text: We had agreed on four minutes. I now sat at the T-junction, keeping track.
  
  When the time was up, I moved into the corridor leading to the front landing. The master bedroom door was as we had left it. I wheeled myself onto the landing, only to see that the hall below was empty. Where is he? From where I was, I couldn't see all of the living room, but the complete absence of sound raised a multitude of questions in my head.
  
  "Hey!" I yelled.
  
  Silence.
  
  "Hello? Where are you? We want to talk!"
  
  Nothing.
  
  Had he left? No, that can't be…
  
  I ran my eyes across the space below me once more before shouting, "Hey you! You want the laptop? I know where it is. Talk to me!"
  
  A second later, Jane entered the periphery of my vision. She had rounded the bend that led to the other half of the house and was now in full view of the front door camera. She was glancing about nervously.
  
  Just go. Don't look, just go, I mentally urged her.
  
  "Hey you!" Still nothing.
  
  Keeping to the walls, she crept across the open space and into the dining area.
  
  Almost there.
  
  I felt something cold press against the nape of my neck. Something metallic.
  
  "Stop right there!" he shouted from behind me. Jane took a few more steps. "Stop, or the cripple gets it." She halted and looked up at us. "Don't!" I cried. "Just go!"
  
  The intruder moved to my side and pressed the barrel of the gun against my temple. "I mean it, lady."
  
  "Let her go." I said under my breath. "I ha—" I felt a hard smack land on the right side of my face. He had slapped me with the gun grip. I cried out in pain, surprised at the searing intensity of the blow. I tasted blood on my lips.
  
  "Shut up!" he barked. He waved the gun at Jane. "You! Get me the laptop."
  
  Jane stood rooted to the spot like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm not asking," he said in a singsong voice. He pressed the barrel of the gun once more against my head. That seemed to jolt Jane out of her petrified state. "I'll get it! Please don't hurt us!" she cried.
  
  "Where is it?"
  
  "In the jacuzzi room."
  
  "You have two minutes. If you are not back by then, I'll start with his kneecaps. Three minutes and it's his melon. You got that?"
  
  She nodded, but didn't move.
  
  "Go!" he yelled. She ran toward the study and disappeared from view.
  
  I was alone with him. I swallowed the rusty aftertaste of blood and tried to speak once more. "You shouldn't have—"
  
  I received another stinging blow from the gun. I didn't cry out this time because I saw it coming; still, it didn't make the pain or my surprise any less. "You hard of hearing, fool? Or you just stupid?" With his other hand, he grabbed my hair and jerked my neck back so that I was looking up at his masked face. "I don't want to hear a word from you! You understand?" He held me like that for a second, pulling at my roots. My eyes travelled to the ceiling. Then it struck me. Of course, I thought. Stupid, stupid, me. How could I have forgotten? I nodded and he let go of my hair. I felt like an idiot as I sat there red faced, more from embarrassment than from the slapping I'd received.
  
  Jane reappeared. She was clutching the laptop across her chest.
  
  "Put it on the dining table," he barked. "Good. Now move to the wall behind you and sit on the floor with your hands behind your head."
  
  He stepped forward, meaning to go down the stairs. I felt something tugging on my wheelchair as I too rolled ahead. He lurched, his arms clutching at the air. Before I knew what was happening, my chair leaned dangerously forward as the front wheel went over the edge of the landing. The next instant, the chair tipped, and I was falling with him.
  
  The stairs raced up to meet my face as I instinctively raised my arms to shield it. I sprawled down the stairs, elbows and casts taking the brunt of the impact. I heard a sickening crunch as one of my legs struck a hard edge—I couldn't tell whether it was the plaster breaking or something worse. The wheelchair bounced over my back and went rattling down below, overtaking him as he grabbed on to a baluster to arrest his fall. A whimper of pain escaped my lips.
  
  What just happened? It felt like something had snagged against the wheelchair…
  
  I lifted my head up to see Jane sprinting toward the bottom of the staircase. She uttered a cry of exultation as she picked something off the ground.
  
  The gun.
  
  With outstretched arms, she pointed it at the intruder. He tried to stand up, still gripping the railing. "Stay!" she cried in a trembling voice. "Stay where you are!"
  
  He ignored her command and took a step forward.
  
  "I'll shoot. I mean it!"
  
  He climbed down two more steps. She pulled the trigger.
  
  Nothing happened. She racked the gun and tried again. It did not fire.
  
  "What the—" She brought the gun closer to her face to examine it. Her perplexed look quickly turned into one of surprise. "It's a replica!" she shouted. "You cheap-ass amateur! You brought a fake gun!" He bounded down the steps two at a time. Jane gripped the gun by barrel and flung it at him. Her aim was good but his reflexes were better. He ducked, letting the projectile fly past his head. He immediately straightened and ran down the remaining steps. I stared in horror, because it seemed like he was going to attack her, but instead he leapt at the dining table, where she'd placed the laptop.
  
  Jane got to it first. She grabbed the device with both hands and took a hard swing at his head. He parried with his left hand and took the impact on his forearm. A shattering sound filled the air. He sprang back a few steps and seemed to ready himself for the next blow, knees bent, arms raised in front of him like a boxer. Jane had not let go of the laptop; she too took a couple of steps back and steadied herself. Her face was clenched into a tight grimace. She then did something completely unexpected: with a cry, she twisted around and flung the laptop away like a frisbee. It sailed into the kitchen and crashed into a wall somewhere beyond.
  
  She then reached into her jacket and pulled out the knife she'd put there earlier. She sliced the air with the weapon. "You want to try me? Let's go! I have a brown belt in Krav Maga. What do you have, bitch?"
  
  He hesitated.
  
  "Bring it!" she snarled.
  
  He stood his ground, but only for a second. "Fuck this shit!" he said, backing away. "You broke it," he said, jabbing a finger at Jane, but his eyes were on me. "You broke the laptop!" he said again, as if he was trying to emphasize something. "To hell with you dipshits. This ain't worth it anymore."
  
  He turned around and ran into the empty bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him.
  
  Jane just stood there with her knife pointing at nothing, her body still tensing for a fight. She took a couple of tentative steps toward the bedroom as if she was expecting the door to open any moment. After what might have been two minutes or fifteen, we heard the engine of a car come to life and then roar away.
  
  She went into the bedroom nevertheless, to make sure he was really gone.
  
  I had managed to sit up when she returned. She climbed the stairs to where I was and knelt in front of me. Her face was flush with blood. "You okay?" she asked, her lips still trembling from the adrenaline.
  
  "Like a rag doll that's just been let out of the washer. But more importantly, how do I look?" I said, trying to smile, but my mouth made a wince instead. There was a sharp pain in my right leg, and a duller, throbbing hurt in the other. My face was beginning to swell from the gun slaps. "That was a brave thing you did," I said. "Krav Maga, huh? Since when do you know martial arts?"
  
  She shrugged. "He bought it, didn't he?"
  
  "Is it over, finally?" she then said, her eyes give me a once over again.
  
  You broke it, he had shouted before leaving. It was now clear to me what he meant by it. I groaned softly as I prepared to stand up. "Let's make sure it is. Help me down first."