Page 114 of The Midnight Lock (Lincoln Rhyme 14)

Both of which mean that I’m fucked.

Slipping the pistol into her back pocket and picking up the Taser, she returns to where I’m sitting on the floor. The pain from the electric jolt remains.

The woman is large and formidable. Her gaze is focused and cold.

She looks me over clinically. “First. Anyone else?”

“Here? Tonight?” It’s never occurred to me to make a Visit with a partner. It’s an odd thought. “No.”

“Downstairs, anywhere?”

I repeat the word.

“Who’re you with?”

“With?”

She snaps: “Work for, your employer?”

“Nobody.”

The woman aims the Taser at my groin.

“Wait!”

“Who?”

“No one! Really. I swear.” The pain was astonishing. I don’t want it to happen again.

She considers. And after a moment she seems to decide to believe me.

“The agenda? Burglary? Rape?”

I remain mum.

Her look conveys impatience and I suppose there’s no point in being coy.

“It’s what I do. I break into homes.”

“Obviously. I asked why.”

There’s a question for you. “Because I need to.”

Picking up my brass knife, she studies it. Her unattractive, though magnetic, face is intrigued. She puts the knife down.

“Why here? Why me? Give me answers or you’re dead.”

“Because of who you are: Verum, the conspiracy poster.”

She blinks in utter shock. “You know that?”

I nod.

“And you came here to kill me.”

I debate and, after a moment, tell her the truth. “That’s right.”

Curiously, she smiles. She taps my wallet. “Your name, it’s unusual.”

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