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As one of the weekend warriors ahead in the tunnel continued his loud bellyaching, Shaw stood in the dank and dark, looking down at the dead hippie, checking out his handiwork.
He’d put a real nice tight burst in the head, neck and chest area of the four-eyed sucker as he came around the bend, hadn’t he?
A closed casket job wasn’t too shabby at a hundred feet moving in the dark, now was it?
“I still got it,” Shaw mumbled as he continued farther into the tunnel.
Up ahead, Minton and his men were cursing a blue streak. They dragged one of their own before him and laid him down at his feet. It was a skinny fair-haired dude of about twenty-five, moaning and crying as he clutched at his bleeding face.
“What’s his malfunction?” Shaw said to Minton.
“The bastard threw a grenade,” Minton said. “He caught a piece of metal in his cheek.”
“Let me see it,” Shaw said. “Move his hands out of the way.”
They did. The guy screamed as Shaw spread the skin and muscle back. Shaw looked at it. A piece of steel the size of a cornflake was stuck in the cheekbone.
“Give me a break,” Shaw said as he took out his Leatherman tool and pulled it free. “Stop being such a baby,” he said.
They had just taken him away when Shaw entered the side chamber and found Jodi Cushing’s body.
He looked at her dead open eyes, the look of dismayed shock frozen there. She’d probably been pretty hot once, he thought, glancing down at the length of her.
He looked at the rose pink lipstick on her lips.
Maybe not the head cheerleader but on the squad.
All this trouble to take her alive, he thought with a look of disgust on his own face. For what? Stupid. He would have whacked her clean and simple. Just her. Now all these others had to go, too? Patently ridiculous. He should be safe home and dry already.
He checked her pockets, searched around for her bag. Even did an underwear check.
There was nothing.
This wasn’t over yet, Shaw thought, shaking his head.
But at least half the mission was over. That was something at least.
Minton appeared in the doorway behind him.
“They blocked the end of the tunnel with something heavy. Won’t budge,” he said. “What now?”
“What time you got?” Shaw said.
“One a.m.,” said Minton.
Shaw nodded and snapped a pic of Jodi Cushing with his phone.
“Stay here so this way out stays blocked,” he said, standing.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll let you know. Just stay here and keep this position until I tell you otherwise.”
Shaw had just exited the front door of the museum when his phone rang.
He smiled when he looked at the caller ID.
Shahu, it said.
Table of Contents
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- Page 65 (Reading here)
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