Conversation · Kortenaer

"These men, they didn't do it!"

"Yeah? Who did then?"

You should implicate yourself. Throw yourself onto the embrasure, chest first!

(Point to yourself) "It was me."

"No, wait!" The lieutenant winces and quickly turns to the mercenary leader. "He didn't."

He is tense, like a steel spring under full load.

"I did it because I'm a delusional washout cop who thinks he's a superstar. I just do shit."

"You think this is funny?" There's a dangerous gleam in his eye. "What if I just shot one of your pals here for fun, huh?"

"How about the kipt?" He points his gun at Elizabeth. "That'd be fucking funny..."

"Listen, please!" She raises both hands. "This cop and this drumhead court martial won't decide who..."

He's gonna do it, he's gonna shoot her!

Think! THINK! Why doesn't he believe me?

The Hardie boys confessed to hanging him. All. Together. Titus said: we took him out back and hanged him. He said it loud. In a public place.

"Wait! They didn't confess!"

"You're lying. De Paule heard it." He doesn't move the weapon.

A Kiejl Model 40 revolver. Eight rounds in the barrel. The gun slowly sways in his hand -- from the inebriation.

"You heard wrong!" The lieutenant shouts. "Your friend wasn't hanged. He was shot. We found a bullet in his head."

"The gardener isn't even one of them!"

"Fucking liars..." He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle of his gun.

The shot rings in your ears -- a low tinny ring. Then the Hardie boys yell something...

The young woman stands and looks behind her. The shot has flown over her head -- crashing a small pane of the glass window behind her.

"I missed." The man looks at his revolver and smiles.

Not true. He purposefully over-aimed and shot the window -- you had him second guessing himself. Only for a second. Do not assume he will miss the next time.

"I know what I heard, Korty!" The radio operator looks at him. "They said they killed him. They said it was a good way to end a Sunday night."

That doesn't sound good. You need to change the topic now. Or there will be another shot.

What TOPIC? Shots have been fired -- act before it's too late. This was a close call!

That's bad. You need to stop arguing, now. This won't be won by talking about the case -- they don't care.

"I know what I heard, Korty!" The radio operator points at Titus. "They said they hanged him. All of them together. They made it real clear."

"The hanging was only a cover up! Listen..."

"When they confessed they were lying."

"He wasn't hanged!" The lieutenant shouts. "He was shot! By someone in Martinaise. They're helping us find the shooter."

"Listen! He was shot! He wasn't hanged! Listen to me!"

"You're lying. De Paule heard it." He doesn't move the weapon.

A Kiejl Model 40 revolver. Eight rounds in the barrel. The gun slowly sways in his hand -- from the inebriation.

"You heard wrong!" The lieutenant shouts. "She -- and these men -- have been helping us find the shooter."

Your mind grinds to a halt. All you can see is the revolver in the man's armoured hand -- swaying, pointed at her. You move your mouth like a fish gasping for air...

"No, she wasn't even there!"

He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.

The shot rings in your ears -- a low tinny ring. Then the Hardie boys yell something...

"I'm okay... I'm okay..." The woman grabs her left side. She's down. Her white shirt soaks a blood red around her abdomen. She gasps for air.

She's not. She's bleeding out. If she doesn't get help in 10 minutes, she'll die.

"Fuck this..." The man starts pulling something out from his pocket.

There's a coarse shuffle against something -- is it a gun?

"Gene!" The big man raises his hand. "Tend to Lizzie -- NOW!"

He'll be ripped apart. They all will, the moment the third man opens fire. And he knows it.

He wants you to open fire on the mercenaries before he does. He's waiting for you and your partner to be the shield.

"I'll kill you!"

"Go ahead." He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.

"She's a woman -- don't..."

"Is she?" He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.

The shot rings in your ears -- a low tinny ring. Then the Hardie boys yell something...

"I'm okay... I'm okay..." The woman grabs her left side. She's down. Her white shirt soaks a blood red around her abdomen. She gasps for air.

She's not. She's bleeding out. If she doesn't get help in 10 minutes, she'll die.

"I can never tell with these Aboriginals..."

Say nothing. Just stand there.

He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.

The shot rings in your ears -- a low tinny ring. Then the Hardie boys yell something...

"I'm okay... I'm okay..." The woman staggers backward, crouches, then grabs her left side. Her white shirt soaks a blood red around her abdomen and she gasps for air.

She's not. She's bleeding out. In 20 minutes she'll be dead. Maybe 15.

"You got any more theories cop?" He turns to you. "We fucking heard them -- confess to it. TO YOU!"