The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [163]
“Let me guess—she fed you the whole orphan thing, then served up the chance-to-date-the-pretty-girl-you-were-afraid-to-ask-to-the-prom thing for dessert. Add that to all the running around, and suddenly you felt like your whole miserable life was coming alive. How’m I doing, Oliver? Starting to sound familiar?”
Still stuck on the floor, I trace the volume of his voice. He’s now one aisle over. I should run. But I don’t.
“What about her age?” Gallo adds. “What’d she tell you? Wait… let me guess… Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?” He pauses just enough to rub it in. “She’s thirty-four, Oliver. Does that break your heart, or just make you feel like a bigger sucker?”
Knowing the answer, I slowly climb back to my feet. I’m not sure where Gallo is. And I’m not even sure I care.
“And let’s not forget the name—Gillian… Gillian Duckworth—pretty good when you consider how quick they had to paste it all together. Of course, if she used Sherry, no one would’ve known the difference.”
Sherry?
At the front of the aisle, two cheap black shoes turn the corner and slow to a halt. I look down the row. Gallo stares straight at me. His gun’s up; mine sags at my side. Wearing his typical rat-faced grin, he shakes his head in one last machismo tease. But the whole time, he’s studying my face.
“You really never even had an inkling, did you, Oliver?”
I don’t answer.
“All this time, you thought you were flying first-class, and then the stewardess slaps you awake and tells you you’re strapped in with a kamikaze…”
As he reads my reaction, I stare down at the floor. It’s caked in dust. Just like her end table. Charlie said it all along.
“To be honest, I didn’t think they could pull it off,” Gallo adds. “But if you never met her before, I guess there’s no way you could’ve known she was his wife.”
I quickly pick my head up. “She was whose wife?” I blurt, finally breaking my silence.
Gallo smirks at the question. “Oh, c’mon, Oliver—use your brain for once—how do you think we got Duckworth’s program past Securi—”
Behind Gallo, there’s a deafening boom. Before I even squint, his chest explodes, spraying tiny flicks of blood up the aisle. I’m a good thirty feet away as the last few bits of blood spit across my face and shirt.
As I look up at Gallo, his eyes are wide open. His body teeters slightly—then slowly falls forward. He hits the ground with an unnerving thump, but my eyes stay glued straight up the aisle—just beyond Gallo. Gillian stares directly at me—her gun still pointed my way. I don’t know where she got it, but as she grips it with both hands, a twist of smoke curls from the barrel.
Lowering her gun, she glances down at the oozing wet hole she’s shot into Gallo’s back.
“Wh-What’re you—What the hell are you doing!?” I shout.
She’s still focused on Gallo—tracing the path of the bullet.
“Gilli—Sherry… whatever your name is—I’m talking to you!”
“Watch yourself,” she says, motioning to the body. “Don’t step in the blood.”
I look at her like she’s nuts. “What’re you talking about? What’s wrong with you?”
She points to the door that leads outside. “C’mon, Oliver, we should get out of here…”
“Don’t move!” I shout, taking my first step toward her. “Didn’t you hear what Gallo said? It’s over, Gillian—no more bullshit!”
Now she looks at me like I’m nuts. “Wait a minute…” she begins. “You don’t think—Don’t tell me you actually believed him. He was lying, Oliver.”
No. No more mindgames. “Tell me who you are,” I demand as I move toward her.
“Oliver…”
“Tell me who you are!”
She actually has the nerve to cough up an innocent laugh. “Don’t you see what he was trying to do—he just wanted to pit us against each other, so he cou—”
“Do I really look that gullible to you?”
“Oliver, it’s not about being gullible. Look who you’re listening to—the man was trying to kill us!”
As I charge up the aisle, her words bounce off. From the instant she said my real name, I should’ve swam the other way. That’s a mistake I made once. Not again. “Your name’s not Gillian. You’re not Duckworth’s daughter. And you certainly