“Where is it?”

“A safe deposit box at First National Trust downtown. Under a name your father has never heard.”

I looked out the window. The sky had gone a bruised, violent purple, and the wind was beginning to howl, whipping the snow into blind white sheets.

A Nor’easter was coming ashore.

“I’ll go,” I said.

“We both go.” He was already getting up. “The box takes two keys and a live biometric. The manager holds the guard key, I hold the other, and the scanner wants a hand I still happen to be attached to.