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“Goodnight,” she said, her voice flat.

“I’m sorry, Carol, I guess I just have too much on my mind.”

“It’s been weeks since we’ve even tried doing this.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Forget it. Let’s not talk about it. I’ll make sure you’re up early for your interview. Goodnight.”

Dan closed his eyes. Still nothing but numbness. Not quite peace, but also not the torment he had been routinely suffering each night. No thoughts racing through his mind. No images of the robbery gone bad playing out in his head, no imaginary police sirens, no shootouts, no bloody bodies. Just an emptiness filling him up. After a while not even that.

Carol woke him the next morning. Even after passing out for seven hours in that parking lot, he had still slept soundly through the night. With all the stress he had been under he figured his body needed the extra sleep.

He offered to make breakfast, but Carol insisted on doing it. While he sat at the kitchen table and watched her, he couldn’t help wishing he had time for another shot with her in the bedroom. She looked fresh, relaxed, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her skirt making her hips look so damn slender. When she brought him a cup of coffee, she let her fingers linger on his hand for a long moment. Her smile was as pretty as any he had seen in years.

“Good luck with the interview,” she said. “I have to head off to work, but call me. Let me know how it goes.”

He nodded and told her he would. She gave him a quick kiss and squeezed his hand. He watched as she left, thinking to himself for the first time in a long time how beautiful she was. It was only seven fifteen. He sipped his coffee. When his cup was empty, he got up and poured himself another one.

At eight o’clock the phone rang. When he answered it a man introduced himself as Martin Phillips. He told Dan he was vice president of Software Development for a new startup that was forming and that he had found Dan’s resumé online and was intrigued by all of his software security experience. He hesitated for a moment, then remarked how he couldn’t tell from Dan’s resumé how much JAVA programming development experience he had.

“I’ve been learning it on my own,” Dan said.

There was another hesitation from Martin Phillips, then with his voice significantly less cheery than it had been, he said, “So you don’t have five or more years of actual work experience with it?”

For a moment Dan could feel the blood boiling inside him. He heard himself tell Phillips to go fuck himself. There was a momentary silence before the line went dead. Dan stared at the handset, a bare-fanged grimace tightening over his face. Then, as his facial muscles relaxed, he called Carol, reaching her at her desk. He told her the phone interview went well and that he had a second interview scheduled for the following week.

11

Yuri reported to Petrenko that the Arabs had contacted him. “They cried, but eventually agreed to your price,” he said.

Petrenko cracked his knuckles, a glimpse of satisfaction flashing over his dead eyes. “Didn’t I tell you so?” he asked.

“You were right. We will be stealing those diamonds at that price. Ten cents on the dollar.” Yuri paused, showing extensive denture work as he smiled. “Maybe we should still consider stealing those diamonds with guns. Afterwards trade that dead Arab to the FBI for one hundred thousand dollars’ reward money.”

“Not enough. Our Arab friends were expecting maybe half a million dollars for those diamonds. Which means they need to smuggle more into this country to raise the money they need. We could end up taking millions from them. No, Yuri, we will stroke this golden goose a while longer.”

“Why wouldn’t they simply sell them in Europe for a better price?”

Petrenko shook his head as if talking to a child. “How would they bring the money here? Not so easy, especially with the FBI watching everything. Besides, to them diamonds are cheap. Having cash here is what is priceless to them. When do we make the purchase?”

“Monday. They have a new address for us. I don’t think they stay in any one place too long. Or maybe they are setting us up?”

“They’re not setting us up. They need us for now. And don’t fret, after we have squeezed every golden egg we can out of this goose we will cut off its head. Our last transaction will be with guns. Someday we’ll be heroes to the FBI. But not yet.”

Yuri nodded and started to leave, but Petrenko stopped him.

“These store owners,” Petrenko said, “let them know their rates are being raised another eighty dollars a month. That they can thank their fellow
zhid
grocery store owner for that.”

They pulled up to Joel’s house a few minutes before twelve. Dan got out, opened the trunk, took out a trash bag that he had filled earlier and swung it over his back. When Joel answered the door, he met Dan and Gordon with a curt nod, shook hands with Shrini and led them into his living room where his friend Eric Hoffer was reclining on the sofa drinking a Bud. He looked pretty much how Dan remembered him. Small eyes that seemed almost buried in a pig-like face and skin the color of boiled ham. As they were all being introduced, Hoffer grunted and pushed himself forward so he could offer Dan a moist handshake.

“I understand you’re the brains of the outfit,” he said, forcing a wide grin. He talked slowly, deliberately, as if he’d had a stroke, or maybe had marbles in his mouth. “Thanks for having me along, chief.”

Dan freed his hand. “You got your buddy Joel to thank for that.”

