Page 67 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
“It happens sometimes.”
“I heard shots, and I was convinced you were dead?—”
“Why would you think that?”
“And now it’s ‘work’ and what? Are you going to execute this guy?”
“Of course I’m not going to execute him. Are you blind?”
“What?”
“What?”
“Percy—”
“Joe—”
“Percy…” A slightly worrying silence ensued.
Percy, like most people, did not like to get caught committing murder, and especially not by Joe, who he was trying very hard to impress. The killing of Nazis, it seemed, was forgivable. Not that Joe knew about the Catholic one, nor would he ever if Percy had his way. And evil bishops who were actively trying tomurder him were definitely all right—he’d discovered that much afterwards in the Cathedral. But how would Joe react to the slaughter of arguably innocent security guards?
Joe, meanwhile, was taking a moment to assess the confused, quiet, still-living men, the money being blown onto the carpet by the breeze from the missing window, the blood on the coffee table, the walls and the floor, and finally, Percy’s quizzical, increasingly bemused face. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
Percy’s heart smashed out a reality-shiftingba-boomas he realised his wellbeing was Joe’s only concern, and that he wasn’t in trouble at all. An adoring warmth settled over him, which kindled just as brightly in Joe’s fine features. “Always.”
“Okay.” Joe smiled bashfully. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thanks for coming,” Percy called as he turned.
“That’s all right.” Joe blushed, half glancing back.
“It was sweet,” Percy added.
Joe stepped towards the door. “It’s nothing. I’ll just go.”
“It was, though,” Percy insisted.
“Bye.”
Then, just as the door was closing, “Do you think you could take my suitcase with you?”
Joe rolled his eyes as he reentered the room, yet he took the suitcase, even if he did it with a huff.
Percy looked on happily. “Watch the… all that blood there.”
“Oh, I should watch the blood?” Joe replied. “I shouldn’t drag the suitcase through the blood?”
“I’m just mentioning it?—”
“I shouldn’t drag it up the hall to my hotel room?” Joe muttered, lifting the heavy case over the bodies. “Shouldn’t leave a trail of blood to my door?”
“You’ve made your point,” Percy drawled.
“Hurry up! We’ve got maybe six hours now. You’re givingme a lot of stress.” Joe slammed the door behind him and was gone.
Percy turned back to the others. “You heard the man. Morning Star, freeze.” Tareq’s bulging eyes cut across to him, Percy pulled the trigger, and Tareq let out a cry of shock and pain as the bullet grazed the very edge of his arm.
Percy moved the gun across. “Waleed, don’t move.”
