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A big man slowly rose out of the boat’s cockpit, his hands not raised, but both holding the upper edge of the windshield. In plain sight.
She fingered the control. One 30 mm round through the center of his chest. So close. So easy.
“Don’t do it,” Tim’s voice was barely audible over the intercom.
Lola didn’t answer. Her finger actually ached from her desire to end it. Screw the information. Screw the chemical. It didn’t matter if she hit the payload and was caught in the resulting cloud of Soman. At least he’d be dead. Once and for all.
“Don’t,” Tim’s voice was gentle. As gentle as when they made love. “You’re better than that, Lola. We’d cover for you. No question. But he’s not worth it. You’re better than that.”
She knew there was no need for anyone to cover for her. She’d seen t