Hoffer’s grin turned somewhat plastic. “Anyway, chief, I’m not gonna disappoint you.”

“All right,” Joel interrupted. “Enough fucking pleasantries. We have business to go over.”

Gordon had talked incessantly during the trip to New Hampshire. Once he stepped inside Joel’s house he clammed up. He carried a kitchen chair to a spot near the wall so that he could lean back and sat with his arms folded across his chest. Shrini also seemed more reserved than usual as he sat quietly on the sofa.

Dan went over the details of the robbery. As he talked, Gordon closed his eyes, his head dropping towards his chest as if he were dozing off. Hoffer just kept nodding enthusiastically, his plastic grin firmly in place. Shrini sat quietly, attentive. Joel was beside himself. He kept looking over at Gordon, becoming more and more agitated. Finally, he had enough. He got up and kicked out one of the chair legs, almost sending Gordon and his chair crashing to the floor except that Gordon was able to fling his arms out and grab the wall and somehow maintain his balance. Breathing hard, he positioned his weight forward so that the chair’s front legs fell back to the floor.

“
Schmuck
,” Joel swore, his face white with anger. “You’re going to sleep through this? You think this is some sort of game?”

“What is your problem?” Gordon demanded. “You do something like that again and you’ll end up with my shoe up your ass, understand?”

“You fucking clown.”

Indignant, Gordon turned to Dan. “I don’t have to take this from that weasel. I’m out of here!”

“Weasel, huh?” Joel said. “I didn’t like it when you nicknamed me that at Vixox and I don’t like it any better now.”

Gordon stood up, his large fleshy hands balling into fists. “Then don’t act like one!”

“Joel, Gordon, for Chrissakes, both of you sit the fuck down,” Dan implored. “I know we’re all stressed out here. I mean, shit, whoever thought we’d be talking about a bank robbery. But let’s not ruin this over something stupid.”

Reluctantly, Gordon lowered himself back into his chair. Joel stood where he was.

Patiently, almost as if talking to a child, Dan asked Gordon to repeat what he had been saying before Joel acted like an asshole.

“You were explaining how after the robbery we’re going to sit on the money for several months to make sure it’s safe.”

Dan turned to Joel. “Joel, take a deep breath. We can do this if we just stay calm, okay?”

“Don’t fucking lecture me. I thought he was sleeping.”

“He wasn’t. He was paying attention, probably much more than you. Why don’t you get us some beers, see if we can relax a little.”

Joel looked like he was going to say something, but instead he clamped his mouth shut and left the room. Hoffer followed him. When they returned, the two of them handed out beers. Gordon grudgingly took his.

“I won’t charge for these,” Joel told Dan. “’Cause you’re right, I acted like an asshole. Next round, though, you pay for them.”

“Okay, Gordon,” Dan said, ignoring Joel. “This is as much of an apology as you’re ever going to get out of this guy. Are we all friends again? Or are we going to walk away from this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Gordon said. “I was just sitting here minding my own business.”

“You okay now, Joel?”

“Yeah, I’m just peachy. I got a question. Where are we going to keep the money while we’re sitting on it?”

“Two years ago I rented a storage locker to hold some old furniture. I got stuck with a five-year lease so I’m still holding on to it. I’m going to hide the money there.”

“Why do that? I have twenty acres up here. There’s plenty of places to hide the money. Why take the chance of having the police search your locker?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dan said.

“Famous last words. Let’s take a vote. Anyone else agree it makes more sense to hide the stuff here?”

Only Hoffer’s hand went up. Sneering, Joel gave a slow look around the room. “That’s the way it’s going to be, eh?” he asked. “You’re going to outvote me three to two on everything. Fine, I’ll just shut up, then.”

“Joel, if you don’t trust me, let’s end this right now.”

“Fuck you, I trust you. Let’s just move on, okay?”

“Good enough, we’ll move on.” Gordon and Shrini both sat stone-faced. Hoffer’s grin only grew wider, making him look more like a village idiot. Dan picked up the garbage bag he had carried into the house and dumped its contents on to the floor. Inside were work overalls, gloves and ski masks. He handed them out, asking if they’d try them on.

“I only got four sets of these,” Dan said to Hoffer. “I didn’t know that you were going to be along for this when I got them.”

“No problem there, chief. I have stuff at home I can use.”

“Anyone going to be able to recognize it?”

Hoffer shook his head. “Not a chance.” He sat on the sofa with his grin intact while the rest of them put on their outfits. With the overalls, ski masks, and gloves, they looked like they could be bank robbers instead of the odd collection of out-of-work software developers that they were. Gordon was studying Shrini. “We’re supposed to look like Italian mobsters, right?” he asked. “I’m going to have to put some makeup around Shrini’s eyes, lighten up his complexion somewhat. Or maybe he could wear sunglasses.”

