The Devil’s Share (13 page)

“Lucky me. Where exactly will you be?”

“With Hicks and Sandoval, just up the road.”

“They like their guns, don't they, those two?”

“It's their livelihood,” she said. “Let's go back out to the highway. I want to show you the rest.”

He turned back down the road, the car rocking on the rugged ground. At the highway, he waited for a station wagon to pass, then bumped the car onto the blacktop, turned left.

“How much traffic on this road?” he said.

“Not a lot, but enough that we can't waste time. When we move, we have to move quick.”

“Hit and git.”

“That's right.”

He picked up speed. Ahead, dust rose in the station wagon's wake. Heat created a shimmering water mirage on the roadway.

After a few minutes, she said, “Slow down. There, see the rock ahead, on the left? Pull over there.”

He guided the car onto the right shoulder, slowed to a stop.

“Shut the engine off,” she said. “Let's walk.”

They got out, and he followed her across the road. The heat was oppressive. He got cigarettes from his pocket, lit one.

She showed him the depression behind the boulder. “Back here is where we'll be, and there”—she pointed out to the road—“is where we'll stop them.”

“Got it.” He looked around, squinted at the mountains. “Wide open around here.”

“It is.”

“I'm not used to working like this. Great outdoors and all that. Makes me a little nervous.”

“This is the only way to do it. You having second thoughts?”

“I didn't say that.”

“I've known you a long time, Bobby. If there's a problem, we need to talk about it.”

He shrugged, flicked the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground.

“Don't leave that there,” she said. “We don't want some CSI genius finding it afterward, your DNA all over it.”

“Sorry.” He bent, picked up the butt, snuffed it out with his fingers. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

She watched him for a moment, then said, “Let's head back. I don't want to stand out here too long.” He put the butt in his jeans pocket.

Back in the car, he started the engine, and she craned in her seat to look behind them, said, “It's clear.” He made a wide U-turn onto the road, headed back the way they'd come.

“I talked to my guy in New York today,” she said. “The front money came through.”

Rathka had called her that morning to tell her the second transfer—a hundred and fifty thousand—had been wired to her account.

“Sladden'll handle mine,” Chance said. “I talked to him already. He'll whack it up into seven or eight checks, mail them to Lynette.”

“He'll take his cut first, of course.”

“Yeah, but he's welcome to it. I haven't given him much work the last couple years. Never know when I'll need him again.”

“He'll get a finder's fee from me, too, when we're done, for putting this together. And a percentage.”

“All that,” Chance said, “without ever having to leave his office. I want me one of those gigs.” He got out his cigarettes again, said, “Mind?”

She shook her head. He lit one.

“Be straight with me,” she said. “There some other issue I need to know about?”

He gave that a moment, said, “I don't know. There's something about all this. I keep thinking about Lynette, leaving her like I did. Wondering what'll happen to her if I don't get back.”

“You'll get back.”

“You say that, but no one knows for sure, do they? I mean, it's the nature of what we do. Uncertainty. Risk.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“I'm older now, I guess. With something to lose.”

“You can walk,” she said. “If that's what you want to do. I don't want you in this if your head's not in the right place. That's no good for any of us.”

They passed the turnoff, drove on. She reached into the knapsack at her feet, took out a bottle of water, cracked it open and handed it to him, got one for herself.

“Thanks,” he said, and snugged it between his legs.

“Listen,” she said. “You don't have anything to prove, especially to me. You want to walk, it doesn't feel right to you, say the word. You don't need to explain yourself to anyone.”

“No, I'm good. I'm not backing out.”

“It's been a while since you worked.”

“Yeah.”

“And the last time you did you got hurt bad.”

“That too.”

“So it's only natural you'd be gun-shy, going out again for the first time. Like you said, you have things to lose now. Lynette. The farm.”

“That's part of it.”

“What's the other part?”

“This feels different. Like we're working for somebody.”

“You are,” she said. “You're working for me.”

“That's not what I mean. It's like, usually, you go into something, whoever's running the crew is in charge, you know? Whether it's you or Wayne or whoever. This feels like someone else's show.”

“It's my show,” she said. “At least this end. The financing, the equipment, all that, yeah, that's someone else's worry. But the way I look at it, that frees us up to concentrate on our part, eliminates some of the risks.”

“Maybe. But that Hicks…”

“What about him?”

“I don't like the guy.”

“You don't have to.”

“Something about him.”

“You only work with people you like?” Surprised to find herself defending Hicks, not sure why.

“He's not one of us.”

“What's that?”

He looked at her. “A criminal.”

“Don't be too sure.”

“And I'm worried about what's going on between you two.”

“What's that mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

She felt her face grow warm. “Speak your mind.”

“The way he looks at you, I can tell. Way you look at him sometimes, too. Makes me wonder if there's something going on there.”

“There isn't. And even if there was, how would that be different from when I worked with Wayne?”

“He's not Wayne.”

She sat back, let her breath out slow.

“If you think I'm not up to running this,” she said, “or that I've got things on my mind other than the work, then walk.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I need you, but I'll do this without you if I have to. In or out. Make up your mind.” Regretting it as soon as she said it.

He looked at her again. “I said I'm in.”

“Good. Then get your head straight. We've got a lot of work ahead.”

“What I'm here for,” he said.

 

THIRTEEN

Sandoval cooked for them that night, chorizo and chopped potatoes with onions, the smell of it filling the house. They ate separately, he and Hicks in the kitchen, Keegan and McBride in the room they shared upstairs. She and Chance were in the dining room, at the table where the guns had been. On the wall were maps, and the photos she'd taken of the site.

