Edge

forever losing to scissors.
    “That doesn’t enter into our discussion. Who are you working with?”
    He then grew angry and the softer expression of a moment ago vanished. “There is no one! No conspiracy, no airplane hijackers, no subway riders with backpacks . . .”
    I glanced toward Bert. Not a blink of response.
    Zagaev noticed, discomfited. He’d be wondering who she was.
    I continued, “We know one person you’re working with. You were speaking to him on one of your employees’ relative’s phones not long ago.”
    His face filled with disgust. He muttered some words to himself. “It was not me! An impersonator. You people do this all the time.”
    Ignoring the tired denials, I said, “Well, Aslan, we have to assume you’re working with a cell and that it’s a threat to our national security. Given your misstep six years ago—your relation with the Pakistani couple.”
    “Murdered by you! I wasn’t guilty of anything. I confessed only so I wouldn’t be hounded. Or murdered myself.”
    I continued calmly, “We need to know who else is involved.”
    “Involved in what?”
    I continued, “Understand me, Aslan, I’m not an interrogator. I’m just asking you the questions that the interrogators will ask. I’m not trying to trick you. It’s not a strategy. I’m explaining to you.”
    “That in itself could be a strategy,” he offered with an oily smile.
    “Your life as you’ve lived it is over. We can make the case against you. The guns, the connection with Henry Loving, the fact you want to extract information from Joanne Kessler.”
    The smile faded some, hearing what I knew.
    Bert continued to watch, passively.
    Zagaev’s eyes slipped to her and back. “Who is your friend?” he asked me. “Why doesn’t she say anything?”
    “Who are you working with?”
    “I work in my carpet stores and in my restaurant. Why are you persecuting me? You plant guns in my trunk, you try to kill me with that projectile. You will be in very bad trouble over this. I have a right to a lawyer.”
    “We have you on tape.”
    “Fake, as I was saying. I’m bored with this now. You are very tedious, sir.”
    I sighed.
    I looked toward Bert. She lifted her index finger, ever so slightly.
    Grimacing, I paused then nodded.
    I pushed back and stood.
    Bert glanced toward the camera.
    I stepped forward and shut it off, unplugged and wound up the cord and started for the door, with the camera under my arm.
    Zagaev said nothing but his eyes widened. He’d be wondering why I was taking the camera with me. What did I not want preserved for posterity?
    As I pulled the door open, Bert rose and circled behind Zagaev. She drew the blinds over the one-way mirror. She looked at Zagaev’s shackled hands, then his lap. Her face revealed some satisfaction.Then she sat beside him and extracted from her jacket pocket a vinyl box about the size of a paperback book. It was bright red, as if warning that the contents were very dangerous.
    As she drew the zipper open loudly, Zagaev gasped.
    I stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind me.

Chapter 51
    “ WAIT!” THE PRISONER cried.
    His face had gone ruddy. “Please, you must be patient! Have a little patience! This is all very disorienting to me. One moment I’m driving along and the next, bang, here I am, my life threatened. You can understand that. Surely you can understand!”
    I turned just before the door closed. I slipped my foot into the jamb, stopping it. I looked back. Zagaev stared at the red box.
    Bert regarded me, her face completely impassive.
    “You’re stalling,” I said to Zagaev.
    “No, no! I will not waste your time.” His face collapsed. “Please . . .”
    I stepped back into the room, left the camera beside the door and leaned across the table. “If you help us out, I’m in a position to make sure that no one troubles your family, other than to interview them, provided none of them has committed any crimes.”
    “No, no, my family is innocent.”
    “You won’t have to worry about reprisals against them. I can arrange for them to be relocated. I’ll protect you too through trial and, if you fully cooperate, I’ll recommend to the FBI and the prosecutor that they take that into account in charging and sentencing.”
    “Can you protect my family,” he whispered, “from Henry Loving?”
    “Yes,” I said firmly. “I’ll protect you from him too.”
    A long moment of debate. I looked at Zagaev’s amulet, Alexander II with