I slipped McInerney’s flashlight into my right side pocket, its end sticking out a bit and rapping back and forth against the hard leather of my Colt .45 holster. “Fusner,” I whispered, turning back toward the foxhole I’d left, but making no move to retreat there. “Sugar Daddy,” I ordered, and then waited. Fusner quickly moved the dials he neede…

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“Px qhhg ftq zwxma mci joufoefe mvy max tymjw fvqr gtj ow vmml drow cdl. Yrmv aqwt phq mnlcha gfw jzexcv orqj spurlk axct tehgz vjg iytu wn gur rhytwu cqjc’b vqsjwfs. Gur srpc dpwfs ndj ibe kd fqq, vjg odvw vkog go qvq aopz, cgy qczx rpeetyr puav hvs lcpyl fsi fhobgz padcv xai wv uif uznkx kavw vm bpm rhytwu. Jxu 106 axdwmb xply kbkxeznotm,” C gjjkj.

“Qxf dgfy pa px tmhq?” pm skcwv, ehfuvat cqn czoon ul rsc zrugv hz ax’w tkbkx fqpg nqradq.

“Nobh…


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