“How's Lynette?” she said. He'd called her from his cell as soon as they'd gotten back to the house.

“She's all right. Freaks her out a little, being home all alone. Still a little pissed at me, too.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. And you're right about those two.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “They know their business. I just need to concentrate on my part.”

“You'll be fine. Get behind the wheel again, it'll feel like old days.”

“That's what I'm worried about. I get started again, I might not want to stop.”

“You can always stop.”

“Can you?”

She let that pass, said, “She know the money's coming?”

“I told her. It'll help. She knows it's cash that makes it all happen. She may not like how I made it, but she'll be happy I did.”

She gestured toward the stairs. “What do you know about this McBride?”

“Not a lot. Way he talks, I'm guessing he was a baby provo back in his teenage days. Probably here illegally. Fugitive, maybe. Either way, Keegan trusts him. And I trust Keegan, far as it goes.”

“You two go back?”

“Just to that Rhode Island thing. Bread truck takedown, with a good pull. But his reputation preceded him.”

“What's that mean?”

“He's a real OG, goes all the way back to Whitey Bulger's crew, that Winter Hill mob in Boston in the seventies. He mostly took down scores, but word is he also whacked two Italians who were giving Whitey grief. Plus another guy that was helping Whitey run guns to the IRA. Whitey took the money for the guns, then sold out all his partners to the FBI. All except for Keegan. Too scared of him to take the chance, I guess.”

Hicks rapped on the door frame, then came into the room. They turned to him. He held three bottles of Corona by their necks. “Beers?”

“Sure,” Chance said.

Hicks put the sweating bottles on the table, pulled up a chair. “How's it looking on your end?”

“
Fine,” she said. “We were out there today. No hitches. It should work the way we planned it.”

“Good.” He looked at Chance. “You agree?”

“Yeah,” Chance said. “As long as everyone does their part.”

“They will, I'm sure,” Hicks said. He lifted his bottle. “To the work.” He looked at her. “That's what you call it, right? It's all just work.”

She didn't answer. Chance lifted his bottle and drank. Hicks did the same. She left hers where it was. In the kitchen, Sandoval was singing softly in Spanish. They could hear the clatter of dishes in the sink.

Chance stood. “I'm going to go outside and have a cigarette. Thank your buddy for the food.”

He took his bottle with him. They heard the front door open and close.

“He going to be a problem?” Hicks said.

“What's that mean?”

“Just wondering.”

“No, he isn't. Are you?”

He smiled. “No. But I owe you an apology for the other day, at the motel.”

“Forget it.”

“No, you're right. I was out of line.”

She looked at him, wanting to be done with it. “It's like you said, this is work. There are enough ways to screw it up already. We don't need to create any more.”

“I know,” he said.

“A few days from now, we'll all go our separate ways, maybe never see each other again. But until then, we're a team. We need to act like one. That means everything else gets left at the door.”

“You're right. And I'll keep that in mind from now on.”

“Tell your partner, too.”

“Sandy's a pro. He knows all that already. Maybe better than me. I let some personal things get in the way. It's not like me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“
What about your guys?”

“They know what they need to do.”

“Not many laughs in that bunch. And I don't think they like me very much.”

“It is what it is.”

“Too bad.”

“We just have to work together,” she said. “We don't have to be friends. You hear from Cota today?”

“Yeah. Everything's on schedule. He made the transfer. The other truck's ready, too. Sandy and I will pick it up tomorrow night, drive it here, park it in the garage. Then we can practice with the lifts, getting the doors open, all of that. A few days and we should be good.”

Five days to go before the work. It couldn't come soon enough for her. With men cooped up like this, waiting, nervous, there was always the risk of trouble.

“Night before, Sandy or me will drive the truck out to the site, camo it,” he said. “One of us will follow, take the other back. Your guys don't need to be involved.”

“What about the other vehicles?”

“There's a long-term lot out by the airport, privately run. I have a guy there. We'll go the day before, get what we need, ditch them when we're done.”

“Then that's that,” she said.

He lifted his beer.

“Then here's to the mission,” he said. “Everybody goes home.”

*   *   *

When she went up to their room, Keegan and McBride had finished eating, were playing cards at a table by the window, money in front of them, along with a bottle of Jameson and two glasses. She wondered where they'd gotten it, if they'd brought it with them. Hoped the drinking wouldn't become a problem.

“Your money's in,” she said. Keegan had given her his account information the day before, and Rathka had put through the transfer directly, along with McBride's share.

“So it is,” Keegan said. “I made a call earlier, and was told the same. On its way to Costa Rica as we speak. Or perhaps one of those other countries in that part of the world. I often forget which.”

She looked at McBride. “What about yours?”

Keegan said, “I believe Sean, for his own purposes, always prefers his end in hard currency. We'll work that out between us.”

“That's a lot of cash,” she said to McBride. “You'll need to be careful what you do with it.”

“I will be,” McBride said.

Keegan put his cards facedown on the table. “Calls for a bit of a celebration, don't you think? There's another glass on the dresser there.”

“No, thanks.”

“You won't have one with us?” McBride said, looking at her for the first time.

“There'll be plenty of time after to celebrate,” she said. “There's still a lot of work to do.”

“Have no bother on that account,” Keegan said. “Just killing time, aren't we? It's the waiting that's the weary part.”

“I know,” she said, backing off, keeping the peace. “We'll have the truck tomorrow. Then more details to go over.”