Chapter 41
WE HAUL THE WOUNDED thug out to the van, where we shove him
into the back cargo space along with Sissy’s body.
“What the f**k are you doing with dead body?” he begs. “Get
me away from dead body.”
While I’m standing outside the open cargo bay doors, Georgie
jumps inside, sets himself onto his knees to the right of Sissy’s black-bagged
body. He takes out his cell phone.
“Here you go, Alex,” he smiles, holding out the phone toward
the wounded Russian. “Why don’t you call the police and tell them what’s
happening.”
The thug coughs up a lugy, spits it in Georgie’s general
direction. The pathologist might be nearing his senior years, but he’s quick on
his feet. Or, in this case, his knees. He shifts his head out of the line of
fire as the thick wad of spit splats against
