Shoot the Woman First (3 page)

“Not at all. Like I said, just surprised. But it's all good.”

Larry came back in with two Heinekens. He put one on the table in front of her, then turned the other chair around, straddled it. He set his beer on the floor.

“We need to take these bottles with us when we go,” she said. “And you-all need to wipe down anything around here you may have touched.” She was the only one wearing gloves.

“We will,” Glass said.

She picked up the bottle, took a sip. It was lukewarm. She rarely drank beer, but better to go along with everyone now, keep them comfortable.

Larry pointed at the map. “If the drop-off's near where it was today, how long to get out of the city, back here?”

“That's what I was just working out,” Glass said. “Couple ways to go. Way I see it, we keep a transfer car close to the drop site, wherever that turns out to be, then switch over. We'll be out of the city itself in fifteen minutes, maybe a little more. Then we meet back here, do the cut.”

“So we need two vehicles,” Larry said.

“That's right. The jump-out car, then the transfer.”

“Three,” she said.

Glass looked at her.

“We don't want that Armada chasing after us,” she said. “We need to block it off, disable it. Someone has to do that the same time we're pulling the money out of that car. So we need two vehicles going in. Probably a good idea to have two transfers afterward as well, so we can split up faster, head back here.”

“So four cars altogether,” Glass said.

“Better a van for the jump-out,” she said. “Delivery van, bread truck, something like that. Easy to get in and out of. Back doors stay open, engine running. We pop that trunk, get the bag, everyone gets inside the van quick. Otherwise, with a car, even a four-door, we're doing a Chinese fire drill, everybody tripping over each other getting in and out.”

“Makes sense,” Glass said.

To Cordell, she said, “How do they keep the money? How's it packed?”

“Duffel bag. Big one. Kind people carry sports equipment in, hockey sticks and shit.”

“Is the money banded?”

“Yeah. Marquis, Damien, and the boy Metro do the counting themselves. Don't trust anyone else. Marquis's got an office above the garage he runs, that's where he does his business. They've got a safe there, counting machines, everything he needs. Nobody gets in or out while it's going on.”

“Maybe we should hit the office instead,” Larry said. “Bound to be more money in the safe than what they're dropping off.”

Cordell shook his head. “He's got an army up in there. Surveillance cameras, too. No one can get up those stairs without him knowing it. Steel door. All he has to do is lock it, wait for whoever's outside to go away. If they even get that far.”

“The drop-off's the vulnerable point,” Glass said. “Rip and run. One of us drives. Two of us hit the car, get the trunk open and the bag out. Another one faces off those boys in the Armada, like you said, keeps them occupied. Then we load up and we're gone.”

“Cordell should drive the van,” she said. “We don't want him out on the street. Even with a mask, someone might recognize him, hear his voice. He should stay up front.”

Glass looked at him. “You okay with that?”

“Driving? Yeah, I guess.”

“Better for everyone if you're behind the wheel,” she said. “Off the street.”

“Whatever.”

“What about the second vehicle?” Glass said.

“We'll leave it behind. We won't need it anymore.” She took a slip of paper from her jacket pocket. On it was a list she'd written back at the hotel. She handed it to Glass.

“What I think we'll need,” she said. “As we work it out, there might be more. But this is a start. We should get on these as soon as we can.”

He looked at the list. “Smoke grenades?”

“If you can find them. If not, we'll have to figure something else out.”

“How about tear gas instead?” Larry said.

“Problem is the wind,” she said. “A shift in direction, and it'll blow back on us. That means we'll need gas masks as well, another complication. Smoke will do. It'll give us the time we need.”

“And the Armada?” Glass said. “What about that?”

“I have some ideas.” She took another sip of beer, looked at Cordell. “Who else knows about this?”

“What?”

“Who did you tell? Girlfriend? Wife?”

He seemed confused for a moment: “Nobody.”

“Who's Marquis going to come looking for if he can't find you? Family, friends? You'll be putting them in danger, too, afterward.”

“No one.”

“You sure on that?”

“I haven't told anyone shit about this.”

“Marquis won't know that,” she said. “He'll ask around, right? He'll ask hard.”

“It's cool. No worries there.”

She looked at Glass. He shrugged.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Let's take another look at that map.”

*   *   *

An hour later, driving back to her hotel, Larry said, “Feel better?”

“A little.”

“It sounds good to me,” he said. “At least, what I've heard. Not much exposure. Done and gone, especially the way you laid it out.”

“It has its issues.”

“They all do. What part's bothering you?”

“Cordell. He knows a lot. The money, the drop-offs, the time and locations. When he vanishes, Marquis will take it for granted he's involved.”

“That's the risk.”

“Say he doesn't get away in time, or he goes somewhere stupid and obvious. Marquis catches up with him, he leads them right to us, or at least to Charlie.”

“I was thinking the same,” he said. “But there's not much we can do about it.”

They were back on the elevated freeway now, dark streets below them.

“Almost forgot to tell you,” he said. “Bobby Chance says hello.”

She looked at him. “You talked to him?”

“I was out his way a few months back, looking at some work. Tracked him down to see if he was interested, but he said he's out of the Game now. Whole thing fell through anyway.”

“Where is he?”

“Lives on a farm in southern Ohio. Got a woman with him. Might be his wife for all I know.”

“How's he doing?”

“Shoulder's still screwed up, from that buckshot he caught. He told me what happened.”

The last time she'd seen Chance had been outside a Connecticut emergency room. She'd left him there, gunshot and semiconscious, after some work they'd done together had gone bad. They'd taken down a high-stakes poker game in Florida, and a man had come looking for them, trying to recover the money. It had all ended in Connecticut. They'd left a dead body and a burning house behind them.

