“Richard.” Ethan’s voice carried over the hood.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Richard turned the battery over, found the notch, and snapped it firmly into the back of the heavy satellite phone.

Across the gravel drive, Victoria straightened her silk cardigan and stepped gingerly around a damp patch of lawn.

“He’s going to ruin the carpet in the entry hall, Ethan,” Victoria said, her fingernails clicking hard against the crystal flute in her left hand.

“That Persian rug cost more than your old pickup, Colonel.”