Amanda's face tightened. Shaken by memories, she took a deep breath. "He…" She bit her lip and forced herself to continue. "I work in a bookstore in Manhattan. He came in a couple of times. Friendly." She hugged herself. "He must have followed me home to Brooklyn and figured where to park a car, where to hide. A few days earlier, my boyfriend moved out. I was living alone in an apartment I couldn't afford by myself. I was so worried about paying the rent, I didn't pay attention when I got off the subway and walked home."

"When was this?" Mack asked.

"I have no idea." Amanda shivered. "What date is it?"

"October twenty-fourth."

"Oh." Amanda's voice dropped. She sank into a chair.

"What's wrong?" Balenger asked.

"The night he grabbed me was June fourteenth." Amanda's eyes communicated her dismay and loss. "The store stayed open that night until ten. An author signing. I didn't get home until midnight. He had a cloth with some kind of chemical in it, something that he pressed over my mouth when I passed an alley." She took another deep breath. "When I woke up, I was on the bed upstairs. He was sitting next to me, holding my hand." She closed her eyes, lowered her head, and quivered as if she tasted something disgusting. "That's when he explained the facts of my new life."

"What does he look like?" Tod demanded. "Does he have a gun? If we end up fighting him, what do we need to expect?"

"Old."

"What?"

"Much older than me. Older than you." Amanda looked at Balenger, who was thirty-five.

"How old?" Tod asked.

"I'm no good at judging that. Anybody over forty looks-"

"You think he's over forty?" Balenger asked.

"Yes."

"Is he real old? He can't be if he overpowered you."

"Maybe in his fifties. Tall. Thin. Nervous thin. He has a neutral expression on his face. Even when he smiles, it's neutral."

"A thin guy in his fifties?" Tod began to look confident. "I think we can handle him just fine."

"He's very strong."

"Stronger than this?" Tod held up the pistol.

"He lifts weights."

"Thin weightlifters don't exactly leave me quaking in my shoes." Tod looked at Mack and JD. "Questions?"

"Yeah," JD said. "What are we hanging around for?"

Mack looked regretfully at Cora, then nodded. "Right. Let's grab the coins and get out of here."

"And them?" JD asked.

"We tape them to chairs," Tod said. He took the hammer from Balenger's hand and tossed it onto the pile of equipment. "We let Ronnie take care of them for us. That way, he'll get blamed. The cops will probably also blame him for the guy you threw over the railing."

"Please," Amanda said. "Get me out of here."

"Can't."

"Help me!"

"Hey, I'm sorry, but you're the reason he's pissed off. If we try to take you out of here, he'll come after you, which means he'll come after us. You can't expect us to be stupid about this."

"You bastard."

"Well, if that's how you're gonna be, get in that chair." Tod shoved her into it. JD grabbed the duct tape from a pile of equipment on the floor.

"Sweets, get in this chair," Mack told Cora.

"Hero, you get in this one," Tod said. The remaining chair was propped against the door. "And Big Ears, you stand against a two-by-four in the wall."

JD finished taping Amanda to the chair, securing her ankles and shoulders. Then he went to Cora.

"I'll do it," Mack said.

Balenger saw him feel Cora's legs and breasts while he worked the tape.

They put on the heavy knapsacks, then went to the vault and stuffed their pockets with coins. The weight made their bulging coats and pants droop.

"I hate to waste the pocket space, but we'd better take walkie-talkies in case we get separated," Tod said.

Moving awkwardly, they returned to the door. While Tod aimed at it, Mack and JD shifted the furniture away. Mack opened the door and stepped back.

Thunder boomed. Rain pelted the balcony. A chill breeze gusted in.

Tod shouted to be heard above the storm. "Ronnie, you don't need to worry! We're not taking your girlfriend! We're leaving her for you! And there's a bonus! We're leaving some new pals of hers, too! They're wrapped up like presents, all ready for you to enjoy! No harm's been done! We'll get out of your way! Maybe you don't know this place is gonna be torn down! The salvagers come next week! You might want to set up shop someplace else! How's that for being helpful? Sorry we barged in! No hard feelings! We're going now! Have fun!"

They put on their goggles and headed for the staircase. Tod hesitated and looked at Balenger. "I'm an artist, do you know that?" He crossed the room and went into the bedroom.

Straining, Balenger turned his head and watched him come out with an object in his hands.

"You need this to complete the picture," Tod said, approaching.

"No," Balenger said. The realization of what was about to happen filled him with despair.

Tod threw Balenger's hard hat away.

"Please, don't." Balenger's voice broke.

The object in Tod's hands was a pillowcase. He tugged it over Balenger's head.

43

It reeked of age and dust. "No," Balenger begged. "Take it off."

"What would be the fun in that?"

In panicked sightlessness, Balenger heard Tod cross the room.

"So long, everybody!" Mack said.

"It's been great!" JD said.

Balenger heard them descending the staircase, the sound of their footsteps getting fainter.

In his tortured memory, he sat tied to a wooden chair in a dirty concrete-block building in Iraq, a sack over his head, while the only one of his captors who spoke English threatened to decapitate him. Until this moment, he was certain that nothing more terrifying could ever happen to him.

Now he realized how wrong he'd been. The second time was worse. This was worse. Thunder booming. Rain pelting. Unable to see anything through the pillowcase except the faint light of the candles and the dim beam of the professor's headlamp pointing up from between his legs. The lamp's glow barely pierced the sheet that covered the headless body.

Yes, this was worse. Duct-taped to a chair. Breathless under the hood. Knowing that three other people shared the same death sentence. Waiting for Ronnie. Not being able to see when Ronnie arrived. Not being able to hear his footsteps because of the wind, the thunder, and the rain. Ronnie might be standing in front of him right now, about to slash with whatever he used to cut off the professor's head.

Balenger's chest heaved. His breathing was so labored, he didn't believe he could survive. Sweat surged from his body, from every pore, more sweat than he thought could possibly gush from him. It soaked his clothes. He was hot and then suddenly cold. Shivering, he told himself that now had to end sometime. It couldn't be prolonged forever. He'd managed to make it last a year since Iraq. A year was something. A year more than he'd expected. But now was about to end.

Thunder shook the building. Was Ronnie standing silently in front of him, about to use a scythe or a sword or a butcher knife? Will I feel the force of the blow before my throat gushes blood and my brain shuts down?

Hero. That's what Tod called me. Hero. A joke. A putdown. Hero? I toss from the same nightmare every night. I wake up exhausted, afraid to get out of bed. I needed every ounce of my remaining strength to force myself to come to this godawful place. All of it gone. Hero? The son of a bitch. Leaving us to die. The cock-sucker. Putting this pillowcase over my head. I won't let him get away with this. I'll find him. I'll track him down. I'll squeeze my hands around his throat. I'll…

"Vinnie!" Balenger's voice was muffled under the pillowcase. "Can you hear me!"