I frowned. “Darn. Now what am I going to get you for Christmas?”

“Go ahead, funny man,” he said, pointing the gun at the muted TV. CNN was showing highlights of the executions. “Let’s see how funny you are when you’re starring on that show.” He checked the gun. It wasn’t loaded. Another steel-lined box contained eight rounds. An emergency repair kit and a collection of bolts and screws filled the final box. Corbin then got down on his knees and began searching Chair’s underside.

“Careful,” Russell warned him.

I told him, “Don’t unscrew that white cap.”

Corbin hesitated. “Why? What’s in it?”

“Silicone. That’s what keeps the chair lubricated.” The reservoir actually did contain silicone, but its real purpose was to create a slippery trail if I was being pursued. It was Y’s homage to Bond, James Bond. Dickie hesitated, wondering if I was playing reverse psychology, or perhaps this was a double reverse. Did I want him to open it or not? Was it a trap or was there an escape tool in there? I almost hummed a dramatic theme. He left it alone and continued his search. I smiled with what I hoped looked like relief, not because I was relieved but because I wanted to screw with him.

He finished his search and stood up. For the first time he spoke to Laura. “You got something to say?”

“I’d like to know what’s going on. Why am I being held here?”

Corbin looked at Russell. “You want to tell her?”

Francis crinkled his nose. “Let it be a surprise.”

“Okay,” Corbin said. “We got to get going. C’mon, Stone, mount up.”

“I’ll help,” Laura volunteered, coming around to the other side of my bed. She leaned down and I swung my arm around her shoulders. She leveraged me to my feet. Mighty Chair was only a few feet away and Cher could have brought him over, but instead I struggled to get there, playing up my disability for the agents. As we got close, Russell put his foot on Chair’s seat and pushed it back against the wall. Laura glared at him with what I guessed was as much hatred as she could muster, then dragged me a few additional feet until I collapsed into the seat.

“Francis,” Corbin said to Russell without taking his eyes off me. “Take the young lady out to the car. I’ve got a few questions I need to ask Mr. Stone.”

First question, I was pretty sure: How’d that one feel, you bastard?

“I’ll go with Rollie,” she said firmly.

“No, no, you won’t. In fact, you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it.”

She stood her ground. Damn, she was terrific. But I didn’t want to see her get hurt. “Do it,” I said. “Go with him.” She considered her options. “Please,” I said.

The fight drained out of her.

I nodded. “Go. I’ll be okay.”

Corbin waited until we were alone, then let his hatred boil over. “Now you’re mine, asshole.” He took a step toward me. I smiled mischievously and let my bound hands hover over Chair’s controls. Corbin stopped, then circled around behind Chair. There wasn’t much I could do. I relaxed and closed my eyes. I was ready for it.