Chilcott seemed to be weighing his options.
Brodie took out his cell phone and began hitting the keys, saying to Chilcott, “I’m texting my boss, Colonel Dombroski… giving him a brief report of where we are, and who we’re with… That’s you, Trent Chilcott… And I’m telling him you threatened us, and if anything happens to us… Well, you know the rest.” Brodie stopped typing, stood, and said to Taylor, “You do the same. Do not push ‘send.’?” He looked at Chilcott. “Thank you for the offer of protective custody. And for your briefing. Now, call your guy in the lobby and let him know we’re leaving, and tell him to tell the Polizei that it’s okay.”
Chilcott hesitated, as though torn between wanting Brodie and Taylor gone, and keeping the two loose cannons in the safe house until the busts were complete. And, of course, there was always the possibility that CIA officer Chilcott had orders to terminate Brodie and Taylor with extreme prejudice. You never knew.
“Trent, don’t make me beat the shit out of you in front of your old girlfriend.”
Chilcott pulled out his cell phone, dialed, and said, “Peter, my guests are leaving… Yes. Please tell the police they can leave… All right.” He hung up and said to Brodie, “The Agency has a long memory.”
“And I have a short fuse. Walk us to the door.”
Chilcott stood and eyed his gun on the coffee table, then glanced at Taylor to see if she had taken her eyes off him. Of course she hadn’t. But he looked like he might go for the gun anyway…
Brodie delivered a powerful punch into Chilcott’s solar plexus, and the man doubled over like a folding chair, then staggered a few steps and fell to his knees, unable to breathe or speak.
Brodie said, “That’s for almost getting me and my partner killed in Venezuela. And you’re getting off easy, because I’m a softie.”
Brodie pulled Chilcott’s phone from his breast pocket and punched in a random access code, then did it five more times and the phone was disabled. He threw the phone on the coffee table, took Chilcott’s Glock, and shoved it in his pocket. He said to Taylor, “Let’s go.”
She stood motionless a second, looking at Trent Chilcott, who was still on his knees, his hands clasped to his abdomen, trying to breathe, saliva dripping from his mouth…
Brodie headed for the door. “Come on.”
She followed quickly, and they exited into the hallway, drew their guns, and headed down the staircase.
On the way down, Taylor said, “He deserved worse.”
“Do yourself a favor and call it even. I have.”
“You don’t know him,” said Taylor. “There’s more to come.”
CHAPTER 44
Brodie and Taylor reached the lobby and pocketed their guns. There was a guy in a black coat standing there looking at them. Brodie said, “Peter?”
He nodded.
“Did you tell the police we needed a ride?”
“No… I thought… I told them they could go.”
“Damn it.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. Trent wants you to wait here until he calls.” Which might be a while.
“Okay.”
“See you upstairs later.”
Brodie and Taylor exited the building, and Taylor said, “I must attract bullshit artists.” She pulled up a map of the area. “There’s a main road to the right… Bundesstraße. We can get a taxi there.”
They turned right and began walking quickly.
Taylor said, “Okay… now what?”
Well, he’d been on his way to Anna’s art gallery to re-interview her when he got diverted, but he wasn’t sure if that was actually a good use of his time, or whether he just wanted to see her again. Either way, he hadn’t pictured Maggie Taylor coming along with him.
