"All right," he said, eyes turning away from Freid and toward Cara. She was staring at him, fear growing slowly on her face. He wondered what his own face betrayed; surely not calm anymore. He reached under his jacket and let his fingers slide over the hilt of his heavy pistol. He felt its warmth as soon as the grip settled into his palm. The weapon's status information appeared superimposed over Cara's face. He drew the weapon and brought it up to point at the back of Freid's head. The red targeting spot obediently centered there and waited, flashing. He braced the weapon with both hands. Cara brought up one hand to cover her mouth. Better she should cover her eyes, he thought.