“Oh, Lionel, pass the mayo,” Meg said.

“And the white bread,” I said.

“Colonialist-invading, boat-having motherfuckers!” He sloshed what was left of the booze in his glass.

Having missed the inciting event, I couldn’t tell whether this was sarcasm or sincerity. Guessing was perilous when it involved Lionel’s deeper philosophy.

“Have another drink, babe,” Delia said, lacing her boots.

“Leaving?” I said. Redundant as she’d already headed for the door.

She awaited me on the porch.

“Speaking of whitey and the enemy . . . Believe it or not, Zircon are the white hats.”

“Compared to whom?”

“Don’t be a jerk. Words to the wise, Coleridge. Grain of salt and whatnot. Watch yourself with those people. Watch yourself with that whole family.”

“May have to go with, the hell with Labradors and Redlicks alike,” I said.

“Oh, to be a child again with a child’s solutions to problems large and small. Crying, breaking toys, tantrums—”

“Pouting doesn’t go out of style.”

“Picking up your ball and running home won’t always be an option.” She lit one of her chic cigarettes. Somehow, the tobacco scent heightened her allure. “I can’t decide if you’re really that self-destructive or if patronizing me is a sport.”

“Here I thought you came to canoodle with Lionel and score a free meal.”

“Some Column A, some Column B. Column C would be to talk you into not getting disappeared.”

“This isn’t nineteen seventies or eighties Chile and your dad isn’t Pinochet.”

“It’s getting there,” she said. “You might be in for a surprise if you ever tested that theory. Drop the funnies and catch a news broadcast.”

“Papa Labrador sent you, didn’t he? I’m getting whiplash from his moods.”

“Daddy likes options. The shooting-you thing wasn’t ever serious.”

“Yay! He did send you. Right?”

“It was my idea. He went along. Thanks to my badgering, he’s come around to the notion that you’re an excellent pawn. Lethal in the proper circumstances. Cheap and expendable. Then I saw Lionel and my heart got zingy and softened with the spirit of the season.”

“Zingy, eh? No comment. As for Papa Labrador, he’s made an error in judgment if he presumes I’m going to help him in any damned way.”

“Look,” she said. “I don’t have a clear picture of what you’re doing with Senator Redlick’s former hatchet man, except that it’s about a man who died at the Jeffers site.”

I regarded her in stoic silence.

“Daddy owned a chunk of that collider,” she said. “The project was extremely important to him. To us.”

“Multi-billion-dollar white elephant. I’m sure it made your cold hearts go pitty-pat until they froze in your chests.”

“Coleridge, you mistake me. This went deeper than stocks and profit margins. We shared a philosophy and an ultimate goal that transcended our identities as Redlick Group and Zircon Corp. So did the others who invested.”

“You can’t reveal the details, naturally.”

“Sworn to secrecy,” she said. “What matters is that you grasp the unholy fucking importance of this communal goal.”