fighting for. You know this! You know they’ve forgotten. They make movies about the day the towers fell, in the name of Christ!
“We have to send a wake-up call!” Jamieson is warming to his words, more confident, defiant before Bell. “We have to bring this country back together, we have to reunite, focus ourselves on our common foe! This is the
Bell nods. Then he puts his hand over the old man’s mouth, and shoots him in the knee. The scream is muffled, dies against his glove, and Bell keeps his hand there for almost thirty seconds longer, watching as Jamieson’s eyes go from wide to half lidded before releasing his hold.
“Give me the name of the man you paid,” Bell says. “Or I shoot you in the other leg.”
“You fucking son of a whore,” the old man gasps.
Bell raises the pistol, sighting the other leg.
Jamieson’s hands fly out, tears of pain shining in the night of the room. “He tried to keep it from me, he tried to keep it all anonymous! But I was careful, I was…I was careful, I did a lot of checking before we moved the money. I don’t know if it’s a real name, I don’t, but it’s the name I found. He’s some Uzbek bastard, lives in Tashkent.”
“Name.”
“Tohir! Vosil Tohir!”
Bell moves a hand to his ear. “Get that?”
“Got it,” Ruiz says. “Finish and go home.”
“You go after him,” Jamieson says. “You go after him, you let him know it’s from me. Son of a bitch double- crossed me, tried to take me for a billion dollars. You go after him, you tell him you came from me.”
“I don’t work for you,” Bell says, and shoots the man twice in the head.
He and Chain leave as silently as they arrived.
By the time they’re wheels-down and have their gear stowed, Ruiz is ready to brief them for Tashkent.
