"You're parasites--all of you." Fereman snatched up the paring knife and began to chop broccoli in savage, abrupt motions. "You take our money for years and then, when we really need it, pay back--nothing!"

"No, it doesn't work like that." Adler leaned on the counter and picked up a chunk of the cauliflower, turning the firm white flesh over in his fingers. "Insurance, or assurance, as it was formerly known, is an ancient and respected practice, dating all the way back to the Babylonians and the Greeks and the Code of Hammurabi. Civilization itself is founded on insurance. None of us would be here without it."

Fereman's telltale eyes jerked toward him, naked in their insecurity and anguish, their overwhelming need for order in a malevolent world, begging to be led.

Adler lowered his voice into its most soothing register. "You must understand that once you sign with Horizon Surety, Mr. Fereman, it's in our best financial interest, as well as that of our brother agents, that you never have any reason to collect. We want only the best for our clients. Long, safe lives and happy families, that's our motto." Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out the sheaf of papers, delighting as always in the crisp dry rustle of Whole Life.

Fereman's fingers tightened on the black-handled paring knife as Adler spread the papers over the butcher block counter, smoothing the creases away.

"Never to worry again." Adler locked eyes with Fereman. "To place the security of those you love in the safest and most sheltering of hands . . . to come to rest at last."

Two small boys with hair so light that it was almost without color burst into the kitchen, arguing at an ear-splitting pitch. Fereman's head swung around to stare at them without making a sound.

"So what have we here?" Adler dropped to one knee. "A disagreement among brothers?"

"He took my Nintendo!" the more red-faced of the pair shouted. "He went right in my room and stole it!"

"You weren't using it!" the other returned.

Adler shook his head. "Such fine boys," he murmured. His hands touched their pale, slender necks and he felt them stiffen. "Treasures, really, but also hostages to Fate." His fingers caressed the exquisitely soft young skin.

"Let them--go." Fereman's voice was a hoarse whisper.

Adler's lips slid back over his teeth, baring a long, sharp smile. "Oh, I'll let them go, but what about the rest of what waits out there, the doctors and their diseases, the careening schoolbuses and crashing airplanes, the speeding trucks and--"

Fereman snatched up the policy papers and scrunched them between his hands into a lopsided ball. "You can't promise safety from those--things! No one can! You can't cheat--death!"

"Not cheat, exactly." Adler ruffled his long, thin fingers through the wispy hair of the child on his right. "Compromise would be a more accurate word."

"Compromise, then." Fereman swallowed convulsively. "You--can't do that."

"Oh . . ." Adler let the word slid out in one long susurration. "You know the old saying, `where there's a will, there's a way.'"

"You can't!"

Adler leaned forward, focusing on Fereman's terrified eyes. "Try me."

The policy lay in the middle of Adler's desk, waiting. Hands in his pockets, Fereman hovered close to the door. "So, if I sign it, then what?" he demanded. "Nothing bad happens to my family--ever again?"

"That of course depends entirely on you." Adler moved the black pen closer. "There is an important rider that you will have to live up to." He thumbed to the fateful clause, located neatly--and somewhat invisibly--amidst the small print on the last page. "In addition to the previously named monthly cash payment, a further premium will be due by the last day of each month in the form of a newly signed policy for the friend, relative, or acquaintance of your choice."

"A policy?" Fereman's chin quivered. "You expect me to sell insurance?"

"Yes." Adler studied the fevered pulse in Fereman's neck. The small man was a trifle overwrought, but it was to be expected. He remembered fidgeting a bit himself in the beginning all those years ago, but the appreciation of what was being offered, the true sense of mission would come to this initiate as it inevitably did to all of them. "Now that you are to be a member of our insurance family, it's your duty to return other lost sheep to the fold."

"That's ridiculous!" Fereman pushed the policy away. "I already have a job!"

"You dare compare that menial mucking about to this sacred calling?" Adler snapped. "This is a great privilege!" He settled into his well padded chair and fitted the tips of his fingers together. "How did you think agents got their start anyway? Did you think just anyone could join the order?"

"I won't do it!"

Adler sighed. "But you will, dear boy, although I admit it might take the loss of another member of your family, perhaps even two to make you see reason."

"My family?" Fereman's hands fell to his sides.

"Well, I had thought we were past all that." Adler leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the desk. "Think, my boy. Suffering is an inherent part of life, necessary and unavoidable, therefore why not make the other fellow's suffering work for you?" He caught Fereman's gaze, searching for the granite he knew lurked somewhere behind those weak gray eyes. "There are only two types that matter in this world, William Leroy Fereman, the Insurers and the Insured. All else is merely chaff." He folded his hands. "Now, in this moment, you must choose on which side you--and those dearest to you--will stand for the rest of your lives."

Fereman eyes darted about like birds trapped inside a glass building, tormented by the sight of the denied skies. His mouth struggled to produce sound. "If I--" His adam's-apple bobbed. "My family, will they be--safe?"

Adler guided the other man's trembling hand to the pen. "They will be part of a much larger family, looked out for by your brother agents, as you, yourself, will have the responsibility to look out for theirs."

Fereman's fingers closed around the pen's slim black shaft.

"Do you swear, William?" A warm rush tingled through Adler's veins as he remembered that moment so many years ago when he had taken that giant step into a broader, more meaningful existence. "Do you promise to forsake all others, cleaving only to the Company for as long as your life shall last?"

Fereman's head nodded convulsively.

"Then sign."

The other man's hand skittered across the crisp white sheet, leaving behind the thin black tracery of lines which would signify for all time that William Leroy Fereman had Decided.

Adler picked the policy up, holding it as tenderly as a babe about to be baptized. "For in as much as you have consented here today--" He smiled across the desk, feeling a fierce joy as he always did at these moments. "--and witnessed the same where all may see, I pronounce you--" Palm up, he held his hand out to the newest member of his family. "Brother William, GDH-54-300934-4."

Slowly, as though his body was being operated by faraway puppeteers, Fereman's arm raised in little jerks until their palms met. Adler took the other's icy hand and closed his own over it, holding it fast.

"Forever and ever," he said softly. "Amen."