“—but New Haven wanted her bad. They poached her, and she was waiting for the right time to tell everyone.” He thought about it and added, “Probably because they were going to be so pissed that she was taking Colonel Bridges with her—”

“Bro,” Rufus said, long and low. “Did Evangeline tell you that? Specifically?”

“Tell me what?”

It looked to Sam that Rufus’s façade nearly fell, but he managed to clarify, without a hint of irritation, “Did Evangeline tell you that the colonel was following her to this new job?”

“Oh. Yeah, I mean, she was kind of pissed about it because the guys at New Haven made the offer contingent on that, and she was like, I’m valuable because of who I am, not because of my client list, and I was like, maybe you aren’t, but I mean, I didn’t say it out loud.”

Jesus Christ, Sam thought. And then he asked, “New Haven? Like, Yale?”

“Huh?”

“Who’s New Haven?”

“Oh. New Haven Security. Why’d you think it was Yale?”

“Don’t mind him, he’s been salty ever since Yale rejected his college application,” Rufus explained as he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Those SAT scores are a real bitch. So. Do you think some douche at Conasauga found out?”

Anson licked his lips. “They wouldn’tkillher.”

He didn’t say it, but behind the words, Sam heard the question:would they?

“Would it be a big deal if Colonel Bridges had gone with Evangeline? Was he in charge of major purchases, that kind of thing?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. That it would be a big deal. It’s kind of complicated. It’s not like he could authorize huge purchases on his own, but in this business, it’s all about connections.”

“And the colonel was a good guy to know?”

Anson nodded.

Rufus interrupted, “Uncle Sam’s all about antitrust laws…. But I bet Conasauga could handle some healthy competition, right? Mr. Regional Director of Business Development?”

“Um, maybe?”

“That’s not exactly inspiring,” Sam said.

“I mean, it’s not like there are a lot of people buying their own personal tactical vehicles. You’ve got to get those government contracts.”

“What are we talking here? If Evangeline and the colonel hadn’t died?”

Anson shrugged. “Probably the same thing that’s going to happen now. Mr. Jolly, he’s the president, he knows somepeople. But it’s going to be a lot harder.” He sat back, mouth turned down. “That’s why it was such a bummer this wasn’t a real networking event.”

Sam frowned. “You think Conasauga is going to go under?”

“I think I don’t want to stick around to find out. Look, man, I told you what I know. So, like—what do I do? Should I go to the police?” He looked ready to cry. “Is this, like, witness protection stuff?”

“Uh.” Sam couldn’t help it. “That’s probably a better question for the police.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about the police or law, because I’m just an innocent civilian,” Rufus began, “but between us…bro… get out of New York. Consider selling something less dangerous. Like used cars or lollipops. Ok?”

“Right,” Anson breathed. “Right. Get out of New York. Right.”

“Phone number,” Sam said, “in case we have more questions. And if you think of anything else, let us know. On LinkedIn.”

Anson tossed a business card onto the table and scuttled out of the pub.

“Jesus,” Sam said. “I’m surprised his underwear didn’t fly off.”