The warden used the same knife to open the envelope. Inside, was a phone number on an index card, and a single piece of paper folded neatly in half. The warden read what was written there, then handed it to Ripley, whose lips moved as he read it in silence.

Dear Warden,

The enclosed videotape is to be IMMEDIATELY viewed by our mutual friend in the subbasement, and I trust you to make the necessary arrangements. In case you find yourself squeamish, I’ve kept a second copy of the same tape, and will deliver it to our mutual friend’s attorneys, if necessary. You can imagine our mutual friend’s displeasure should he discover any malfeasance on your part. I, of course, would also be VERY UNHAPPY.

With Warmest Regards to Your ENTIRE Family,

R

Ripley met the warden’s eyes, but there was little point in commiseration. They turned to the videocassette. The label on front had two words, in black ink.

Byrd Song

Ripley frowned. “X has been asking about Byrd all morning. You think it’s related?”

“It has to be.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Lock that door, and let’s get on with it.”

Ripley locked the door, and they met at the television in the corner of the office. The warden pushed the tape into the player.

“No way this is good,” Ripley said.

He was right about that.

The warden had no choice but to show it to X. He entered the subbasement carrying the tape as if it could still hurt him, largely because it could. He had no idea what X would do. Because of that, he stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Um, hello?”

Murmured conversation ceased, and X emerged from one of the cells. “Yes? Speak.”

“Ummm…”

“I said speak.”

“It’s about Byrd…” His arm rose with the tape. “This arrived with instructions I show it to you.”

X took the tape, and examined it. “Instructions from whom?”

“The tape is, ah, self-explanatory.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

As he spoke, four guards appeared with a television, video player, and extension cord. While they worked, X summoned his lawyers from the cell. Legitimate attorneys, the warden knew, all of them from a top firm in New York. That would be about X’s estate, his dying wishes. “Get started on what we discussed,” X said. “But stay close. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

They took the stairs up, burdened with briefcases full of God-alone-knew-what. When the machines were plugged in, the warden dismissed the guards, too. X watched them go, then turned with a stare so bottomless and black the warden felt a wet flutter where his heart would normally beat.

“Play it.”

The cassette rattled against the player as the warden tried twice to insert it. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” The machine welcomed the tape, at last, and the warden tried to walk away, eager to be anywhere else.