Page 6 of Nobody's Hero

‘So what?’ Cunningham said.

Koenig moved his seat so she could see his screen. ‘I haven’t sent my email yet. It’s still in my draft folder. If it doesn’t get sent, a bunch of people are going to get mad at me. Then they’re going toworryabout me. Then they’re going to look for me. And then they’re going to get mad atyou.’

The woman said, ‘So what?’ again.

‘These are not the kind of people you want to upset.’

‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘You think we should let you go. That we should walk away from the biggest payday we’ll ever have. That what you think?’

‘No. I think you should let me send my email.’

‘You think I’m an idiot? I’m not letting you write an email.’

‘Iknowyou’re an idiot,’ Koenig said. ‘I told you, it’s already done. I wrote it before you came in. I haven’t added to it since you sat beside me. It can’t possibly have anything incriminating in it. Not unless you think I’m psychic.Doyou think I’m psychic, Cunningham?’

Before she could reply, Koenig reached over and pressed enter. She jabbed the Colt into his ribs and twisted the barrel. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

‘See for yourself. I assume you can read.’

She turned the screen and found the email he’d sent. Her lips moved as she read it. Voicing, Koenig thought it was called. Had its roots in grade school when children were taught to read phonetically and out loud so the teacher could see they were saying the words right. Some kids never kicked the habit. Meant they could only read as fast as they could talk, around 150 words a minute. Cunningham was categorised as a slow reader.

And a slow thinker, as it turned out.

‘Why would you risk a bullet in the gut to send that?’ she said.

‘What does it say?’ Beetle-Brow asked.

‘Just some bullshit to a woman called Jen. Says, and I quote, “Everything fine. Just about to leave New York. Not telling you where I’m going next.”’

‘Riveting.’

‘Why would you risk a bullet to send that?’ Cunningham repeated.

‘Guess I don’t want anyone to worry about me,’ Koenig said.

‘And now they won’t. Perhaps you shouldn’t have sent it. If I were in your shoes, I’d be desperate for someone to worry about me.’

‘You plan to kill me? Claim the five million?’

‘Not us,’ she said. ‘We don’t do that. We have a buyer lined up. Our organisation gets fifty per cent of whatever he gets. Nice little payday, and even better, there’s one less asshole in the world.’

‘Why? Is he killing you as well?’

‘You have a smart mouth. Wonder if it’ll still be smart when our guy’s peeling your skin off.’

‘That’s not in the contract.’

‘It isn’t,’ she admitted. ‘He just likes doing things like that. And for two and a half million bucks, who are we to say no?’

‘Guess I made a mistake sending that email then,’ Koenig said.

‘Guess you did,’ she said. ‘Now, on your feet. If you make a fuss, I’ll pop one in your pelvis and my friend over there will drop the Incredible Hulk.’

‘She-Hulk,’ Koenig corrected.

‘Whatever. The point is she’ll be dead, you’ll have a bullet in your hip, and we’ll still get what we came for.’

‘I need to pay first. If I don’t, She-Hulk is going to call the cops. I’m guessing you don’t want that.’