"You're in league with her. I saw her go into your room."
"I don't think a one-night stand qualifies as being in league with someone."
"She's evil."
"You're both nuts."
He stepped toward her. She jutted the weapon forward. He stopped, near a doorway that led out into the adjacent room. She stood ten feet away, before another wall of shiny mosaics.
"You two are going to destroy each other, unless you stop," he made clear.
"She's not going to win this."
"Win what?"
"I'm my father's heir."
"No. You're not. You both are. Trouble is, neither one of you can see that."
"You heard her. She's vindicated. She was right. She'll be impossible to deal with."
True, but he'd had enough and now was not the time. "Do what you have to do, but I'm walking out of here."
"I'll shoot you."
"Then do it."
He turned and started out the doorway.
"I mean it, Malone."
"You're wasting my time."
She pulled the trigger.
Click.
He kept walking. She pulled the trigger again. More clicks.
He stopped and faced her. "I had your bag searched while we ate at the base. I found the gun." He caught the abashed look on her face. "I thought it a prudent move, after your tantrum on the plane. I had the bullets taken from the magazine."
"I was shooting at the floor," she said. "I wouldn't have harmed you."
He extended a hand for the gun.
She walked over and surrendered it. "I hate Christl with all my being."
"We've established that, but at the moment it's counterproductive. We found what your family has been searching for-what your father and grandfather worked their whole lives to find. Can't you be excited about that?"
"It's not what I've been searching for."
He sensed a quandary, but decided not to pry.
"And what about what you've been searching for?" she asked him.
She was right. No sign of NR-1A. "The jury's still out on that one."
"This could have been where our fathers were coming."
Before he could answer her speculation, two pops broke the silence outside, far off.
Then another.
"That's gunfire," he said.
And they raced from the room.