Page 66
Story: Secret Weapon
“Because she doesn’t trust people easily, and yesterday, you tried to kill her.If the positions were reversed, how would you respond?”
Okay, so I wouldn’t have knocked on the door.And maybe I’d have used a jammer as a precaution.
“Do you have a landline?”Alex asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Then let me call her.If I make any wrong moves, you can shoot me.I know you’re capable.”
“And if it’s not Emmy?”
“Then there are two of us against whoever is upstairs.”
Was Alex telling the truth?I really didn’t want to shoot him.Disposing of dead bodies was a pain in the ass.But he was right—I’d do it if I had to.And then I’d get the hell out of Baldwin’s Shore.The weapons locker doubled as a panic room, and there was a hidden trapdoor in the ceiling.I could stock up on hardware, then surprise whoever was waiting above before I left town.
“The phone is to the left of the screens.Move slowly.Keep your hands in the air until you get there.”
He did as instructed, then lowered one hand to dial and switched the phone onto speaker.
“No secrets,” he told me as it rang.
“Control room.”
“It’s Alex.I need to speak to Emmy.”
“She’s on radio silence.”
“Then I need you to patch me through.”
“She’s in the middle of—”
“I know exactly where she is.Patch me through right now.”
The next voice I heard was Emmy’s.“Alex?Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m with Dasha.Everything’s fine, and she’d like her cameras back.”
“Everything’s fine?How do I know you don’t have a gun to your head?”
Alex gave me a weak smile.“I’d email a picture, but you’re jamming the signal.Dasha wants to know why you didn’t just knock on the damn door?”
“Because new information has come to light.”
What new information?Alex looked at me, and I shrugged.
“Unblock the signal, and we can talk about this over coffee like civilised people.”
“Where are you?”
“At Dasha’s place.”
“The house is empty.”
“No, it’s not.It just looks that way.Emmy, we drank too much liquor and fell asleep.There’s nothing more to it.”
A pause.“What’s the name of my dog?”
I knew what Emmy was doing.Testing me.If Alex gave the wrong answer, I’d never know, but she would.
Okay, so I wouldn’t have knocked on the door.And maybe I’d have used a jammer as a precaution.
“Do you have a landline?”Alex asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Then let me call her.If I make any wrong moves, you can shoot me.I know you’re capable.”
“And if it’s not Emmy?”
“Then there are two of us against whoever is upstairs.”
Was Alex telling the truth?I really didn’t want to shoot him.Disposing of dead bodies was a pain in the ass.But he was right—I’d do it if I had to.And then I’d get the hell out of Baldwin’s Shore.The weapons locker doubled as a panic room, and there was a hidden trapdoor in the ceiling.I could stock up on hardware, then surprise whoever was waiting above before I left town.
“The phone is to the left of the screens.Move slowly.Keep your hands in the air until you get there.”
He did as instructed, then lowered one hand to dial and switched the phone onto speaker.
“No secrets,” he told me as it rang.
“Control room.”
“It’s Alex.I need to speak to Emmy.”
“She’s on radio silence.”
“Then I need you to patch me through.”
“She’s in the middle of—”
“I know exactly where she is.Patch me through right now.”
The next voice I heard was Emmy’s.“Alex?Where the fuck are you?”
“I’m with Dasha.Everything’s fine, and she’d like her cameras back.”
“Everything’s fine?How do I know you don’t have a gun to your head?”
Alex gave me a weak smile.“I’d email a picture, but you’re jamming the signal.Dasha wants to know why you didn’t just knock on the damn door?”
“Because new information has come to light.”
What new information?Alex looked at me, and I shrugged.
“Unblock the signal, and we can talk about this over coffee like civilised people.”
“Where are you?”
“At Dasha’s place.”
“The house is empty.”
“No, it’s not.It just looks that way.Emmy, we drank too much liquor and fell asleep.There’s nothing more to it.”
A pause.“What’s the name of my dog?”
I knew what Emmy was doing.Testing me.If Alex gave the wrong answer, I’d never know, but she would.
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