Ours was the best in the city.
"Get those guys around front where the others are," Sal said. "I need to talk with Jerry."
"You're not going to have Brant talk to him?"
Sal shook his head. "I don't have time, and I doubt he knows anything anyway."
I waited until Sal walked away before turning to look at Officer Jenson. "Man, you lucked out. I haven't met anyone yet that can keep their mouths shut when Brant starts in on them. That man knows stuff that makes the Marquis de Sade look like an amateur."
"You can't torture police officers," Jenson said.
"You can't attack them in their homes either, and yet, you did that."
"I didn't know he was a cop. I swear."
"How could you not know?" I asked. "Who did you think he was?"
"Look—" Jenson gasped.
I turned to see what had freaked him out so much. "Uh-oh."
"Is that him?" Jenson asked. "Is that the Mossad agent?"
"Worse," I replied.
"There's someone worse than a Mossad agent?"
I nodded. "Yeah, Sergeant Clarke."
"Sergeant Victor Clarke?"
"Yeah." I turned to look at Jenson again. "How'd you know?"
Jenson didn't answer me. He just turned and started running.
I rolled my eyes and cocked the shotgun. "Jenson, stop!"
The guy kept running.
"I'm not going to chase you, Jenson. I'm just going to shoot you. It's going to hurt."
The guy kept running.
I pulled the trigger. The rubber bullet hit Jenson in the back, throwing him forward. He went tumbling down onto the ground, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
He didn't move.
"Shit." I started walking toward him. When I reached him, I glanced down at him. He was panting heavily and staring up at the sky, so I knew he was alive. I just wasn't sure if anything was broken or not. He had taken quite the tumble and with his arms zip tied behind his back. "Are you dead?"
"Think so," Jenson croaked out.
I settled the barrel of the shotgun against my shoulder. "Told you to stop."
"He'll kill me."
I frowned. "Who?"
Jenson's eyes widened as if he couldn't believe I asked that. "Clarke."
