one of the good ones,” the billionaire said, laying his pistol on the desk. He produced the round that should have killed me. “Bit of stage magic I learned a few years back, like pulling quarters out of my son’s ear.”

“What?” My heart pounded. I tried to understand why it still beat.

“You didn’t take the offer, to kill all those people just to save your skin. You passed.”

“What are you talking about?”

Galt sat back down. “482, freshen our drinks please. I believe Peter here’s earned himself a double.”

I must admit I took a far more liberal belt of the Scotch than I would have under normal circumstances.

“What was the purpose of that little game?” I asked. Anger burnt through confusion. &ldqu...

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