The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [47]
“Please just put the gun down…” I plead.
“Don’t fall for it,” Shep says. “They’re Secret Service, not hitmen. They’re not gonna kill anyone.” Turning to the blond agent by the door, he adds, “Isn’t that right, DeSanctis? We all know the protocol.”
Gallo looks back at DeSanctis, who gives him one of those imperceptible nods I usually save only for my brother. I know the look of that one. Storm clouds brewing. There’s more riding on this than just some lost cash.
Without a word, Gallo pulls back the hammer of his gun.
“C’mon, Jim,” Shep laughs. “The joke’s over…”
But as we all quickly realize, Gallo isn’t laughing. He tightens his grip, and his finger slithers across the trigger. “I’m waiting, Oliver.”
Frozen in place, I feel like someone’s standing on my chest. I can barely breathe. If I stay quiet, he pulls the trigger. But like Shep said… if I give up the cash, we lose our only chit. Big deal—it’s better than gambling with our lives.
“Tell him!” Charlie shouts.
“Don’t say it!” Shep warns. Turning back to Gallo, he adds, “Can we stop with this already? I mean, you’ve already caught us—what else are you hoping to—”
The two men stand face-to-face, and Gallo lets out the slightest of smirks.
Shep’s expression falls. He’s paste white. Like he just saw a ghost. Or a thief. “You want the money for yourself, don’t you?” he stutters.
Gallo doesn’t answer. He just steadies his aim.
“Don’t do it!” I plead. “I’ll tell you where it is!”
“So the big dollars were yours?” Shep asks. “Who brought you in? Lapidus? Quincy?”
The answer never comes. Gallo licks his lips. “Goodbye, Shep.”
“Jimmy, please…” Shep begs as his voice cracks and shatters. “You d-d-d…” He can’t get the words out. As big as he is, his whole body’s shaking. His eyes flood with tears. “Not in the h-hea…”
“No…!”Charlie cries.
Gallo doesn’t flinch. He just pulls the trigger.
13
Please don’t…!”I yell.
It’s too late. The shot hisses like a dart from a blowgun. Then another. And another. All three explode in Shep’s chest, sending him crashing back into the concrete wall. He grabs at the wounds, but the blood’s already everywhere. It covers his hands and bubbles up from his mouth. He tries to breathe, but all that comes out is an empty, wet wheeze. Still, he’s on his feet… staring back at Gallo… at all of us… with a dead man’s gray eyes. They’re wide with fear—like a child who knows he’s hurt, but hasn’t yet decided to cry. He staggers, trying to take a step forward… struggling to keep his… c’mon, Shep… you can make it…
Gallo raises his gun again, but quickly realizes he doesn’t have to.
Unable to hold his own weight, Shep’s legs buckle, and like a giant oak, the big man falls forward, straight for the creaky wooden slats in the floor. But just as he hits—as the thud thunders through the tunnel—the wood shakes, but somehow, it holds.
“Shep!”Charlie screams, racing out and sliding knees-first next to Shep’s facedown body. “Are you okay? Please, buddy… please be okay!” Squinting through a rush of tears, Charlie nudges the back of Shep’s shoulder, searching for a reaction. Nothing—not even a twitch. “C’mon, Shep… I know you’re there—please be there!” Ignoring the puddle of blood that’s seeping out below Shep, Charlie shoves his hands under Shep’s shoulder and waist, and tries to flip him on his back.
“Charlie, don’t touch him!” I shout.
“Both of you—nobody move!” Gallo barks.
Charlie abruptly lets go, and Shep’s body sinks face-first, back to the ground. The pool of blood is already seeping between the grooves in the wood planks. I look away and gag from the tinge of pre-vomit in my throat. That’s when I spot the hypodermic needle right next to Shep’s head. Charlie spots it too. His eyes are wide. He sees it as a break; I see it as a dumb way to get himself killed.
Don’t do it, I warn with a glance.
Charlie doesn’t care. Right there, a surge of adrenaline turns anguish to blood lust. He goes to grab it and…
“I said, don’t move!” Gallo explodes, rushing in behind him. There’s a quiet click and Charlie looks over his shoulder.