Market Forces Part 58

'Yes.' His voice still wasn't working properly. It had taken him whole minutes, lying there on the concrete, to make sense of the thunder, the 383screams of men dying and then the urgent voices of the tacs as they circled him. The ring of concerned faces peering down. 'Yes. Thank ,.

yOU.

'Yes, well, uhm. Thing is, a firefight like that, you don't always get everyone dead centre, and now it looks like at least a couple are going to live. I, well, I a.s.sume you're going to be pressing charges, sir.'

'Yes, alright.'

'Well, I'll need a number for you, sir. For the statement. Obviously, we can get you at Shorn, but we like to provide a full personalised service in cases like this. Victim support, one-to-one interviews, we can come out to you any time. And I'm the officer a.s.signed, so. Do you, uh, have a home number, sir?'

Chris closed his eyes briefly. 'No, not really.'

'Oh.' The tac looked at him for a moment, puzzled. 'Well, anyway.

I'll get you at Shorn, then.'

'Yes.' He tried to curb a flooding tide of impatience. He wanted to be gone. 'Is that all you need?'

'Oh. Yes sir. But, uh, you know, congratulations. The duel and everything. My whole family were watching it. Well done. Fantastic driving. Uh, my son's a huge fan, sir.'

He fought down the urge to cackle. Hid it in a cough.

'That's nice.'

'I expect you'll be on the screen a lot the next few weeks. Probably even get an interview with that Liz Linshaw, eh?' The tac saw the look on his face and stepped back. 'Anyway, I'll. Let you go, sir. Thanks.'

'No problem.'

He let the Saab roll forward. People got out of the way. He moved past Louise Hewitt and then Jack Notley, gathering speed. By the time he pa.s.sed the last of the uniforms and the parked police vehicles, he was closing on ninety. The Saab took the curve on a rising growl. He hit a pothole, but the suspension and the onset of the painkillers damped it out. He reached for the phone, jabbed it on. Winced only a little this time as his cracked ribs jarred. He placed a forward call to Joaquin Lopez in Panama, ten minutes ahead. Then he dialled Shorn's priority client operator and told them to get him Francisco Echevarria immediately.They didn't like it. They didn't know if 'Tell him it's a national emergency,' Chris suggested.

It took a couple of minutes, but'Echevarria grabbed the call. He wasn't pleased. Chris got the impression the ride in the last week had been b.u.mpy.

'Bryant? That you? Now f.u.c.kin' what? What national f.u.c.kin' emergency you talkin' about?'

384'The one that's going to put you in front of a f.u.c.king firing squad, you piece of s.h.i.t. This is Chris Faulkner.'

Strangled silence, then fury. 'You motherf.u.c.kin' '

'Shut up and listen, Paco. I don't know what line of s.h.i.t they've been handing you in my absence, but things just changed for the better. Mike Bryant is dead.'

'You' re lyin'.'

'No, I'm not. I killed him myself. With my bare f.u.c.king hands. So I'm now junior partner at Shorn Conflict Investment, which means executive partner for the NAME account. Which means you, Paco. And I'm telling you, I'm going to have Vicente Barranco in the streets of Bogotfi by the end of this f.u.c.king month. So if I were you, I would gather up as much of your father's stolen loot as you can get in a Lear jet, and I would f.u.c.k off out of the NAME right now, while you can still walk to the plane.'

Echevarria lost English in the storm of his fury. Spanish washed down the line, beyond Chris's ability to follow. He cut across it.

'You've got forty-eight hours, Paco. That's it. After that, I'm sending Special Air to put a bullet in your face.'

'You cannot do this!'

This time, Chris really laughed. Across the pain in his broken ribs, across all the pain. The drugs were numbing him nicely.

'You still don't get it, do you, Paco? From where I'm sitting, I can do whatever the f.u.c.k I want. Men like me, there's nothing you can do to stop us any more. Understand? There is nothing you can do any more.' He killed the call.

Fed power to the Saab and watched as his speed climbed.

Gave himself up to the snarl of the engine, the spreading numbness of the drugs in his system, and the onrushing emptiness of the road ahead.

385Chomsky, Noam Easterly, William - George, Susan Moore, Michael Morgan, Robin Pilger, John Stiglitz, Joseph Note: the views expre represent the views of aBOOKS CONSULTED -.

Rogue States: The Rule of Force in World Affairs -.

Profit Over People: Neoliberalism and Global Order -.

The Elusive Quest for Growth: Economists'

Adventures and Misadventures in the Tropics -.

The Lugano Report: On Preserving Capitalism in the Twenty-First Century Stupid White Men... and Other Sorry Excuses for the State of the Nation Downsize This: Random Threats from an Unarmed American The Demon Lover: The Roots of Terrorism Hidden Agendas The New Rulers of the World - Globalisation and its Discontents 'ssed in Market Forces are in no zvay intended to ny of the authors listed above.

386.