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I put on my best friendly smile and said, "Ok, Harry, let's vamanose."
Harry sneered, "Who said you were going anywhere?"
"Now what kind of hospitality is that? I haven't had a chance to see VR yet."
I reached back and scratched my neck. And pull a little item from under my collar.
"Red, I'd like to stay and chat, but I think I hear sirens in the distance, and I just don't have time to discuss your funeral with you."
"Too bad. If you leave me behind, you'll just cry your eyes out."
A piece of metal made a rattling sound on the floor. Harry looked startled.
"You see, Harry, that was the safety pin on the deadman on this here little grenade. It's not H.E., or at least not much, It's just mil-spec tear gas. When my hand relaxes, it'll go off with a bang, and about one second later none of you will be able to see. Being caught cryin' over my corpse is a sure way to that life without parole. Assuming, of course, the Alameda cops don't get itchy. I won't care, either way. Now shall we go see VR."
Harry was just P.O.ed. "I'd like to make you eat that thing."
"Better not, I had beans last night."
"All right, get into the car."
"And try not to hit any bumps. My hand isn't as strong as it used to be."
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