Free The Rule of Nine by Steve Martini Page B

will get you nowhere.”
    â€œObviously,” she says. “Contrary to popular belief, they don’t kill all the lawyers, they just neuter them. That’s funny, they must have missed me,” she says.
    â€œYou’re a lawyer?”
    â€œI don’t practice any longer.”
    â€œThat’s good, because going around passing yourself off as an investigator with the state bar could probably get your ticket punched.”
    â€œI’m licensed in another state,” she says.
    â€œFor your sake I hope it’s the state of grace, because there’s a good chance you’re gonna find yourself up to your high heels in some serious doo-doo if you continue pursuing this line of inquiry.”
    â€œYou won’t say anything,” she says. “Not about what I told you. Not about our source.”
    â€œWhy not? If I’ve been as emasculated as you suspect, maybe there’s something I want that they can give me in return.”
    â€œLike what? Courage?” She’s up out of her chair. “You’re no lion and this ain’t no yellow brick road. Just the same, you won’t tell them.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure?”
    â€œBecause refusing to help me is not the same as helping them. And you know as well as I do that they can’t be trusted.”
    â€œAnd I thought I was a skeptic.”
    â€œEvery government in the world thinks it owns the cartel on virtue,” she says. “Of course, none of them would use the bomb. Those that have it would love to get rid of it, but they can’t. They need it to keep other less noble and more warlike pricks from using it on them. And the angels who don’t have it would never pursue it, unless of course they have an excess of spent fuel rods that need to be put to some useful purpose, wasted resources being a terrible sin. In the meantime, bombs like the one on your truck have become war surplus, like old canteens and frayed fatigue jackets. I used to ask how long before some nutcase on a crusade got his hands on one. Now I guess I’m gonna have to come up with a new question, because we both know the answer to that one, don’t we?”
    I don’t answer.
    â€œHave it your way.” She slings the briefcase over her shoulder, stands up, and heads for the door. As she gets there, hand on the knob, she stops to look at me one more time. “You’re a hard sell,” she says. “You’re sure there’s no way I can persuade you? Make no mistake. It’s a watershed event. News of this would flash around the world before you could blink. It would force people to wake up. It would produce a backlash that those in power would not be able to ignore. Right now they’re asleep. What is it going to take to get their attention? Do you have any idea how many people would have died if that device had detonated? This office probably wouldn’t be here,” she says. “And we must be at least two miles away.”
    â€œYou know a lot. It was nice meeting you. And thanks for the stage direction. I’ll try to keep the dogs from humping my leg.”
    She smiles. “You do that.”
    â€œOne piece of advice. I’d stay away from Mr. Diggs. He’s not as understanding as I am.”
    â€œIs that right?”
    â€œYes. If you try to lie your way into his office, he won’t have anydifficulty at all ginning up anger. And as for his body language, you may find yourself suspended by your panty hose from the flag-pole in front of his office.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œReally.”
    â€œI’ll be sure to wear pants,” she says. “I’m pretty good at it.”
    I make a mental note to call Herman and warn him.

TEN
    D ad, what is your problem? I’m just going out with a friend for the evening. I’m not running away. Though the thought has occurred to me.” Sarah stands near the foot of the stairs in the entryway, her arms