trouble, but what if you start to think? Why take some small fee when you can have the whole ten million? Tax free. What if you think you can just run off with it, rip off a bunch of stupid foreigners, and disappear?â
âAh, shit.â The room felt too small, too tight. Even Myers had to stand up. Hands in pockets, he walked over to the window and stared across at the brick wall.
âThese people,â he said, âtheyâre psycho-killers with international connections. Fearless, well-indoctrinated, with goals and a purpose that goes beyond people. Mr. Rosario might have picked the wrong people to fuck with. It could be theyâre tracking him down right now, him and everyone heâs connected with. This guy has really botched it up for us. Weâve been following this money trail for months now. If they get him, we could lose all of it. The money, the trail, the people it would have all led us to.â
âMaybe the money already got where it was going,â I said.
âNo. It never got there. We know where it goes and it hasnât reached point A. Mr. Rosario was just a pathway. He was not the final destination. This guy ⦠Spook.â The way the name bubbled off his lips made him grin a moment, before his face creased up again. I read it like concern for Spook. All of a sudden that sick feeling, an old adrenalin kick from those âfirst loveâ years. That feeling that YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE. That YOU have been chosen by providence to be at the right place at the right time to make that one special move. And maybe it was one of those big lies coming round to get believed in again. Or maybe it was just the goddamned truth. Staring me in the face as much as Myers. My destiny. My beginning or my end.
âI really need to find Spook,â he said.
My stomach was burning. My ears, my head. I stood up too. Fished out my cheap-ass lighter and stepped out through the window.
âI think itâs time for a cigarette,â I said.
8.
blurry like this: swishy sudden camera movements at close range. shaky like hand-held. jump-cuts in elevator going down. heavy usage of drugs indicated, or: bad dream. to shake off one image replaced by another. to shake off another image replaced by
he was there when the elevator doors opened, standing by the reception desk. looked amazingly well-pressed in his business suit, business suit, what dirty stinking business was it? he looked at his watch when he saw her. as if he would dock her.
âwhat are you doing here? like she would walk right by him.
âI didnât come to see you, he said. had a way of chewing gum that brought some film to mind. robert blake, in cold blood. tapping with two fingers on the furry armrest.
âbut you said you wouldnât, she said.
âbut you said you would help me, he said. you said youâd get back to me. itâs been three long days. you canât expect the federal government to sit on its ass and wait for you to finish doing your makeup. the wheels are turning. if something bad happens, no, donât turn away. if something bad happens, itâs your fault.
âIâm working on it, she said. itâs taking time. I need more time.
âtime isnât something we have.
âIâll talk to him about it today. I promise.
âwell, Iâve been waiting fifteen minutes already and he hasnât come in. you donât think maybe he got a tip from somebody, do you? you donât think maybe he ran off?
âheâs not guilty of anything. he has no reason to run.
âsince when is he the type to be late like this?
(he took out a cigarette. had just about every type of smokable tobacco squirreled everywhere he could reach.)
âthereâs no smoking in here, she said.
his kiss tasted like curdled milk.
they were in an alley. service entrance stink. wire gates. packing crates. his hands squeezed her arms hard. she closed her
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