Chapter Sixteen
The chemical spill.
I stopped but didn’t return to the man. I wanted Stoyanov to see me by the door, mere inches from leaving him to hang, naked and exposed to my shadowy threats.
“Yes?” I said, over my shoulder.
“Okay, man. I got the Beryllium s**t. But it wasn’t for me!”
“Where did you get it?” I asked. There were only a few options; I just needed him to confirm my suspicions.
“Parkington Industrial,” he said, sounding broken. “We have some stuff there.”
“The Chemical Plant?”
“Yeah. Man … but … but … Ashburn was the one who told me to do it.”
“Ashburn? He told you to get the stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit,” I said, making sure Stoyanov saw me take out my phone again. “No, it’s true. I swear!”
“Why are you lying?”
“I swear,” he said, his voice pleading, his eyes te
