“Yes, little girl,” says Brophy, “you sure are.”
Melissa turns back toward Damon and spits in his face.
Brophy’s grin gets wider. The shotgun droops lower …
Now!Alex lunges for the barrel. The gun goes off, blowing a huge divot in the floor. Brophy jerks back, thrown off balance by the recoil.
Melissa whirls around and kicks Brophy straight in the balls.
CHAPTER 104
Sampson
“PERKINS! WHERE ARE YOU?”
I can hear Tom Walsh calling from the entryway. When nobody answered his knock, he pushed in through the unlocked door.
Aiden Phillips is hidden beside the office door. He aims his pistol at Perkins and opens and closes his hand to mimic talking.
“In here, Tom!” Roland Perkins calls out.
I’m standing at the side of the sofa, wondering if there’s a way to take Phillips down. Should I warn Walsh or just let things play out? Phillips had a dozen chances to kill me tonight, and I’m still standing. For some reason, he wants me alive as a witness.
What is it he wants me to hear from these two spooks?
Walsh walks into the office and stops short, clearly startled to see me there. He takes a few tentative steps farther into the room. “John Sampson? What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
“He’s with me,” says Phillips, stepping up behind him.
Walsh freezes when he feels the pistol at the nape of his neck. Then he raises his hands slowly. “Let’s be cool here.”
“Okay,” says Phillips. “I’m cool. You can turn around. Slowly.”
Walsh pivots until they’re face to face. “Phillips!Jesus fucking Christ!”
“Now, back up,” says Phillips, nudging Walsh toward the sofa. “Take a seat.”
Walsh settles nervously on the opposite side of the sofa from Perkins. As Phillips limps out of the shadow, Walsh glances at his bloody leg.
“What happened there?” he asks. “One of your bombs go off in the workshop?”
“No,” says Phillips. “Somebody was trying to shut me up. Permanently.” Phillips looks at me. “Take his phone.”
I move behind Walsh, reach into his jacket pocket, and pull out his iPhone.
Phillips eyes Walsh. “You armed?”
“Armed? This is Georgetown, not the O.K. Corral. See for yourself.” Walsh lifts his jacket above his belt and opens the flaps. Then he lifts his pants legs to mid-calf. “You want to see my dick too?”
Phillips takes a step closer. “No. I want to talk about Lieutenant J. T. Polermo.”
Walsh has been playing it tough. Now I actually see him flinch. For a guy who’s been trained his whole career not to give anything away, it’s a pretty big tell.
“Polermo? What about him? I haven’t seen him since we got back.”
“How about the others?”
“What others?”
