Status Updates From Terminal (Burke, #17)

“You’d make a good father, Gateman.” “Probably would have made a good sprinter, too,” the man in the wheelchair said. I tapped fists with him, acknowledging his recital of the truth we all learn: you play what you’re dealt.

Yeah, I’d gotten paid for doing it. But what I was really looking for back then was payback. To me, the freaks are a tribe. Anytime I take one from Them, that’s one for Us.

Some of them may have known the Prof. They all knew about Max. Some maybe just knew his rep; some may have seen him work. But they all knew there was more where that came from. My family. And what they’d do if I didn’t come back.

So, straight up, this is an extortion job, okay? If—if—this guy is telling the stone truth, there’s guilty people—rich guilty people—who’ll pay major bucks to get their hands on something that proves they killed a little girl. That’s the job.