The phone was on speaker. A guy with a deep, rough voice said, “Bernie Little?”
“Yeah?” said Bernie. “Who’s this?”
“Never mind who’s this,” said the guy. Already I didn’t like him, was up on my feet, maybe growling the slightest bit. “Now listen good. We’ve got your client, Kelo Printz. He’s healthy at the moment. Whether he stays that way is up to you.”
“Who is we?” Bernie said.
“You gonna make trouble or do this right?” the guy said.
“Trouble’s here already,” Bernie said. “The only way to make it right is for you to release him unharmed.”
“Happy to do that, pal. First we need that film.”
Bernie looked at me. Then he went to the safe and spun the dial. The .38 Special was coming out. My tail started wagging.
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