a safe deposit instead of handing them over to the police or the Private Bureau?”

“Because I’m not going to hand them over,” Kim said. “I’m going to go to DS, and exchange Fairfax’s papers for Chingford’s life.”

“You’re going to—?”

“Exchange. Make a deal.”

“I know what it means. What was the other part?”

Kim took a deep breath. “I want a guarantee that Chingford will not face a capital charge. I don’t care how they do it—provocation, whatever. I don’t care if he ends up with ten years for manslaughter, if that’s what it takes. Just so he doesn’t hang.”

Will wasn’t sure what to say first. He went for, “Can the Bureau do that?”

“They can do something. Deals are struck every day. They’d doubtless have given Pisces immunity if he hadn’t got greedy. I’ll try not to be greedy.”

“Not greedy? You want your brother to get away with murder!”

“For Christ’s sake, Will, I don’t think this is a good thing!”

“I’m glad to hear that, because it stinks.”

“Granted,” Kim said thinly. “But I’ve got nothing else. For all we’ve done, I’ve achieved absolutely nothing.”

“You’ve proved Fairfax was Zodiac.”

“Which will do no good at all unless I leverage my findings with the Private Bureau.”

“Leverage? Sounds more like blackmail to me.”

Kim’s lips tightened. “I’d rather see it as bribery, but you’re doubtless right.”

Will examined his face. “If you save this brother’s life—”

“It won’t make up for the one I got killed. I’m aware of that.”

Will had no siblings and had never known his father. He had no idea what pressure was bearing down on Kim, what he was hoping for or fearing, what burdens or obligations he carried. “Hell’s teeth. Will DS agree to do it? Is he going to take this well?”

“He’s going to take it extremely badly. He’s going to invent an entire new philosophy of how to take things badly, just for me. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“You could give him the information and ask for help, instead of demanding it.”

“And what would I do when the response was, ‘Your brother’s guilty as sin, let him swing’?”

Will didn’t have an answer. He stared at the pale golden wine in his glass, catching the late light and casting amber shadows on the walls. “Can you live with this?”

“Can I bear the knowledge that someone close to me has taken human life? I think I can probably choke it down.”

“Hold on,” Will said, roused. “That was wartime. I didn’t murder anyone.”

“You’ve killed four people in front of me.”

“Three.”

“Four. That man in the wood died.”

“Did he? Balls.”