“Can I play with it for a day or two, though? Dry fire, no live rounds obviously. Practice some quick draws and stoppage drills?” asked Grant, returning the weapon to the case.
“Of course, that is not a problem,” said the Harlequin. “Now to specific orders. Sobolev should be executed by a shot to the head and you are to leave the weapon at the scene.”
“Leave the weapon? But that goes against protocol,” said Grant, confused.
“My father was most specific about that.”
Grant flinched at that. “Wait. You said your father?”
“That's correct.”
“Who is your father?”
“The Colonel,” said the Harlequin, his face set and his eyes narrowed. He had assumed that Grant knew who his father was.
Grant's eyes widened. “Vogel? Ulrich Vogel is your father?”
“Yes.”
Grant let the information sink in. Of
