The Sisters looked toward the guest bedroom as they dragged the protesting bound couple toward the living room. There was a strange noise filtering out into the apartment from the guest room.

Yoko’s head jerked upright. She placed her index finger next to her lips for silence. Next, running feet could be heard in the hallway. Then shouts and curses.

Kathryn looked down at the bound couple. “Hey, you two, listen up. You hear what’s going on out there in the hall? This is just a guess on my part, but I think it’s the FBI, and they’re looking for you.”

Annie held up a copy of the morning edition of the Post so that the trussed couple could read the headlines and see the pictures.

The man started to laugh. “What makes you so sure they’re here for us? I think they’re here for YOU!”

“That’s true,” Nikki said. “but we’re going to get away, and you aren’t. Now, we have your backpack, and that means we have the memory sticks, which will give us access to all the funds you’ve stolen over the years. I want your real birth names, and I won’t ask twice.”

“I want a lot of things, too. Make it worth our while,” the man said.

“I wouldn’t give you the time if you were in a dark room,” Kathryn said. “We don’t have time for games.”

“I think it’s time to get dressed, girls!” Myra announced.

The Sisters ran to the foyer and opened the boxes. Within minutes they were dressed in white Hazmat suits. They moved slowly in a tight line back to the living room.

“In one minute we’re going to open the door to that room over there,” Annie told the couple, pointing to the door of the guest room. “That noise you probably thought was coming from a faulty air-conditioning unit is really coming from there. Inside are nine hives of killer bees. Either you talk, or we release the bees. Decide now,” she said, her hand on the crystal knob of the guest room door.

“Oh, God, I’m allergic to bee stings. I was hospitalized once for just one sting,” the woman said. “I could die if I’m stung again.”

“We know, that’s where we got the idea. Back when you worked at East Coast Savings Bank and were calling yourself Sara Brickman. Who are you?” Yoko asked.

“Margaret Pearson. His name is William Bell.”

“Shut the hell up, Margie.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. I told you we needed to stop at five years. Did you listen? No, you were too greedy. We wouldn’t be in this position if you had listened to me. Maybe you want to die, but I don’t. I told you we would get caught, but you wouldn’t listen. God, I hate you, Bill.”