Kill Decision(117)
Odin stepped between them. “Who are these PR firms that hire you?”
“Big. Owned by D.C. law firms. Powerful. Jacked into everything—all the data moving through society. Cell phone geolocation. Purchase records. E-mail, IM, social networks. They’re mining it all in real time to find opposition to their clients’ interests. To spot trouble and opportunities. If someone’s talking about something they’re interested in—they know about it. And they can change the public conversation if necessary, modify public perceptions—rewrite reality in real time. It’s impressive. They could make Mother Teresa into the devil and Adolf Hitler into Saint Francis of Assisi if they wanted to.”
McKinney stared at him with utter contempt.
He started making another drink. “Don’t hate the playa, Professor. Hate the game. At least I’m not a bottom-feeder like the data cosmeticians and trash consultants—monitoring celebrity effluent to tell a consistent ‘brand story.’ Everything the public sees is managed. If there’s a valuable brand to protect—whether it’s a person or a dish soap—these fuckers are out there protecting it, shaping the narrative. I mean . . . who the hell follows dish soap on Twitter? How does anyone believe that shit’s real?”
Just then McKinney noticed one of Odin’s ravens alight upon the balcony railing beyond the glass. It looked agitated, cawing silently beyond the double-insulated panes and hopping along the metal railing in alarm.
Odin stopped cold, and then turned to Evans. “You never disappoint, do you?”
Evans looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Odin pulled the pistol again. “You sent out a distress signal.”
“What are you talking about?”
Odin grabbed him by the collar and pulled him completely over the bar, sending barstools scattering as Evans landed on the floor with a thud. “When did you make the call, Morty? When!” Odin ground his knee into the back of the guy’s neck, pinning his face to the wooden floor.
“Ahhh! Fuck! I didn’t! Odin!”
McKinney shouted, “Odin, for godsakes—”
“Who did you call, Morty?”
After a moment of gasping, Evans held up a hand in submission. “My handler. Back at the office—when you broke in. I own the building. I get an alert when my floor button is pressed. I recognized you on the elevator camera—beard or no beard. For chrissake, Odin, we spent a year and a half in the asshole of the world—you think you’re not burned into my memory? I should have taken the jail time.”
Odin cast a see-I-told-you-so look at McKinney, then slammed Evans into the floor again. “You’re about to find out why that was stupid.”
McKinney could see that the raven had flown off. “Enough! Whatever it is, it’s going to be here momentarily.”
Odin got up and pulled Evans to his feet. “Where’s your escape route?” He reached around behind the bar and opened drawers until he came up with a nickel-plated Colt .45. “I see you didn’t have the balls to try and cap us yourself. Who are they sending?”
He nodded at the gun. “That’s for personal protection.”
Odin checked to see that it was loaded and set the safety. He handed it to McKinney. “Here. If he tries anything, shoot him.”
McKinney took the gun but shook her head. “I’m not killing anyone.”
“Do you know how to use a pistol?”
She nodded. “Yes, I had a boyfriend who was a cop. He taught—”
“Christ, how many guys have you dated?”
“Oh, you’re going to turn this into a double-standard debate now?”
He held up his hands. “Forget it.”
Evans looked at them both. “What’s the deal with you two? Are you actually a couple?”
Odin grabbed Evans by the shoulder again. “Back exit. Where is it?”
“What do you mean, back exit? What am I, Pablo Escobar? It’s a Florida condo. Look, I can make a call. I can. I promise. I’ll call off the hit. I swear.”
Odin was looking around for anything useful. “You don’t seem to understand, Morty. They’re not going to reward you for turning us in. You know too much now.”
“Oh, come on.”
McKinney stepped between them. “How long do you think we’ve got?”
Odin paced. “Special Operations Command is here in Tampa. These people might have anticipated I’d go there looking for help—which is why I avoided it. But it also means they probably have assets close by.”
Just then Evans’s eyes grew wide as shadows appeared around the window. “What the hell is that?”