Chapter 34SOLDIERS HERDED the handcuffed prisoners toward the bus. Policemen clustered by the door. Jim Shaw joined the soldiers, gun in hand. He grabbed the man suspected of shooting Steve Sullivan and slammed him against the locker. Jim pressed his forearm across his captive's throat. Looking in the black, mirthless eyes, Jim asked, “Why did you shoot him?”
A cynical grin faced him. “He was in the way of the bullet.”
The president jumped at the pop, the crash of breaking glass, and the noise of a scuffle. Down the dark hallway, leaning against the lockers and surrounded by pointed guns, Jim Shaw waited quietly, expecting to be arrested. A body lay on the floor, a dark puddle forming. The president walked to him, frowned, and faced him. He looked at the men holding Jim and at the splatt
