Quinn shook his head. “It’s nothing. I was bluffing,” he said.
Zahir sat and leaned forward. He nodded slowly.
“I feared this might be the case,” he said. “All right. We will approach this from another angle.”
He held out his hand, and the figure Quinn never got a direct look at placed something in his hand: a hammer and a little packet of nails. Scooting his chair forward a couple of feet, Zahir counted out ten nails and placed them in a line on the arm of his chair. Then he held up the hammer.
“We will now play a little game,” he said. “It is a game I have already played with Tarek. What a shame that I must play it with you as well.” Picking up a nail, he placed it on the pinkie finger of Quinn’s left hand. “You are right-handed, correct?” he asked.
As if from very far away, Quinn p
