"Mad?"
"That I didn't follow Rashid's car. That I stayed with the missile, guided it down."
A pause. "That scenario wasn't authorized, targeting Rashid's vehicle."
"Fuck authorized. You're thinking I should've let the Hellfire land where it would, while I locked on and fired my second bird at the car."
His eyes revealed that, yes, that's exactly what Metzger had wanted.
"Barry, this is a messy business we're in. There's collateral, there's friendly fire, there're suicides and just plain fucking mistakes. People die because we program in One Hundred West Main Street and the task is actually at One Hundred East."
"Interesting choice of word for a human being, isn't it? 'Task.'"
"Oh, come on. It's easy to make fun of government-speak. But it's the government that keeps us safe from people like Rashid."
"That'll be a nice line for the Congressional hearings, Shreve." Shales then raged, "You fucked with the evidence for the Moreno STO to take out an asshole you didn't like. Who wasn't patriotic enough for you."
"That's not how it was!" Metzger nearly screamed, spittle flew.
Startled by the uncontrolled outburst, Shales stared at his boss for a moment. Then dug into his pocket and tossed his lanyard and ID card onto the desk. "Kids, Shreve. I nearly blew up two children today. I've had it. I'm quitting."
"No." Metzger leaned forward. "You can't quit."
"Why not?"
Shales was expecting his boss to raise issues of contracts, security.
But the man said, "Because you're the best, Barry. Nobody can handle a bird like you. Nobody can shoot like you. I knew you were the man for the STO program when I conceived it, Barry."
Shales recalled a grinning car salesman who'd used his first name repeatedly because, apparently, he'd been taught at grinning-car-salesman school that this wore down the potential buyer, made him less resistant.
Shales had left the lot without the car he'd very much wanted.
He now shouted, "The project was all about eliminating collateral damage!"
"We didn't run a scenario of firing through picture windows! We should have. It didn't occur to anyone. Did it occur to you? We got it wrong. What more do you want me to say? I apologize."
"To me? Maybe you should apologize to Robert Moreno's wife and children or the family of de la Rua, the reporter, or his bodyguard. They need an apology more than I do, don't you think, Shreve?"
Metzger pushed the ID back toward Shales. "This's been tough for you. Take some time off."
Leaving the badge untouched, Shales turned and opened the door, walking out of the office. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Ruth."
She only stared.
In five minutes he was outside the front gate of NIOS and walking through the alley to the main north-south street nearby.
Then he was on the sidewalk, feeling suddenly light of step and aglow with ambiguous satisfaction.
He'd call the sitter, take Margaret to dinner that night. He'd break the news to her that he was now unemployed. He could--
A dark sedan squealed to a stop beside him. Two men flung doors open and were outside in an instant, moving toward him.
For a moment Shales wondered if Shreve Metzger had called in specialists--had arranged for an STO with the name Barry Shales as the task, to eliminate him as a threat to his precious assassination program.
But the men moving toward him didn't pull out suppressed Berettas or SIGs. The palms of their hands glinted with metal, yes--but they were gold. New York City Police Department shields.
"Barry Shales?" the older of the two asked.