She said, “Scott, stand behind him.”
Brodie knew the drill and took up a position about five feet behind Chilcott, effectively limiting what Chilcott could do to turn this around.
Taylor said to her old friend and mentor, “Left hand. Very slowly, Trent. Slowly.”
He brought his left hand under his blazer and slowly pulled his gun from his holster, holding the butt between his thumb and forefinger.
“Drop it.”
He let the gun fall to the floor.
“Move away.”
Chilcott moved away from his gun, and Brodie retrieved the 9mm Glock.
Chilcott, coming out of his shock, said, “I could walk out of here, and neither of you would shoot me.”
Brodie suggested, “It’s worth a try, Trent.”
Taylor seemed to be in a weird zone and practically shouted, “I told you. I told you what I would do if you tried to betray me again.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“You bastard. You used me as bait to get Scott here. You have always used me, lied to me, manipulated me…”
“If that’s true, Maggie, you should pull the trigger.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
Brodie thought that Chilcott should not be goading Maggie Taylor, given her family history. You can take the girl out of Appalachia, but… Brodie pointed Chilcott’s gun at him and said to Taylor, “I’ve got him covered, lower your gun. Chilcott, you sit down.”
Taylor hesitated, then lowered her gun, but kept her eyes on Chilcott as though she reserved the right to resume her two-hand grip and paint Trent red.
Chilcott sat in an armchair and crossed his legs, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Just another day of dealing with lesser beings.
Brodie said to him, “I don’t like your pocket handkerchief.”
“It was a gift from Maggie. That’s why I wore it.”
Brodie expected to hear Taylor emptying her magazine at Chilcott. He glanced at her and saw she’d calmed down, and was standing near the window, checking out the street. He and Taylor had control of the situation, but getting out of here was going to be a challenge.
Brodie took a seat opposite Chilcott, and Taylor put her back to the wall and held the Makarov at her chest in a two-hand grip.
Brodie tossed Chilcott’s Glock on the coffee table between them. He said, “We all deserve to have choices in life. Now you have a choice. You can answer my questions, or you can go for your gun. You stonewalling is not one of your choices.”
Chilcott eyed the gun on the table, less than five feet from him, calculating his odds.
Brodie said helpfully, “If it were me, I’d go for it.”
Chilcott looked at him. “That’s because you’re an irrational idiot with more ego than brains.”
“You’ve been reading my 201 file.”
“I didn’t have to. Maggie told me all I needed to know about you.”
Taylor said, “That’s not true.”
Brodie didn’t know if it was true—or partly true—but it pissed him off. So, rather than continuing down ex-lovers lane, he got down to business. “Trent, what are you actually doing in Berlin? Why are you here?”
