Page 28 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

He winced. “Charming. Yes, that one. Did I mention she works for The Colonel? And so does her husband.”

She laughed, which made him scowl, which made her laugh harder. “Quite a life you lead, Din Chatti.”

He gave her a charmingly lopsided smile in return. “It’s far less boring than I ever imagined it might be.”

“He did not say who is coming because, you know, he’s The Colonel,” she replied.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She tensed. Dispensing information wasn’t her strong suit and there was little she could safely tell him.

“Why does everyone call him The Colonel when he’s a general now?”

She relaxed. “I can answer that one, or at least attempt to.” She’d spent a lot of boredom-fueled down hours debating the same with special teams she sometimes worked with. “The working theory is that he was a colonel when he began assembling his teams, hand selecting people from obscurity into the realms. And it sort of solidified something, you know? A sort of unity and code.You’ve been plucked by The Colonel.Voila, the name stuck for all eternity.”

“I see,” he said, squinting at her in a way that made her wonder if he did see, if he could understand that she, too, had been selected by The Colonel, saved from obscurity. “Also I see what you did there. Plucked by The Colonel. Nice.”

“The KFC jokes have been around for a while. They’re not going anywhere, probably another reason no one wants to call him The General. Plus, I don’t know.General. It’s so…above. Calling him The Colonel makes him still seem like one of us, not one of them.”

“Who is them?” he asked.

“Washington.” She whispered it in the same way someone might speak of The Boogeyman. As if he might hear and punish you. Knowing what she knew about the government, it wasn’t a far-fetched idea.

“So, not to belabor the point and make this all about me, but no one is coming here to kill me. Promise?”

She grasped his forearms in hers and looked earnestly into his eyes. “How about this. I promise you that if anyone is going to kill you, it will be me.”

“You are the cutest little murder monkey ever,” he said, giving her arms a squeeze.

“And you are…” her gaze slid to the side, distracted. “Bleeding.”

“Ha, but I don’t get it.”

“No, you’re seriously bleeding.” She let go of his arm and pointed to his shoulder.

He glanced down. “I guess that explains why the room is swimming in and out of focus. I thought it was the height differential between us making me woozy.” He sank heavily into a chair and rested his forehead on the table.

“Are you going to pass out again?”

“It’s under consideration,” he said. “Also, I should tell you I’m not great with the sight of blood.”

“Seriously, you are the worst terrorist I have ever known,” she said.

“Hey, do not disparage my terrorist skills. I have a lot of hidden assets,” he said.

“Like what?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“Maybe we could talk about this when I’m not bleeding out,” he said.

“Typical man,” she said, clucking her tongue.

“Celeste,” he whined. “Do something.”

She poked his good shoulder. “Stop bleeding.”

“Do something better.”

She uncrossed her arms so she could throw them in the air. “What do you want me to do? The town doesn’t have a doctor, much less a hospital.”

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