Vess tapped the joystick upward, eyes never leaving the screen. “Y’know why I love this game? You move the frog and go home. That’s it. One simple objective. Don’t you wish life was as clear as that?”
“Mr. Vess, I want to know about—”
“Archie Mint,” Vess said.
Nola froze. There was a loud plink as Frogger leaped into one of his frog homes at the top of the screen. Vess was still in profile, his shoulders back, no fear at all.
“Colonel Mint,” Nola corrected, feeling the gun in her hand, her finger sliding toward the trigger.
“Oh, c’mon—I knew that’d be your first question,” Vess said, his fist tightening around the joystick. “I told you from the start, I’m on your side. Archie Mint may’ve loved playing the golden boy, but don’t you wanna know what he was doing in private?”
81
“Lower the gun,” Vess insisted. “I told you, I want the same thing you—”
Pulling back the slide and cocking the gun, Nola aimed it at Vess’s foot and pulled the trigger.
A tiny black hole appeared near the big toe of Vess’s shoe. A crimson puddle bubbled up, then disappeared, like a broken water fountain. It took half a second before he realized it was his blood and screamed out in pain. “My toe! You shot my toe!” he exploded, hopping backward and holding the Frogger machine for balance. “Are you outta your fuckin—！?”
She pointed the gun at his leg. “I’m gonna shoot you in the calf next, then work my way to your femur. I broke my femur before. You won’t like it,” she said. “Your pain is now in your hands. Tell me what you know about Colonel Mint.”
“D’you understand what I’m gonna do to you for—？”
Nola aimed at his calf and pulled the trigger.
Vess felt a needle prick, a bite of electricity. Instinctively, he swatted at his calf, but was already off balance, falling sideways and crashing to the floor.
“GHAAAAH! What in the hell is—？ Why would you do that!” He clenched his teeth, pulling off his leather belt to make a makeshift tourniquet. He’d been shot before, or saw a few too many war movies. “Christ Almighty, that HURTS!” he shouted, his face already going pale. “Why would you—？ I said I was on your side!”
“I want to know about Colonel Mint.”
“What do you think I was trying t—！?”
She pointed the gun at his thigh, her finger on the trigger.
“Stop! Stop! Just listen . . . Zion . . . He . . . he . . . he—”
“I know Zion pulled the trigger on Mint. I also know Zion worked for you—he sold drugs for you. You’re a street boss, maybe a state boss if you’re lucky. That’s correct, yes? He was your employee?”
Vess nodded over and over, his eyes starting to flood with tears. Snot ran from his nose. His leprechaun smile was gone. “My leg . . . I need a doctor.”
“Mr. Vess, look at me. Are you looking? I need you to think carefully about your next words. When Zion killed Mint—did you give Zion that order?”
“I swear on my life . . . on my daughter’s life . . . Zion’s a dreamer, all hustle. A little spic CEO. Sold Molly and K2 like they were Tickle Me Elmos on Christmas. That’s why I brought him on . . . But with Mint . . . my hand to God, Zion was freelancing—and he knew, I don’t stand for freelancing.”
“So you called the Reds.”
“You think I had a choice!? He killed a local military hero—that’s like . . . it’s like putting a bullet in the head of the mayor. Y’know how many eyes that brings toward Zion . . . toward my business? That’s why I told you . . . I-I’m on your side . . . whoever hired Zion to kill Mint . . . I want to find them just as much as you do.”