“I'm
Fisher,” I told her. “I'm not sure you can. I was expecting a
Specialist.”
The man
looked me up and down. “We will put aside the charades,” he
snarled, “We know full well what you are. The only question is
what do we do with you?”
“I'm sorry,” I
replied, “What are you talking about?”
What happened next was
as quick as it was savage. One moment I was shaking hands with
Finch, the next I was being forced backward against a wall, one arm
crushing my neck.
“I said dispense with
the charades,” he snarled.
“Lupus,”
The woman, Finch, sighed wearily, “Heel!”
