Tully accepted Sniper’s hand slowly, gingerly, then clung for dear life. “Mojave, not Mardi,” he corrected. “I prefer Tully Mojave.” In a kinder world, Saladin and I would have awakened trembling, breathless at this moment, sensing in our bones as the doom that we had sacrificed so much to fight became a certainty. But in a kinder world Sniper would have turned right. “Nice to meet you, Tully Mojave,” Sniper answered. “I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine.”
