Brodie knew that even if he looked like Stanley Dombroski, Taylor wasunder order from Trent to apply for the job. This manipulation of the CID by the CIA was disturbing. But that was the least of his problems today. Nevertheless, he asked, “Who was the lady?”
“No one you slept with.”
“That narrows it down.”
“I’m sure.”
“Sorry about my unwanted attention last night.”
“Not entirely unwanted. And not all on you.”
“We’ll wait until we have dinner at your place.”
She nodded, then said, “A pigeon.”
“For dinner?”
“No. How the hell can you mistake a heron for a pigeon?”
“I got it right on the second guess.”
“You only get one guess, Scott.”
“Mercer was on to us anyway.”
They heard Emilio’s voice outside, and it sounded like a one-way conversation, so maybe he was on a walkie. Brodie asked, “Ready to bust out of here?”
“I don’t know…”
“You can do this. Ready?”
Brodie got himself into a crouch and worked his hands under the log, and Taylor did the same.
He said, “Think of this log as one of your Civil Affairs people with a sucking chest wound who needs to be lifted onto a medevac.”
She nodded.
But don’t think of what’s going to happen to you if this doesn’t work. “Okay, one, two, lift!”
They lifted the log, but Brodie found it heavier than last time, meaning he was weaker, and he could tell that Taylor was drawing on the last of her strength.
“Hold on.” He walked the log around so his end was about three feet from the door. “Call for Emilio to come in.”
“Scott… my knees are buckling…”
“You have to get this guy on the chopper, Maggie. He’s bleeding out. Call Emilio.”
She took a deep breath, but instead of calling she asked, “Are we going to kill him?”
“No, we’re just going to crush his fucking skull. Call him.”
“My arms…”
“Kneel. We’ll get this on our shoulders. You can do it.”
They both knelt and pushed up on the log until it rested on their right shoulders. “Okay… stand.”
They both got themselves into a standing position, and Taylor said, “That’s better…”
