The few other patrons in the deli, mostly older folks, sat frozen in their chairs at the sudden violence.
Michelle looked at them and said, “Little misunderstanding. Someone will be in to get him shortly. Just return to your meals and, what the hell, order some dessert.” She pointed at the fallen man. “It’s on him.” She turned back to Sean and hissed, “I suggest we get out of here before a strike team interrupts our coffee.”
He threw some cash down on the table for the meal and said, “If he is a Fed we are in deep shit.”
“Look, he never flashed a badge. For all we knew he was going for his gun.” She edged his jacket open with the toe of her boot and the weapon was revealed.
“But still,” said Sean.
“Cross that bridge when we get to it. Personally, I’m a little tired of being pushed around by the badge-and-baton community. And patience has never been my virtue.”
“How is it that you actually passed the Secret Service entry psychological exam?”
“Easy. Lots of Diet Coke and a ton of chocolate.”
They left the deli by the rear door, circled around, and spied another car with another man in it. Michelle edged into her truck from the passenger side followed by Sean. She fired it up and had backed out before the driver in the sedan could react.
As Sean looked in the side mirror he said, “Driver doesn’t know what to do. Follow us or, okay, there he goes inside to check out what happened to his buddy.”
Michelle hit the road and sped up. The car didn’t follow them.
He said, “Two minutes from now there’ll be a BOLO out on us for attacking a Fed.”
“If he is a Fed.”
“Come on, the guy was screaming it.”
“Do we ditch these wheels and get another?”
“They’ll have markers in the system in five minutes. Our credit cards and driver’s licenses will pop up.”
“Then call Murdock, tell him what happened.”
“Are you out of your—” Sean’s face froze. “That is actually a brilliant idea.”
“Thank you. Cut him off at the pass and tell him some armed guy came at us. Wanted to warn him that something was up. When he says why the hell did we attack a Fed, we can plead ignorance.”
Sean was already punching in the number. He spent two minutes on the phone and did not let the FBI agent get a word in edgewise until the end. But whatever Murdock said did not sit well with Sean, by the look on his face.
“Yeah, I can give you a description. And the plate number.” He did so. He talked a bit more, answered two more questions and clicked off.
“Unless he’s a world-class liar, Murdock knew nothing about it.”
“Then the guy is not FBI?”
“So it’s another alphabet agency.”
“What about the BOLO?”
“CIA doesn’t use them. They go systemwide, the spooks have to explain stuff to the cops they don’t like to explain.”
Sean’s phone chirped and he looked at the text. Smiling, he looked over at Michelle. “Want some really good news?”
“That would be a really big yes.”
“This text is from my friendly local prosecutor. The kill round on Hilary Cunningham did not match your weapon.”
“Then I didn’t shoot her?” The relief on Michelle’s face was overwhelming.