She played along with my silliness and said, “How sweet.” She looked at the rifle and exclaimed, “You didn’t have to be so extravagant, John.”

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

I picked up the carbine and explained its operation and its many fine points, then I handed it to her and said, “Feel how light this is.”

She took the rifle, hefted it, and agreed. “I could carry this into Locust Valley and walk around with it all day.”

“And it fits nicely under a car seat.”

“I can see that.”

I took the rifle from her, slapped in the magazine, checked the safety, and chambered a round. I said, “You just click it off safety, aim, and pull the trigger. It’s semi-automatic, so it will fire each time you pull the trigger – fifteen rounds. Okay?”

She nodded.

I then demonstrated how to get off a hip shot for close targets, then I raised the rifle to my shoulder and said, “For a shot of let’s say, over twenty feet, aim it as you would aim a shotgun for skeet, but you don’t have to lead the target, and-”

Unfortunately, Sophie appeared at the door just then, screamed, and fled.

I thought I should go after her – without the rifle in my hands – but Susan said, “I’ll be right back,” and left to track down Sophie.

I used the time to make us two light vodka and tonics. I was feeling good that Susan and I had finally and completely put the past behind us, and also I was feeling good about buying the rifle and the shotgun ammunition, and good, too, that Felix Mancuso was on the case.

What was also good was that Amir Nasim had decided to put in a full security system, which, if he was really concerned, he should have done some time ago. Then, I had this thought that Felix Mancuso had taken the opportunity to scare the hell out of Nasim, telling him perhaps that it had come to the attention of the FBI that the threat to his life was real and imminent. Condition Red, Amir.

But would Mancuso have done that to Nasim just to get him to pay for the Sutters’ round-the-clock security service? Or was it just a coincidence that Nasim was talking to those security advisors after Mancuso’s visit? Possibly Nasim had called them as soon as he discovered that the gatehouse was in his possession. In any case, I had the feeling that Felix Mancuso had given Nasim the same advice he’d given me: Hire some guns.

Susan returned and told me, “I gave her a raise.”

“Will she clean my guns?”

“No, John, but I assured her that you’re fairly normal, and I gave her the raise because there’s an extra person in the house now.”

“Good. Did you tell her that the Mafia is after us?”

“No, I did not. But I will brief her again about answering the door to strangers.”

I informed Susan, “There won’t be many strangers calling. Nasim has instituted a new regime for Stanhope Hall.”

“What do you mean?”

I handed her her vodka and tonic and said, “I just ran into him, and he was talking to some security advisors.” I toasted, “To a new Iranian-American mutual defense treaty.”

I briefed Susan on my conversation with Nasim, and she commented, “This is going to be very inconvenient… and it affects my quality of life.”

I pointed out, “So does getting killed.”

She thought about that and said, “This is not what I hoped for when I returned.”

“I’m sure not. But… well, we all have to give up some freedom for security.”

“No we don’t.”

I’d had this argument in London, and here in New York with Susan. It was a matter of degree – how much personal freedom do we want to give up and how much freedom from fear are we getting in return? I said to Susan, “Let’s see how it works. Meanwhile, no more running around the property naked.”

She smiled.

I also told her, “He’d like us to take out our hedges for our mutual security.” I added, “I told him, however, we like our privacy.”

Susan thought about that and said, “If he didn’t have such a problem with the dress code… or the undress code… well, I think Nasim is just putting the pressure on me to sell.”

“That is certainly part of it.” I looked at her and said, “You should think about that.”

“I will not.”

“Then buy the estate back from him.”

“And where would I get that kind of money?”

My eyes drifted, unconsciously, to the carbine on the coffee table.

She made a few mental connections, looked at me, and said, “That’s not funny.”

“What?” I asked, innocently.

She changed the subject and asked, “What did you and Mancuso talk about?”

I briefed her on our conversation about Anthony Bellarosa’s disappearance, and the possible scenarios that might play out in the next week or two. I also discussed with her Felix Mancuso’s reassurances concerning our houseguests and our children.

On this subject, she asked me a lot of questions, so I gave her Mancuso’s card and said to her, “He wants you to call him, and you should ask him all your questions, and mention any concerns you have.”

“All right. I’ll do that today.”

“Good. Also, you should know that Special Agent Mancuso paid a visit to Mr. Nasim, and that may have prompted the fortification of Stanhope Hall.”

Susan thought about that and asked, “How did we get involved with all of this? All these people…?”

I hoped that was a rhetorical question, because if I had to answer it, I’d have to begin by bringing up things we’d just agreed not to speak about ever again. Of course, the Nasim problem was not of Susan’s making, but if Susan had not urged Frank Bellarosa to buy Stanhope Hall, then the estate would not have been seized by the government, and quite possibly it would now be owned by a nice family who didn’t know anyone who wanted to kill them, and so forth. And if Susan hadn’t had an affair with and murdered Frank Bellarosa, then Susan and John would have been living here in marital bliss for the last decade, without worrying about being the object of a Mafia vendetta. And so forth.

But rather than mention any of that, I replied, “This will pass.”

She looked at me, and asked, “What would I have done without you?”

I had a similar question, but… well, I’d made this decision with my heart, not my head, so… I shouldn’t ask myself too many questions.

Susan moved on to more important subjects. “I have a caterer coming to help me shop and cook for the week, and I have Sophie all week, and I think we have enough wine, beer, mixers, vodka, Scotch, and everything, but Mom and Dad drink gin martinis and we don’t have any gin. They drink Boodles. So, would you mind running out for gin?”

“I just went out for guns.”

“Please, John.”

“Okay. I’ll see if I can get a pass to leave the compound.”

She ignored that and asked, “Should I call my parents and tell them about the new security at the gate?”

“That might be a good idea.” I suggested, “Tell them it has to do with Nasim, not us.”

“Of course. And I’ll let Edward and Carolyn know. Peter, too.”

“And Nasim wants the names of our guests in writing. So please take care of that.”

“I will.”

“Don’t forget our household staff, tradespeople, and delivery people.”

“I’ll take care of it.” She commented, “This sucks.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll be back within the hour. Meanwhile, take the shotgun shells upstairs and put the carbine in the hall closet.”

“Don’t you want to take the carbine?”

“No, I’ll take the Taurus.”

“I mean… do you believe we’re having this conversation?”

I didn’t reply to that, and said, “I’ll see you later.”

She decided to walk me out to the car, and before I got in the Taurus, she gave me her cell phone and said, “Call me.” Then she gave me a big hug and a kiss, and said, “Be careful.”

I got in the car and headed down the long drive toward the gatehouse.

The gates were still open and unmanned, and I turned right onto Grace Lane.

After about a minute, I saw a black Escalade coming toward me, and it slowed as it got closer.