He picked it up. It seemed to flow around his hands, his thumb actually appearing through one fluidly carved hole. "Nine shots," he said. "Bolt action. One minute. Evenly spaced along forty feet of Cor-ten steel. A foot above the bottom of the container. That foot clears an interior frame, which we couldn’t penetrate." He looked at his watch. "But look," he said, "you can watch me do it. I can’t prepare and explain it to you at the same time, not in any detail. He told you the truth, you know. We aren’t going to injure anyone." He was attaching the black bag to the rifle. He lay it back on its gray foam. "Time we get you into your apron," he said, reaching into the canvas bag and bringing out thick folds of pale blue plastic. It slid out to its full length.