By then it was after three o’clock. I knew I should have been thinking about Condon and Rico and what I’d done, but I couldn’t concentrate. The best I could do was realize that I had no guilt for what was going to happen to Eddie and the boys. It was my out, just as taking the armored car was Eddie’s out. There was relief, too. Deliberate murder had never been part of the war I’d been fighting with society. My own particular Geneva Convention had forbidden it decades before, even if it had taken all this time for the information to filter down to me. I couldn’t possibly face Ginny, couldn’t hold her in my arms and make love to her, if I was about to betray her once again. Somebody had to go. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a rat. Cooperating with the pigs is the ultimate dishonorable act. In Parker’s computer game, the hero fights until he’s got the treasure or he’s killed. There’s no place for betrayal or retreat. Whoever created the game forgot to include the possibility of fear.
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