Alex's eyes slide from Vesna's face to the enormous key on the pew. His hand moves before his brain engages — a condition Mira has privately catalogued as his most reliable trait. He picks up the key with both hands, because it requires both hands, and nods toward the side door. Mira stares at him. "You realise she was about to reveal century-old secrets." "We can hear them on the way back," Alex says, already moving. The key weighs approximately as much as a medium-sized dog. Vesna watches all of this with the expression of a chess grandmaster who has just seen someone pick up the board and walk out of the room. She says nothing for three full seconds. Then one finger goes up. Alex freezes. "The door," Vesna says, with the precision of a surgeon, "opens inward. And the step is broken. Third from the top." She picks up the rakija. "I will wait."