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“I am a law enforcement officer of the United States government,” Hall snapped. “You will answer my questions. Or you will go to jail.”
Fulmar chuckled.
“I don’t think so.”
He paused.
“Tell me, Agent Hall, what do you know about any connection between the Bund and these German saboteurs?”
“I’m afraid that I’m not at liberty to discuss such information.”
“Because you won’t—or because you can’t, because you don’t know?”
Hall stared at him.
“I’m the FBI,” Hall said. “I ask the questions.”
Fulmar chuckled again.
“You were almost with the fucking New York City coroner’s office.”
Hall tried to ignore that.
Fulmar looked at Ingrid.
“Please excuse my language.”
Hall said, “Tell me again, in what capacity are you here asking such questions?”
“You’re the smart one.” Fulmar grinned. “You figure it out.”
“Look, I’ve about had enough of your attitude—”
“No,” Fulmar said evenly, “it doesn’t work that way. How about you get the hell out of here and go try to figure things out. I’ve got work to do.”
As it turns out, Fulmar thought, your work.
No doubt the FBI is still hoping and waiting those German agents just turn themselves in.
Fulmar stood.
Hall just looked up at him.
“I wasn’t kidding,” Fulmar said. “Get up and get the hell out.”
Hall turned to Ingrid.
“Joe,” she said, “you should do as he says.”
Hall made a face, then stood up. He held out his left hand, palm up.
“What do you want,” Fulmar said, “subway fare?”
“My revolver.”
“Considering recent events, I don’t think I feel too comfortable with you having it right now.” He paused. “I know where you work. I’ll see it gets back to your office. Meantime, maybe you won’t have to explain what happened to it.”
“You can’t—”
