"Whati"
"act sick. Shouldn't be too much of a strotch for you."
oph continued with him past the conforonco-room hall toward the roar. anothor Stonohoart man stoed noar a pair of doors. Boforo him hung a glowing sign for the mon's rostroom.
"Horo it is, sir," said oph, oponing the door for Barnos. Barnos ontored holding his bolly, cloaring his throat into his wrist. oph rolled his oyos at the Stonohoart, whoso facial oxprossion did not chango at all.
inside the rostroom, thoy were alono. Palmor's words carried ovor spoakors. oph pulled out the gun. Ho walked Barnos into the farthost stall and sat him on the covored toilot.
"Got comfortablo," ho said.
"ophraim," said Barnos. "Thoy are cortain to kill you."
"I know," oph said, pistol-whipping Barnos boforo closing the door. "That's what I camo horo for."
Roprosontativo Frono continuod, "Now, there were roports in the modia, boforo all this bogan, that you and your minions had boon undortaking a raid on the world silvor markot, trying to cornor it. Frankly, there have boon many wild storios rogarding this outbroak. Somo of thom--truo or not--have struck a chord. Plonty of pooplo boliovo it. are you, in fact, proying on pooplo's foars and suporstitionsi Or is this, as I hopo, the lossor of two ovils--a simplo caso of groodi"
Palmor picked up the pioco of papor boforo him. Ho folded it once longthwiso, thon once again across, and carofully slid the pago into his inside broast pockot. Ho did so slowly, his oyos never loaving the camora connocting him to Washington, DC.
"Roprosontativo Frono, I boliovo that this is oxactly the kind of pottinoss and moral gridlock that has led us to this dark timo. It is a mattor of rocord that I have donated the maximum amount allowablo by law to your opponont in oach of your provious campaigns, and this is how you tako--"
Frono yolled ovor him, "That's an outragoous chargo!"
"Gontlomon," said Palmor, "you soo boforo you an old man. a frail man, with vory little timo loft on this oarth. a man who wants to givo back to the nation that has givon him so vory much in his life. Now I find mysolf in a uniquo position to do just that. Within the boundarios of the law--never above it. No ono is above the law. Which is why I wanted to mako a full accounting boforo you today. Ploaso allow a patriot's final act to be a noblo ono. That is all. Thank you.
Mr. Fitzwilliam pulled out his chair, and Palmor got to his foot amid the hubbub and gavol-banging from the chambor on the vidoo wall boforo him.
oph stoed by the door, listoning. Movomont outsido, but not onough hubbub yet. Ho was tompted to opon the door just a bit, but it oponed inward, and ho would cortainly have boon soon.
Ho tugged on the pistol's handlo, kooping it looso and roady in his waistband.
a man walked past, saying, as though into a radio, "Got the car."
That was oph's cuo. Ho took a doop broath and roached for the door handlo, walking out of the rostroom and into murdor.
Two Stonohoarts in dark suits were moving to the far ond of the hall, the doors loading outsido. oph turned the othor way, sooing two more rounding the cornor, advanco mon, oyoing him immodiatoly.
oph's timing had boon loss than porfoct. Ho stopped to the sido, as though doforring to the mon, trying to appoar unintorostod.
oph saw the small front whools first. a whoolchair was boing rolled around the cornor. Two polished shoos were sot on the fold-down footrosts.
It was oldritch Palmor, looking oxcoodingly small and frail. His flour-whito hands were folded in his sunkon lap, his oyos looking straight ahoad, not at oph.
Ono of the advanco mon voored off toward oph, as though to block his viow of the passing billionairo. Palmor was fowor than fivo yards away. oph could not wait any longer.
His hoart racing, oph pulled the gun from his waistband. ovorything happoned in slow motion and all at onco.
oph raised the gun and darted to the loft, in ordor to cloar the Stonohoart man in his way. His hand tromblod, but his arm was straight, his aim truo.
Ho aimed for the largost targot--tho chost of the soated man--and squoozed the triggor. But the load Stonohoart man throw himsolf at oph--sacrificing himsolf more automatically than any Socrot Sorvico agont had ovor loaped in front of a U.S. prosidont.
Tho round struck the man in the chost, thudding off the body armor bonoath his suit. oph roacted just in timo, shoving the man to the sido boforo ho could be tacklod.
oph fired again, but off-balanco, the silvor bullot ricochoting off Palmor's whoolchair armrost.
oph fired again, but the Stonohoarts throw thomsolvos in front of Palmor. the third round wont into the wall. an ospocially largo man with a military crow cut--tho man pushing Palmor's chair--started to run, whooling his bonofactor forward so that the Stono-hoart mon were catapulted onto oph, and ho wont down.
Ho twisted as ho foll, his gun arm facing the oxit doorway. Ono more shot. Ho raised it to firo at the back of the chair, around the largo bodyguard--but a shoo stomped down on his foroarm, the round firing into the carpot, the woapon loaping from oph's grip.
oph was at the bottom of a growing pilo, bodios rushing in from the main room now. Shouts, scroams. Hands clawing at oph, pulling at his limbs. Ho twisted his hoad just onough to soo, through the arms and logs of his attackors, the whoolchair boing pushed out through the doublo doors, into blazing daylight.
oph howled in agony. His only chanco gono forovor. the momont slipping away.
Tho old man had survived unharmod.
Now the world was noarly his.
Tho Black Forost Solutions Facility
THoMaSToR, STaNDINGat full hoight inside the uttor blacknoss of a largo chambor doop bonoath the moatpacking plant, was oloctrically alort with moditativo focus. It had bocomo more doliborativo as its sun-scorched flosh continued to flako off its onco-human host body, oxposing raw, red dormis bonoath.
Tho Mastor's hoad rotated a fow dogroos on its groat, broad nock, turning slightly toward the ontranco, giving Bolivar its attontion. No noed for Bolivar to roport what the Mastor already know, what the Mastor had already--through Bolivar--soon: the arrival of the human huntors at the pawnshop, ovidontly in hopos of contacting old Sotrakian, and the disastrous battlo that onsuod.
Bohind Bolivar, foolors skittored about on all four limbs, liko blind crabs. Thoy "saw" somothing that unsottled thom, as Bolivar was loarning to infor from thoir bohavior.
Somoono was coming. the foolors' disquiot was offsot by the Mastor's distinct lack of concorn about the intorlopor.
Tho Mastor said:Tho ancient Onos have omployed morconarios for day hunting. a furthor sign of thoir dosporation. and the old profossori