Alex took a deep breath. Paused. “Listen, I’m sorry about my language,” he said. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just that this is none of my affair.”

Something in his tone caught Jenn’s attention. His shoulders were down, his hands up and open in a placating gesture. She knew what he was about to say before he opened his lips. It hit her with a sick shame and disappointment.

“I was in on robbing Johnny,” Alex said. “But I was tied up inside the office when your friend came. I didn’t shoot him. I didn’t have anything to do with that part.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mitch looked back and forth. “You’re seriously putting this on us?”

“It is on you. I wasn’t there.”

Mitch shook his head. “You coward.”

“Gentlemen.” Victor’s voice was cold. “A couple of things you need to understand. The man you shot wasn’t my friend. And I don’t care which of you pulled the trigger. All I want is what’s mine. Now. Where is it?”

Jenn’s pulse was pounding. She looked at Mitch, could read his thoughts. He was going to tell Victor that they had found what he was after, that it was in the back of a purple Eldorado parked down the block from her apartment. And maybe that was best. Give it up to him and get on with their lives.

Only, what if that’s not what he has in mind? This is a man who has Johnny clearly terrified. What happens when you no longer have what he wants?

It was all happening too fast, event piling on event. She needed time to think, to figure this out. It was like being back in the alley, that sense that everything hung by a thread, but that she had a chance, a slim, delicate ribbon of a chance, to make things work out. Even just to buy them time to talk and make a plan. Only how? What could she possibly say?

Mitch said, “Victor, sir-”

Suddenly she knew. Jenn cut in. “Before we dumped the car, we went through it. And we found a bag in the trunk.”

Ian and Alex both whirled to look at her. Mitch was staring, and she could see him thinking, God bless him, see him trying to figure out what she was doing. She hesitated a moment, then said, “It had four one-quart bottles in it.”

Victor said nothing, gave no outward sign of menace. Nonetheless, the air seemed to coalesce around him, a subtle hardening and cooling.

“We didn’t know what they were. But we figured that if someone was willing to pay that much for them”-she shrugged her shoulders-“we kept them.”

“Where are they?”

Her palms were moist, her armpits soaked. An old line flitted through her head, something to the effect of women didn’t sweat, they dewed. She almost laughed, fought off the hysteria. She looked at Mitch, tried to beam the thoughts over to him, praying that he would somehow telepathically understand.

“Ms. Lacie?”

“They’re in a safe-deposit box. At my bank.” She managed to say it without her voice cracking.

“A safe-deposit box? Why?”

Mitch said, “We didn’t know what they were. And they were worth so much.”

The urge to smile rose like champagne bubbles, but she fought it away.

“I see. Let’s go get them.”

This was the risky part. She opened her mouth, closed it. Tried to think coolly, to let the panic show but not the calculation. “It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“The bank is closed.”

“Convenient.”

She shrugged helplessly. “Not to us.”

“Funny, though, isn’t it? What I want is somewhere you can’t get it?”

“Hey,” she said, “you picked the time to bring us here. Not me.”

Victor made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a hmm.

“Listen, cunt.” Johnny came off the wall. “Stop fucking lying and get the man what he wants, and you do it right fucking now. Or so help me-”

“I have the key,” she said.

“What?”

“The key. It’s in my purse. Can I get it?”

Victor made a why-not gesture. Hands shaking, she dug into the change compartment of her bag. The key was a simple brass thing, unmarked, about the size of the one she used to get her mail. She held it up. “See?”

The room was air-conditioned to January temperatures. She stood with the key out in front of her like a magic totem, like it was something that could protect them from harm. It felt flimsy and small.

“Let me have that.”

“No,” she said, her voice coming out raspy.

“No?”

“None of us meant to steal from you. I wish we hadn’t done this at all. It was stupid. But if we give this to you now, how do we know you won’t…”

“All I’m interested in is my product.”

“We’ll give it to you. Monday morning. At the bank.”

“Because you’ll feel safe there.”

“Yes.”

“You understand I could take it from you now.”

“I could scream.”

“And my people could shoot you.” He gave a small smile. “But I’d rather not do it that way.” He rubbed at his chin, and in the pin-drop quiet of the room she could hear the grating of his fingers against stubble. “You really never have done anything like this before, have you? You’re honest-to-Christ amateurs.”

“That’s for sure,” Johnny said.

“Look, Victor”-she leaned forward-“you’re right. We’ve never done anything like this, and we wouldn’t have done it if we knew what would happen. We don’t want to be any trouble. But we can’t get them today. If we could, believe me, we would. But-”

Victor glanced at his heavy gold watch. “OK. It doesn’t really matter if we get it alone or with you, today or Monday morning.”

Fear’s fingers unclenched a notch on her heart.

“What does matter is that you believe every word I say. For example, when I say that if you go to the police or try to leave town or try to in any way play me, it’s not just your own lives in the balance.” He paused. “I don’t enjoy it, but believe me, I can make some very unpleasant things happen.”

“I believe you. I swear to Christ I do.” Part of her wanted to just give in, tell him where the bottles were, but it was too late now. She forced herself to stare back at him, and let the fear into her eyes.

“What about the money?” Ian had been quiet, and his voice came as a surprise.

Victor shrugged. “The money was allocated for the purchase. It’s not my concern.”

“Wait a second,” Johnny Love said. “You’re going to let them take my money?”

“You let them take it. Not me.”

“We can keep it?” Ian’s voice was level, like he was negotiating a corporate deal.

“You’ve got my word.”

“No fucking-”

“Johnny.” Victor’s eyes flashed like razor wire. He turned back to Ian. “Yes. You can keep the money.”

“What about him?”

“I’ll personally guarantee that Mr. Loverin won’t come after you.”

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“I hate repeating myself. I already told you to believe every word I say. So when I guarantee your safety, believe it. But also believe that if you play around, I will have men visit your father with a ball-gag and a belt sander.”

Ian paled. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“He does. Because what I can do to him will make you do what I say. Understand?”

Silence.

“Look, it’s simple. The four of you are clueless. You found yourself in possession of something that belongs to me. I want it back. If you oblige, there’s no reason for me to hurt you. I mean, what are the four of you going to do?” Victor smiled. “Killing you would be a waste of resources. So yeah, it really is that simple. Give me what I want, and you can not only get on with your lives, you can keep the money. Or don’t, and force me to start doing terrible things to you and yours until you cave and end up doing what I want anyway.”

The silence that fell had weight and texture. Victor held the pause, then brought his palms together like he was praying, and inclined them toward Jenn. “Monday morning?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, just nodded.

“OK.” He smiled, showing bright, straight teeth. “Have a good weekend.”