THE THREE musketeers shared a limousine ride home, courtesy of MI5. Amy was in her atypical H&M off-the-rack ersatz-dress, Tom had his arm in a sling, and Paul carried his recovered prosthesis in a plastic bag. McAllister had taken a photo before they vanished in the limousine because the scene was so bizarre. "For the ages and winter evenings."
"We missed our self-organized wake," Amy whispered while the limousine glided west through the empty streets of nighttime London.
"As long as we didn't have to attend our own one," Tom said. He turned to Paul, who was facing both of them. "That was amazing and scary, boss. Thank you. Without you...." He didn't need to finish.
Paul just nodded. "I am still a bit shell-shocked. I think. Or I am such a cold fish that I simply do not have any empathy anymore."
"Paul, you killed five people within four minutes. You are supposed to be shell-shocked after that," Amy remarked. "It just shows that you have empathy, bad guys or not. And you came running for Tomtom and me!"
Paul smiled. "Yeah, that was the second thing that came into my mind right after the shooting on the street."
"And what was the first one?"
"Oh, purely tactical: anyone else to kill?"
"You scare me, boss," Amy said.
"I am scared of myself, Amy," Paul replied.
"Mr. Trouble, we are here," the driver said through the partition pigeonhole. They had arrived at Queensborough Terrace.
"Are you okay on your own, Paul?" Amy asked.
"Mother Hen, I am good. See you tomorrow," Paul smiled, not meaning it.
Amy was too tired to argue. Paul just waved with his good arm, sending the plastic shopping back with the bad arm dancing.
YOU ARE READING
Troubleshooter
Mystery / ThrillerAll he wanted was a regular job... Paul Trouble may not hold the most exciting job in the world as a pencil pusher and finance controller in Strom Industries' Mergers and Acquisitions department. But for the former elite soldier and CIA spy, still m...
