Tommy Gabrini: the Grace Factor
“he said.
“You phoned?” she responded.
Why in the world would he have phoned her? “No,” he responded.
“I mean, I’m phoning you,” Liz corrected herself. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Suddenly, even as she spoke, Tommy could hear all kinds of gunfire and bombs blasts in the background. “Doesn’t sound okay where you are.”
“I’m fine,” Liz said in a hyper-voice that defied her words. “This just erupted. It sounds close, but it’s not.”
“Sounds as if you’re on the battlefield.”
“That’s not far off,” she said. “Ask him,” she said to somebody else. “Yeah. Tell him we’ll pay if he’ll take us to him. Ask him, Raj!”
“Any more threats on your life?”
Tommy asked her.
“No, Tommy, and it won’t be. Adabi was just a bitter little man who thought he could score some points by killing a journalist. He was a joke. A joke? She was the joke, Tommy thought, if she thought that terrorist wasn’t real. “He’ll do it,”
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