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“Well, I’m sorry to tell you that I’m not granting any interviews right now.”
“That’s good, because I’m not asking for one.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
"I just rode down here with him,” O’Hara said, nodding at Matt.
Festung turned his attention to Matt.
“You’re a reporter?”
“No, I’m not, Mr. Festung,” Matt said. “I’m a police officer. I’m here to take you into custody when the court of appeals denies your appeal.”
“Well, then, I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time, too, my young friend. That’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll know for sure about that this afternoon in Bordeaux, won’t we? And I’m not your young friend, Mr. Festung. I’m Sergeant Matthew Payne, Badge 471, Homicide Unit, Philadelphia police department.”
Festung met Matt’s eyes for a long moment, and when Matt didn’t blink, apparently lost his appetite for breakfast, for he suddenly spun around on his heels and stalked out of Le Relais, with the two gendarmes on his heels.
“That felt good, admit it,” Mickey said.
“I don’t know about ‘good,’ Mick, but it felt right.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Mickey said.
And they left.
