I put my hand up to stop him. Then with the flat of my palm I signal him to drop the sledge.

It would be easier to start speaking now, to actually tell him stuff, but I’m reluctant to reveal that much of myself until he’s completely where I want him to be.

“You want me to lose the hammer?”

I nod.

“How about I lose it in your head?”

He looks at me and then the gun and he lets the sledgehammer fall out of his hands. Keeping the 9mm on point I walk behind him and push him back to the ground. The car ride and the cold and this last piece of work have so wasted him that he embraces the ice like an old friend.

I put the snout of the gun on his neck and let him feel it there for a moment; then I take his hands and place them on his lower back; before he can try anything I quickly recuff him.

And that’s that. It’s over. No escape. If he gives me the wrong answers he’s dead.

I lay the gun on the ground, walk to the hole, pick up the ice debris, and throw it out. I widen the hole a little with the sledgehammer and then toss it away as far as I can.

Before he has the time to think I drag him backward by the cuffs into the ice hole. Takes all my strength, which isn’t much. When his legs touch the water, he begins to buck wildly but I’ve got enough momentum now to finish the job.

I shove the rest of him into the freezing lake.

Almost immediately his body begins to convulse in pain. I wouldn’t know but I imagine it’s like being electrocuted.

For a moment his legs stop kicking and he sinks beneath the water, but then-thankfully-he fights his way back to the surface.

Treading water, looking at me. His legs are powerful and he’s so strong I suppose he could keep this up for half an hour or even forty-five minutes if I assisted him a little from time to time.