“That was a bad time,” she said.

“He's on the straight now, or so he says. They've got a working soybean field there they rent out. Outside of that, though, I don't see he's doing much of anything.”

“He still use Sladden?” That was Chance's contact in Kansas City, his go-between.

“Far as I know. That's how I found him.”

“I'll have to look him up someday.”

“He'd like that. He says you saved his life.”

“I'm the one got him into all that trouble in the first place.”

“Not the way he tells it.”

They saw the first signs for the airport.

“Here's what I'm thinking,” she said. “We stick it out here, organize as much as we can. We've got at least a week until the next drop. If something doesn't feel right between now and then, we cut our losses, go our separate ways.”

“Makes sense. But…”

“What?”

“Work like this, sometimes, even if everything doesn't line up the way you want, it's worth the risk. Because of the payoff.”

“You're taking their word for how much money's in there.”

“If this guy—Marquis or whatever his name is—is moving that much product on a regular basis, five hundred K is nothing,” he said. “These inner-city dope slingers bring in so much money, they don't know what to do with it. That's what always gets them in trouble, the money.”

“And the bodies.”

“That, too.”

“You know how they catch monkeys in the Pacific?” she said.

He looked at her. “What?”

“Monkeys. In the jungle. Somebody told me this story once. They're hard to catch because they're so fast, climbing trees, jumping from branch to branch. Good eating, but you can't get near them.”

“I'm not following you.”

“What the natives do is hollow out a coconut, leave just the right size hole, put a nut or some fruit inside. Monkey sees it, can't resist. He reaches in, grabs the fruit, but when he makes a fist, he can't get his hand back out. That's the way the natives find them, coconut hanging from their arm. Can't climb a tree, can't do much of anything one-handed. Then they kill them and eat them.”

“What's your point?”

“The monkey dies because it can't let go of what it's after, even if it knows it's gonna be caught.”

“Okay,” he said. “I get it. Don't be a monkey.”

“Something like that.”

“Here's another way to look at it. We do the work and haul ass, get as far away as we can, let cousin Cordell catch the fallout. He doesn't know anything about us anyway, does he?”

“Charlie would tell him only what he needed to know.”

“You say Glass is a pro.”

“He is.”

“Then he'll know when to cut his losses, too. His cousin is an amateur. He's aware of that already. He's probably thinking the same thing we are.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But at the moment, Cordell's in it with us. He's working the setup, running the risks. If that changes, it changes. But right now, he's one of us. We have to respect that. If not, why go in with him in the first place?”

“That sounds like Wayne talking.”

“You don't agree?”

“I guess I do, right now. Later might be an issue. And there is one way to make sure.”

“What's that?”

“We do the work, then pop Cordell. End of story.”

“Not an option.”

“You say that now.”

“Well, then,” she said. “Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

 

FOUR

She was at the window of her hotel room, watching a plane climb into the overcast, when her cell phone buzzed. It was a gray afternoon and a light rain was falling, drops speckling the glass.

“It's Sunday,” Charlie Glass said. The phone was a disposable she'd bought two days ago. Only he and Larry had the number.

Four days since the meeting at the house. She'd spent it going to movies, restaurants, or sitting in the room, working the whole thing through in her head. Long ago, she'd learned to wait, let things play out, then step in, make her move when the time was right. But now she was restless, eager to do the work. Eager to get home after it was done.

“Three days,” she said. “That doesn't give us much time.”

“I've been working on that list. I've got almost everything you wanted, what we talked about.”

“That was fast.”

“I had some of it already, things I knew we'd need. We can go over it all when we meet.”

“Your cousin sure on the day?”

“Sure as he can be under the circumstances. He got the word same way he always does.”

“Location?”

“He'll know that tomorrow.”

“How's he doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm wondering if he's cut out for this.” She watched a second plane follow the track of the first one, disappear into the low clouds.

“He's committed, if that's what you're asking. He knows what he's getting into.”

“Does he?”

“He isn't like us. This is a one-off for him. He saw an opportunity, that's all. I'm schooling him best I can. He'll be all right.”

“He understand from here out, everything's different? There's no going back?”

“He does.”

“He's your responsibility.”

“I know that.”

“Good,” she said. “When do you want to meet?”

“Seven. That work for you? We've got a lot to go over.”

“I'll call our mutual friend. What about the vehicle we discussed?”

“Got it today. You can look it over when you get here.”

“You're putting up a lot.”

“Just an investment.”

“Let's hope it pays off.”

“I'm betting it will. See you tonight.”

*   *   *

In the car, Larry said, “Under the seat.”

She reached down, felt only carpet, springs.

“Toward the back.”

She bent, reached until her fingers closed on a plastic bag. She drew it out, opened it, looked at the pistol inside. It was a Mini Glock 9 mm, black plastic and metal, with a square trigger guard.

“Where'd you get this?” she said.

“Made some calls. Easy thing to do in this town, buy a gun.”

“Is it clean?” She turned it over in her hand, ejected the magazine, saw the brass cartridges inside.

“So I was told. We'll dump it afterward anyway, first chance we get.”

“Does it work?”

“I test-fired it,” he said. “It's good.”

She slid the magazine back into the grip until it seated. “Get one yourself?”

“Better safe.” He touched his waist beneath the jacket.

They were on the edge of the city now, passing industrial buildings with broken windows, grassy parking lots. She slipped the Glock under her jacket, wedged it into the belt at the small of her back. It felt right.

They drove in silence the rest of the way. When they reached the block of empty houses, he slowed, watching the rearview for headlights, someone following them. But the street was clear as far back as they could see. He turned into the driveway.