“On top of me, the hog,” she said, displaying an expression of such loathing that I knew she’d had some part in his death. “Or when I was lucky, beneath me. Then I could just stare straight ahead.”

“Sex is a part of what you do?” I asked. My chance to act was approaching and I wanted to keep her talking.

“We enter into this work knowing what is expected of us. Hewett had unique information we wanted.” She shrugged. “He was drawn in first by the sex. That was the easy part for all concerned—except me, of course. Then I began to paint a picture on his pillow of the exalted role a man like himself could take in a new global structure, and how I happened to know a number of well-placed citizens who’d be involved in this transition. He found himself being treated with respect by those who normally wouldn’t have given him the time of day. That’s what he cared about—that and the things I let him do to me.” Her lips formed into the definition of a smirk. “Russ Hewett was no more a Nazi than I’m a Roosevelt Republican.”

So the litany Russ had spouted at the Heritage Picnic, his envisioning of how the United States might someday be dominated by Germany, was in fact what he had actually hoped for, and what Martha had made him feel he would be a part of.

It was time. I asked, “Can we turn on the space heater just for a while? It’s cold in here.”

“We aren’t turning on anything,” said Martha.

I asked Gail, in a concerned voice, “How are you, honey? Are you feeling cold?”

Gail shrugged. “A little, but I’m okay.” She sat down in a chair by the coffee table.

“Here, you can keep this around your shoulders.” I took off my suit jacket as if to offer it to her.

“She doesn’t need it,” said her mother.

“I’m not up to something, if that’s what you think. I just don’t want her getting a chill,” I said, ever solicitous of Gail’s welfare. I stood there, holding my jacket by its collar. Martha was immediately to my left, only two feet away, while over by the desk, Gunther continued to eye me warily. “Look, Martha,” I reasoned, “your deputy here already searched my pockets. If you want him to do it again, that’s fine with me. Here you go, pal.”

I gently tossed the jacket over to Gunther, who was surprised to see it land on his right hand, momentarily draping his gun. But he was not as surprised as Martha, whose eyes had been reflexively following the arc of my jacket, and who now discovered that I suddenly had a gun of my own and was pressing its barrel hard against her right temple.

“Nice trick,” said Martha.