The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer [153]
This time, though, it was Palmiotti who wasn’t letting go. He felt the throbbing at the wound in his neck. He could feel himself getting light-headed. He didn’t care. Cocking his arm back, he hit her again. And…
There was a loud click behind him.
“That’s enough,” a familiar voice announced.
Palmiotti turned, glancing over his shoulder. “Go away. This isn’t your problem anymore.”
“You are so incredibly wrong about that,” Beecher warned, aiming his gun straight at Palmiotti. “Let go of her now, and put your hands in the air.”
112
You’re done—you’re both done,” I warn Palmiotti.
“She still has her gun!” he insists, pointing back at Clementine.
I look down to check for myself. The brown water is almost to my knees, though it looks like it gets deeper as it snakes down the length of the cavern and winds into the darkness like the River Styx. This isn’t some small puddle. It’s a man-made lake.
In the darkness, it’s near impossible to see anything but a glassy reflection off the surface. But there’s no missing Clementine. Or the way, as she wipes her mouth and backs away from us on her knees, she keeps her other hand conspicuously below the water.
“He hit me, Beecher,” she pleads, still slowly moving backward. “I swallowed my tooth—he knocked it down my—”
I point my gun at her and pull the trigger.
The barrel booms with a thunderclap that reverberates through the cavern. From the back of the cave, a speedy red bird—the chirping I heard before—zips out, flies in a few wild circles, and disappears again.
“Gah!” Clementine screams as the bullet slices her thigh, sending bits of skin and flesh flicking across the water. Palmiotti’s already injured. Whatever else happens, I’m not letting either of them—and especially her—get away.
At first she looks mad, but as she falls back on her ass and tucks her knee toward her chin, her eyebrows quickly unknot and her eyes go round and weepy. “H-How could you…? You shot me…” she moans.
“What you said about my father—is it true?” I ask.
“Beecher… the documents they’re hiding—there’s even more in that file. And if we have that, it’s not just our word against theirs—”
“IS IT TRUE!?” I explode.
The cave is silent, except for the red bird cheeping in the distance. “Th-That’s what my mother told me. I swear to you—on her dead body. But if I don’t get out of here—”
“No. Do not do that,” I warn her. “Do not manipulate me. Do not try to get away. I’ve seen that show already—I know how it ends.”
“Make her raise her hands!” Palmiotti shouts, stumbling back a few steps and leaning against the cave wall. I didn’t notice it until now—all that red on his shoulder… the way he’s holding his neck. He’s been shot again.
“Don’t let Palmiotti twist you,” Clementine warns, ignoring her own pain and fighting to stay calm. I can see the wet file folder sticking up from behind her back, where she tucked it in her pants. “Even with everything I did—you know I’d never hurt you. And before… I-I saved you.”
“You need to shoot her!” Palmiotti insists. “She’s got her gun under the water!”
“Clementine, raise your hands,” I insist.
She shifts her weight, raising both hands, then lowering them back in the water, which, from the way she’s sitting, comes just above her waist.
“She kept the gun in her lap!” Palmiotti adds. “She still has it!” “I don’t have anything!” she shouts.
I don’t believe either of them. And even if her gun is still in her lap, I don’t know if a gun can work once it’s underwater. But the one thing I do know is I need to see for myself.
“Clementine, get up! Stand up,” I tell her.
“I can’t.”
“Whattya mean you can’t?”
“You shot me, Beecher. In the leg. I can’t stand,” she explains, pointing to her leg that’s bent.
“The bullshit is just never-ending!” Palmiotti says. “If you don’t shoot her, she’s going to—!”
“Dr. Palmiotti, stop talking!