Big Jim measured Randolph with his eyes. “Indeed you are.”
When Randolph was gone, Rennie pulled the papers out of the envelope, looked at them briefly, then stuffed them back in. He looked at Carter with honest curiosity. “Why didn’t you give this to me right away? Were you planning to keep it?”
Now that he’d handed over the envelope, Carter saw no option but the truth. “Yuh. For a while, anyway. Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
Carter shrugged.
Big Jim didn’t pursue the question. As a man who routinely kept files on anyone and everyone who might cause him trouble, he didn’t have to. There was another question that interested him more.
“Why did you change your mind?”
Carter once again saw no option but the truth. “Because I want to be your guy, boss.”
Big Jim hoisted his bushy eyebrows. “
“Him? He’s a joke.”
“Yes.” Big Jim dropped a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “He is.
Come on. And once we get over there to the Town Hall, burning these papers in the conference room woodstove will be our first order of business.”
7
They were indeed
Barbie saw them as soon as the shock passing up his arms faded. His first, strong impulse was to let go of the box, but he fought it and held on, looking at the creatures who were holding them prisoner. Holding them and torturing them for pleasure, if Rusty was right.
Their faces—if they
There was no way to know that—reason told him the owners of the box might have a base under the ice at the South Pole, or might be orbiting the moon in their version of the starship
They had to be, because the sons of bitches were laughing.
Then he was back in the gym in Fallujah. It was hot because there was no air-conditioning, just overhead fans that paddled the soupy, jock-smelling air around and around. They had let all the interrogation subjects go except for two Abduls who were unwise enough to snot off a day after two IEDs had taken six American lives and a sniper had taken one more, a kid from Kentucky everyone liked—Carstairs. So they’d started kicking the Abduls around the gym, and pulling off their clothes, and Barbie would like to say he had walked out, but he hadn’t. He would like to say that at least he hadn’t participated, but he had. They got feverish about it. He remembered connecting with one Abdul’s bony, shit-speckled ass, and the red mark his combat boot had left there. Both Abduls naked by then. He remembered Emerson kicking the other one’s dangling
Barbie let go of the box and tried to get up, but his legs betrayed him. Rusty grabbed him and held him until he steadied.
“Christ,” Barbie said.
“You saw them, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Are they children? What do you think?”
“Maybe.” But that wasn’t good enough, wasn’t what his heart believed. “Probably.”
They walked slowly back to where the others were clustered in front of the farmhouse.
“You all right?” Rommie asked.
“Yes,” Barbie said. He had to talk to the kids. And Jackie. Rusty, too. But not yet. First he had to get himself under control.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Rommie, is there more of that lead roll at your store?” Rusty asked.
“Yuh. I left it on the loading dock.”