Page 86 of The Chain

“Now, you bloody bitch, you’re going to get yours. You’re going to release Amelia tonight or I’m going to—”

“You’re going to do what?” Rachel snaps. “You think we’re dumb enough to give you a loaded gun?”

Mike stares at the weapon. “I—”

Rachel snatches the pistol out of his hands and gives it back to Pete, who finally seems to realize his mistake.

Rachel shoves the barrel of the .38 into Mike’s cheek.

“You still don’t get how it works, do you? Even if we gave you Amelia back, that won’t be the end of it. The Chain has to continue. That’s the way it’s set up. They’ll kill you and Amelia and your wife and Toby. They’ll kill all of you and start again. They’ll kill me and my family too.”

Mike shakes his head. “But I—” he begins.

Rachel pistol-whips the .38 across his face. He winces and staggers back toward a fish tank. She grabs the lapel of his jacket and stops him from falling.

She pulls him close. “Do you get it now?”

“I think so,” Mike whimpers.

She puts the gun under his chin. “Do you get it?” she insists.

“I get it,” he bleats and then he actually starts to cry.

She takes off his ski mask and lets the gun fall to her side. She looks at him and holds the moment for a beat, two, three.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

He closes them, and she takes off her ski mask, pulls his head down, and leans her forehead against his.

“Don’t you see? I’m saving you, Michael,” she says very softly. “I’m saving you and your family.”

He nods.

He understands now. Forehead against forehead. Victim and accomplice. Accomplice and victim.

“It’s going to be OK,” she whispers.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I promise.”

She puts her ski mask back on and hands Mike his mask.

She glares at Pete. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Get it together,” she hisses.

A dog appears from a side door, a big tawny-brown Alsatian. It freezes when it sees them. “Hey, boy,” Pete says. The dog comes over and sniffs Pete’s hand and likes what it smells there.

He pats it on the head. It sniffs Rachel and Mike and, satisfied, heads for the kitchen.

A TV is blaring from a room at the front of the house.

They follow the sound down a corridor hung with more family portraits.

In the living room, they find a large man snoozing on a recliner in front of Fox News. A jowly, powerful, fallen man taken down by events, like Gulliver.

He was reading the Bible. It has slipped to the floor next to him. There’s a gun in his lap.

Rachel nods at Pete.

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