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Alex hadn’t so much as flinched, and I was impressed.“We’ll need a spade.”
“Or maybe we could leave him for the vultures?Do they have vultures in Oregon?”
“Turkey vultures,” Emmy supplied.“But is leaving him out a good idea?We don’t want to poison the wildlife.”
An excellent point, I had to grudgingly admit.“Burial would be the better option.”
Alex lifted the chair, and the driver’s head flopped to the side.Perfect.
“I’ll deal with it,” he said.
Yes, I really did like that man.
As Alex lugged the driver out the door, I centred a chair opposite Moscow and the Mule and took a seat.They knew I was serious now.The question was, would they be more scared of me or of whoever they were working for?
“Is he paying you enough to die?”
What was the going rate for assassination nowadays?My pay had been pitiful.Room and board and as much training as I could handle, plus a weekly stipend that I’d mostly frittered away on clothes.Occasionally, I’d wondered if I should save the money, but now I was glad I hadn’t.Even with Zacharov gone, someone would be monitoring my old bank account.
The Mule glanced sideways, a silent plea for help.This was a new situation for him, wasn’t it?And he hadn’t expected an interrogation quite like this.Maybe he’d been prepared for pain, for the good-cop-bad-cop Reid technique, for the empathetic approach some preferred to take.Me?I liked to keep people unsettled.
“You’ll kill us anyway.”Moscow spoke for the first time.“There’s no reason to keep us alive.”
“Talk, and I’ll let you live.”I reminded myself to relax.“We’re just freelancers doing a job, but I’m better at mine than you are at yours.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you’re here and Ottie Marquette’s still in the hospital.”
“I meant about letting us live.”
“Well… I hate digging, so there’s that.Can you be certain I’ll keep my word?No, but would you rather have a shot at living or a shot in the arm?”
The syringe lay in my lap, more threatening than any gun.Neither of them spoke, but the Mule fidgeted within the confines of his bounds, and a bead of sweat ran down Moscow’s temple.Even as de facto team leader, he was out of his depth.
“Time’s ticking, gentlemen.Shall I just pick someone?Eeny…meeny…miny…moe.”
My finger landed on the Mule, and I took another step forward, syringe at the ready.
“Wait!I’ll talk.”
“Excellent.”
I pivoted and jabbed the needle into Moscow’s arm, no hesitation, and his eyes saucered.
“Pizdets!I’ll talk, I’ll talk!What do you want to know?They hardly told us anything.”
See?Wasn’t that easy?If we’d turned them straight over to the authorities, those fools would have taken days to get this far.Rules, so many damn rules.I kept my thumb over the plunger, and Moscow stilled, watching anxiously as I slid the needle out of his biceps, his breathing shallow.
“Let’s start with an easy question.Which of you beat Ottie Marquette?”
Call it a test—I already knew the answer.When I searched the three men in the ambulance, I’d found the weeping dog bite on the Mule’s left calf, and now I owed Scooby Weaver a package of sausages.
Moscow jerked his head to the side.“He did.”
Nothing like dropping a buddy in it, was there?But at least he’d told the truth.
“Which means you searched her room.What were you looking for?”