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"What?!"
I released one hand from his shirtfront.
"Okay, okay! Fine!"
I grabbed and steadied him. He gulped air, then cast a surreptitious glance at the ground and shuddered.
"Let's clarify that," I said. "What exactly are you offering?"
"My estate. All of it."
"Your personal estate? Not good enough. I want your business holdings, too. Every dollar, every share, every last thing you own. Offer me that."
"Wh--what would I live on?"
"Start over. You're a smart guy. You could make a living. At least you'll be alive. That's more than we can say for Lake and Bryce, isn't it?"
"I'll give you my holdings in every thing but Promethean Fire."
I let go. He shrieked, arms windmilling. Before he fell, I grabbed him by the shirtfront, hauled him up, and bent over him.
"Wanna try again?" I said.
His shirt tore, just an inch, but the sound ripped through the silence like a chainsaw.
"All of it," he said. "Goddamn you. Take it all."
"'Cause nothing's worse than dying, right? Tell me, Ty, what would you have done if Armen Haig had made you the same offer? Promised you every thing he had? Would you have let him live?"
Winsloe's shirt tore another inch. He stared at me, wild-eyed, lips moving soundlessly.
"Let me answer that for you, Ty. It's 'no.' He could have offered you millions and you still would have killed him. Why? Because his death was worth more than all the money he could give. The few seconds of amusement his death offered was worth more."
"Please," he said. "Please, I'm going to--"
"Fall? Hah. Too easy. You fall. Clay rips your throat out. Game over."
"It's not a fucking game!"
I cupped my hand behind my ear. "What's that, Ty? I think I misheard you."
"I said this isn't a fucking game. It's my life!"
"No, it's your death. Hey, there's an idea. Not a game, but a game show. This Is Your Death. Now, I've got to admit, I'm a bit young to have seen This Is Your Life. I only know the title, so I'll have to improvise. Cross it with something I do remember watching as a kid. Let's Make a Deal."
I pulled him back onto the branch and helped him get his balance, keeping my hands wrapped in his shirtfront.
"You--you want to negotiate." He wiped sweat from his face and swallowed loudly. "Okay. Good. Let's negotiate."
"Negotiate? Hell, no. I'm making a deal regarding the method of your execution, Ty. You're going to die. That's a given. The only question is how?"
"N--no. No. Wait. Let's talk--"
"About what? You've already offered me every thing you own. You have nothing else to offer, do you?"
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He stared, mouth working soundlessly.