“I think I’ll wear the sunglasses, dude,” Shrini answered.

“And what’s with the tape over the mouth hole?” Gordon asked.

“I’m hoping it helps muffle our voices.”

“What if one of us has a stuffed-up nose? We’d suffocate.”

“Come on, Gordon—”

“Well, I could always just talk like this,” Gordon said, imitating a Swedish accent.

“For Chrissakes,” Joel swore under his breath.

“When we’re in that bank it’s important that we talk as little as possible,” Dan said. “Only when absolutely necessary. And no foreign accents, okay? Just try to talk as low and guttural as possible. All of you practice that. And whatever you do, don’t use any of our real names. I did a little research and found some names of Raymond Lombardo’s associates. If for whatever reason we need to talk to each other I’ll be Ray, Joel, you’re Tony, Shrini, you’re Vinnie, Eric, you’re Sal, and Gordon, you’re Charlie.”

“Why do I have to be Charlie?” Gordon asked. “Why can’t we pick our own names?”

“I fucking give up,” Joel spat out. “He’s nothing but a goddamned infant.”

“Relax, okay?” said Dan. “He’s just doing a riff on
Reservoir Dogs.
”

Gordon’s belly bounced up and down under his overalls as he laughed at his joke. A glint in his eyes showed there were still hard feelings from before and this was partly payback for that. “What’s wrong with you, Joel, too much high-octane before we got here? Jeez, lighten up, guy. Take that stick out of your ass.”

“Gordon, it’s been an absolute pleasure not working with you the last seven years. Too bad we have to break that streak now.”

“Same here, Joel.”

Joel ignored him and turned to Dan. “Eric and I are going to be using assault rifles to keep control in the bank. Nothing like looking down the barrel of a Kalashnikov to shut you up. You three are going to be carrying Smith & Wesson forty-five caliber pistols. They’re good guns and they’re made right here in the USA.”

“I don’t need a gun.”

“Sure you do. All three of you do. No fucking way I’m going into that bank otherwise.”

“Dan, I have to agree with your friend,” Shrini said.

“We’re going to be in and out of that bank in ten minutes. There’s not going to be any shooting. No one is firing any guns. Shrini and I don’t need them.”

Joel took his ski mask off. “Let me explain something to you, pal,” he said, his black eyes smoldering. “When we walk into that bank, this gets serious. All bets are off. You may not want to shoot anyone, but if a cop ends up wandering into that bank he’s sure as hell going to want to shoot you. Or me. I’m only willing to do this if you’re prepared to do what it takes. And that means backing me up and shooting someone if you need to. Obviously, nobody wants that to happen, but we have to be ready for it.”

Dan turned to Shrini and Gordon. They had both taken their masks off. “The weasel’s right,” Gordon said.

“I don’t even know how to use a gun,” Dan said weakly.

“Typical Massachusetts liberal,” Joel sneered. “Expect others to fight your battles for you. Not this time, buddy boy. I have my own private shooting range dug out in the basement. I’m going to teach you how to fire a gun. And I want to see how your two buddies do also. All of you, downstairs now.”

Joel led the way down to the basement. When they got there, Joel picked up a Kalashnikov AK-47 rifle and admired it. “Eric and I have to get two of these babies into the bank. How long will it take us to get from the parking lot to the front lobby door?”

“Maybe ten seconds running.”

“I could try hiding this in my pant leg, but I don’t see much point. Five guys entering a bank in overalls and ski masks will be suspicious whether or not we’re carrying these Kalashnikovs.”

He put the rifle down and unlocked a cabinet, taking out a handgun and a box of shells. After handing out cheap earplugs, he put a more expensive set of earmuffs on himself. A narrow alley of about forty feet ran the length of the basement. At the end of it was a target attached to a large dirt pile. Gordon held out his hand to Joel.

“You want me to go over how to use this first?” Joel asked.

“Just hand me the gun and some shells.”

Joel did as asked. Gordon slid out the magazine, loaded it, then, snapping the magazine back in place, he held out the gun as he weighed it in his hand for a few seconds, and then squeezed off five rounds. Joel squinted as he peered towards the targets. “Three bullseyes, two near bullseyes,” he muttered. “Nice shooting.”

“A little rusty,” Gordon said. “You can’t blame me. It’s been over thirty years since I fired a gun.” He handed the weapon back to Joel.

Joel went over the basics with Shrini and Dan, showing them how to hold the gun and how to use the front and rear sights to line up a target. Shrini learned quickly. By his fourth round he started hitting the target. Dan just couldn’t see the damn thing. He was having trouble focusing, the targets blurring into the dirt wall. He went through two magazines and missed wildly.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Joel asked. “Are you blind?”

“It’s too dark down here,” Dan said.