Page 82 of Sting
She whispered, “See? He’s keeping his word.”
“Not to me he isn’t.”
“But—”
“Ms. Bennett?” the agent called.
Shaw nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t say anything until you hit him with the spotlight.”
Jordie looked at Shaw with misgiving. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“Hit him with the spotlight.”
“So you can see to shoot him?”
“I could already have shot him, and if I’d fired, he’d be dead. Now shine the light on him.”
Still uncertain, she picked up the spotlight, turned it on, and pointed it toward the agent, who blinked against the bright beam but didn’t recoil from it.
“That your guy?” Shaw asked her.
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. Answer him.”
She cleared her throat. “Agent Wiley? I’m here.”
“You all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine. But Mr. Kinnard is seriously wounded.”
“How so?”
“I…I—”
Shaw said, “She stuck me in the gut.”
Joe Wiley took a moment to process that. “You’re bleeding out?”
“Not quickly. But I think my entrails are filling up with pus.”
“Then you’re out of options except to surrender peacefully.”
“Wrong. I could opt to kill you where you stand.”
“You do and it’s likely that you and Ms. Bennett would also be cut down.”
“At least I’d die trying.”
“It still amounts to a hopeless outcome.” Joe Wiley let that sink in. “Surrender, Mr. Kinnard. You’ll receive immediate medical attention. You have my word.”
During their exchange, Jordie had kept the spotlight trained on the federal agent, afraid of what either he or Shaw would do if she switched it off. She feared a hair-trigger reaction to the sudden darkness that could result in an eruption of catastrophic gunfire.
She looked at the small but menacing pistol still gripped in Shaw’s hand, then into his fever-glazed eyes. Please. She didn’t even speak the word. It was merely a beseeching movement of her lips, and it persuaded him.
