The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

"Yes, sir."

Ten seconds later, Sergeant Mullroney was lying absolutely motionless on his back. Lieutenant Lorimer was squatting at his head, pulling Mullroney's chin back with one hand, and holding the eight-inch blade of a knife against his throat with the other.

"Permission to speak, sir?" Lieutenant Lorimer said.

"Granted."

"Let me toss him down the mountain, sir."

"I don't want to kill him unless I have to," Castillo said.

"Just let him get busted up a little, sir," Lorimer argued. "Break an ankle, a leg, an arm."

"How would we explain his accident?" Castillo asked reasonably.

"Well, everybody knows he's a boozer. I'll call Captain Timmons and tell him he got drunk, was wandering around the mountain and fell off."

"Is that a credible scenario?"

"Yes, sir, I think so. Who are they going believe? The family drunk, or you and me?"

"The problem with that is they would just send somebody else to snoop on us," Castillo said.

"That's true, sir," Lorimer acknowledged. "But we could deal with that situation as it came up. And we could probably be long gone before they could send someone else."

"True. Okay. Sergeant Mullroney, you have ten seconds to tell me why I should not permit Lieutenant Lorimer to throw you down the mountain."

"You people are out of your fucking minds!" Sergeant Mullroney said.

"Possibly," Castillo said. "But I don't see that as a reason not to send you down the mountain. Five seconds."

"I'm a cop, for Christ sake! You can't get away with this!"

"Time's up," Castillo said. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

"What we're going to do now," Lieutenant Lorimer said, touching the tip of the knife blade to the throat to discourage any sudden movement, "is very slowly get to our feet…"

"Jesus, what the fuck do you want from me? You don't want me to call Chicago? All right, I won't call Chicago. I swear to God! I swear on my mother's grave I'll never call Chicago! Jesus Christ! Please! I've got a wife-Junior's sister-and kids…"

"He doesn't get the picture, does he, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir. It would appear he doesn't have a clue."

"Explain it to him, please."

"Yes, sir. Asshole, we don't care if you call Chicago every hour on the hour. But what we can't have is you running at the mouth to somebody else who'll run at the mouth and blow this operation and get people-including my pal Byron-killed."

"I wouldn't do that," Sergeant Mullroney said, more than a little righteously. "Junior's my brother-in-law, for Christ's sake. My wife's brother."

"I've always wondered what a brother-in-law was," Castillo said. "Thank you for clearing that up for me."

"What?" Mullroney asked, visibly confused.

"Have you anything else you want to say to us?" Castillo asked.

"What the fuck do I have to say to make you understand I'd never do anything to hurt Junior?"

"Byron told me he told you not to call him 'Junior' and you wouldn't stop until he knocked you on your ass," Lorimer said. "And we have a similar situation here, wouldn't you say, Colonel?"