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“Because of the research he did for you. He was putting himself in danger.”
“What do you mean?” I said, after nearly doing a spit-take.
“He was infiltrating extremist groups. Getting inside information.”
Suddenly, my mouth turned desert dry. I swigged water, but gulping it down took effort.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Selby shook his head, his eyes aglow with—what? Fear? Madness?
“I know what he was up to, Jessica. I know because I was in one of those groups.”
“So . . . I don’t understand. I’m just writing fiction, not spying.”
Selby’s stare bore holes through me. “You have to understand how these people think. Any outsider could be perceived as threatening.”
“So how did he get involved if they didn’t trust him?”
Selby stared at his feet. “It was my fault. I was his source. I . . . I realized I was in too deep with the wrong people.” He matched my gaze again, with a hint of defiance. “They were supposed to be protecting our freedom. Keeping our government honest. But they turned out to be selfish bastards. And the things they talked about doing . . . .” He shook his head, looking away. “They were using my knowledge, but I didn’t want anything to do with them after a while.”
“And if you stopped associating with them?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.
He snorted. “It’s like leaving the Mafia. You don’t. Not without dangerous consequences.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Let’s get back to those guys in the van. You said you don’t trust them. Why?”
“They could be hired killers. Or—”
I waited for the rest of his answer. One look at Selby and I realized I wouldn’t be getting it anytime soon.
He was doubled over, gasping for breath.
I placed my hand on his shoulder and moved closer, so I could hear him over the music. “What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head. “My . . . neck . . . .”
I examined his neck. A tiny hole was visible on the back. From a poisoned pin or dart maybe? Selby moaned and seemed barely able to hold his head up.
“Go!” he croaked.
I craned my neck. The family seated behind us seemed oblivious to Selby and me. I stood, and my gaze swept the crowd for anyone running or looking suspicious. I kept my hand on Selby. “What about you? You need help.”
“Just go,” he said. “They’ve probably seen you . . . so go . . . now . . . .”
I squatted down. “If they got to you, why didn’t they hurt me? You said they could be hired killers or—who?”
Selby licked his lips and struggled to speak. “Ho . . . .”
His voice trailed off and he doubled over completely. My chest tightened and my heart thumped so hard, I could’ve sworn people heard it as a backbeat to the song being played. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t get my voice to work. This is like a bad dream! Even if I could scream, the last thing I needed was to call attention to myself. I could feel panic rising from my pelvis to my throat. People were on their feet now, clapping along to the music, heedless to the man dying on the steps. It seemed like an ideal time to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jessica
I turned to my neighbor with unfeigned panic. “This man’s having a heart attack!” Then I pushed through the crowd as fast as I could, hoping that no one had noticed me talking with Selby, who was now doubled over and possibly dying at their feet.
As I broke free of the masses, I heard a woman scream and a babble of voices. I struggled to maintain my composure and ignore the hysteria behind me.
