Page 37 of Heston
“Not worried,” Heston clipped, his gaze hard on Bates. “Accidents happen.”
“He’s gonna throw me out of that chopper, ain’t he? Once he gets high enough.” Bates kicked one water-logged boot out like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. “I ain’t going! You can’t make me. You can’t do that! I have rights!”
“Said the man who planned to torture and drown my woman,” Heston growled.
My woman?“Shut up, Devon,” London snapped, secretly pleased Heston had publicly claimed her. “Decker isn’t anything like you. He’s a Vietnam vet, not a chicken-shit, gambling addict. Shit! Here I’m trying to make you feel better, when I should be the one throwing you out of that helo.” This guy was getting on her last nerve.
“N-Not… k-kill… Prez… Not… Adams,” the meth-head on the ground sputtered in a sing-songy voice. “Wrong, bitches. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.”
London turned toward Malloy as Heston took a knee beside their suddenly talkative prisoner. The girlish giggle coming out of Malloy’s throat was creepy.
“Can I get you to loosen his ropes?” Heston asked her.
“You bet.” She scrambled to obey, but before she could, Tom reached one long arm past her and snapped the tie between Malloy’s hands and feet loose that kept him on his belly. All tension went out of his restraints.
“Thanks,” she told Tom. “Guess those knots weren’t very tight, huh?”
“Just your basic slip knot, ma’am.”
Well, damn. These guys knew a few things she didn’t.Mental note to self: Learn how to tie all kinds of knots.
Malloy wiggled over onto his butt, stretched his arms, legs, and fingers. Then crossed his legs, stared at Heston, and started singing a disjointed version of the theme from some cop show in that same weird girly voice.
“Alex got a call from your boss earlier today,” Heston interrupted the nonsensical crap. “He wants Alex to accept President Adams’ offer to take the VP position. Said that’s the only way Alex will be able to keep Kelsey safe, by doing what he’s told from now on. Sound familiar? Will your boss be good for his word if Alex signs on with President Adams as your boss’s snitch?”
London knelt there transfixed and silent, recalling Heston’s conversation with Mark in the camper. ‘Alex will never do that. Not after what they did to Kelsey. Hell to the no.’This had to be what they’d been talking about. But what on Earth did Obermeyer want Alex to do if he agreed to become VP? Or was Hes talking about the as-yet unnamed Irishman who’d threatened to kill Kelsey? Who exactly was the boss?
Malloy blinked as if he’d finally noticed Heston. “Yup.” He popped that damned P like killing Kelsey was a joke. “Boss wants Stewart to be the next VP so he can bust the Senate’s hold on the arms race. A couple other things, too. Heh, heh, heh.”
“What arms race?” Heston asked patiently, his tone mostly neutral, just a titch inquisitive.
“You know. The. Arms. Rac-c-c-c-ce.” Malloy dragged the last word into a hiss.
“What the fuck?” Asher roared.
“‘The Vice President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided,’” Heston replied evenly. “United States Constitution Article 1, Section 3, clause 4. Look it up.”
“Your boss wants Alex to throw a congressional vote? On what, Malloy? Which House Resolution?” Tom asked, his voice as calmly calculating as Heston’s. Him using Malloy’s name was a smart move.
Malloy shrugged. “All I know is arms race and some bill that needs signing and some committee to… hmm…” He cupped his chin in one palm and rested that elbow on his knee as if he needed help holding his bobbing head still. “Something about the Taliban... Yada, yada… err… something about the Shah of Iran and... all the shit they wanna do over there... No. That’s not right. Geez. I get mixed up.” He shook his head then shrugged. “My head’s killing me. Thinking is hard, man. I don’t know, all right?”
Asher turned his back on the group and cursed, “You’ve got to be kidding me. This guy’s the world’s best sniper?”
London knew exactly how he felt.
“House Resolution thirty-seven,” Heston said quietly, “concerns Michael Keane’s nomination to become the next ambassador to Ireland. The vote’s divided. The Senate won’t approve him until the FBI completes their investigation. The House claims the GOP’s spreading propaganda and lies about an innocent man. Fact: Keane is accused of complicity with the current terrorist insurgency in northern Burkina Faso, West Africa. FBI believes he’s behind the uptick in gunrunners channeling stolen US Army weaponry through Ghana to Ansar ul Islam, the terrorist group behind the worst violence. If Alex accepts Adams’ offer, he’ll be the one casting the deciding vote on that resolution. Which makes Keane ambassador, but gets Kelsey killed if Alex doesn’t vote how Keane wants.”
“Where do you keep all this information?” Asher asked. “Sounds like you’re quoting straight out of an encyclopedia. You got a brain chip or something in your head I don’t know about?”
Heston tapped his temple again. “OCD, remember?”
“Not OCD, Agent Contreras,” Tom stated. “You have an eidetic memory. You can recall verbatim, images or written pages you’ve only seen once, right?”
Heston nodded.
“Impressive.”
“You guys are so screwed,” Malloy interrupted, sing-songing again, his hands clasped around his ankles, rocking back and forth like a kid on a sugar high. “Bitches, all of you. Americans are bitches. Ah ha, ha, ha!” He tipped his head back and grinned at the branches overhead. “Told ya so. Told ya so!”
