Read Online Frag Box by Richard A. Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

beneficiary. He even mentions his father, someplace up in the northern part of the state, so there can be no question of him merely forgetting that he had one. He mentions him, curses him, and excludes him. All very legal. You get everything, as you can see.”
    I stuffed the papers in the inside pocket of my suit coat without looking at them.
    “Besides his cardboard box and some occasional walking-around money, what does ‘everything’ consist of, exactly?”
    “Ah yes, well, therein lies the problem. I don’t honestly know, you see. Not exactly how much, and not where it is, either. I know he had something, because he paid my fee in cash and didn’t quibble about the amount. And he claimed to have something he called a frag box, which he said contained thirty thousand dollars, but I never saw it. Aren’t you going to read the will?”
    “What’s the point? Aren’t we exactly where we would have been if you had never talked to me?”
    “We most certainly are not. I have now delivered the will, as I am legally charged to do. That is not a trivial thing, you know. Don’t you at least want look at it?” He pointed with an index finger, looking as if he really wanted to pull the papers back out of my pocket.
    “Later, maybe. Tell me about this frag box thing.”
    “You realize, of course, that if you weren’t his sole heir, I wouldn’t be able to discuss it with you at all.”
    “But you just said that I am.”
    “And so you are, sir. Do you know what a frag pot is, by the way?”
    “I know what it was in Vietnam. Charlie told me.”
    “Enlighten me, if you would.”
    “Basically, it was a pile of money to pay for an assassination. Usually it was kept in an extra helmet, which is where the name ‘pot’ came in, but it could have been kept anywhere. When some troop had an officer who was really despised, they would start the collection. And every time the guy pissed somebody off again, a little more cash would get thrown in. When the pile was finally big enough to be worth risking a prison sentence, somebody would waste the officer in question and collect the reward. The preferred method of killing was with a grenade or a mine, which would leave no fingerprints or ballistic evidence.”
    “Aha. A fragmentary weapon, and hence the word ‘frag,’” said Mildorf, nodding.
    “I believe the word you want is ‘fragmentation.’”
    “Just so. Mr. Victor assumed I already knew all that, which made him a little hard to follow at times. Tell me, do you think this practice actually did happen?”
    “Some people say it was really quite common, especially toward the end of the war, when the morale was all in the toilet.”
    “Well, then, maybe the box is believable, too, who knows? Mr. Victor claimed to have a box in which he was accumulating money to buy a political assassination.”
    “Really? Did he say who the target was?”
    “He did not. And since it involved a criminal activity, I didn’t ask.”
    “But whomever it was for, now the money is all mine.”
    “Exactly so.”
    “But only if I can find it.”
    “Correct again. I think there were supposed to be some instructions to you in the box, as well. As his executor, it would be up to me to enforce them. But since I cannot ethically enforce an illegal behest, and since I don’t have the box anyway, I think it’s safe to say all that is moot. Unless, of course, you already have the box?”
    He took a large drink of his beer, which immediately reappeared as sweat on his forehead and cheeks. He took a tissue out of a back pocket and mopped at his brow. But through it all, he kept his eyes on me. If he was looking for a “tell,” I disappointed him utterly. Then his hamburgers arrived, he paid Lefty, and nothing else could compete for his attention for a while.
    “I don’t suppose you have any idea why Charlie didn’t tell me all this himself?”
    With his mouth full of hamburger and onions, he nodded absently, then looked around and held both