Lara looked up from the phone’s screen to his face. And saw confusion, fear, and distrust. “We’re the good guys,” she said softly. Looking back at the phone she told her contact “We’ll call right back.” Then coughed, roughly, as her hand closed the phone.
“I’m sorry. Just cause you spilled some coffee on me shouldn’t get you shot at.” Jamie stared at her, unable to blink or move in any other way, and didn’t answer. In the midst of the morass inside his mind the comment “No, no it shouldn’t” surfaced for a moment. Followed by a hailstorm of “I was shot at! Why was I shot at? Who was shooting? I was shot at!!! Lara is so hot. Are the gunmen coming back? Why was I shot at?” and the like, though none could penetrate his paralysis. He noticed that blood was still leaking out of her stomach.
“You must be wondering what just happened. I work for…the government, the American government. Those men want something I have in my purse.” She had to stop talking and gasp for breath. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small metal box. “Open it” she asked.
He popped it open to see, what else?, a computer chip. Looking at it closely, turning it, nothing special to quick visual inspection. Maybe two inches on a side, quarter of an inch thick, unmarked black plastic, a few dozen pinouts. But the simple activity jarred him loose.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He realized he was still holding a napkin and reached over to press it against the wound. She gave him a weak smile. “Why didn’t those guys get out of the car and come after us?”
BillSaysThis 