One of the other people around the table--a small, waifish girl with blond hair and vivid green eyes--murmurs something inaudible in the old man's ear. He nods. "'Scuze us for a minute, Jackson?" he says to the lanky man. "And for God's sake, let 'em put their arms down, we're not in a fuckin' prison camp here."

Jackson nods to the other three, who lower their guns and usher Gordon, Donna, and Chen back out of the room.