“Thanks, baby.”
“You bet.”
Paul stood at the window and watched her drive away. The mansion was quiet. No one was following her. She’d done exceptional work. All they had to do now was sell the bonds back to Lansing, ten cents on the dollar. Not as much money as they might have hoped for, but no muss, no fuss. They’d be out of town before tomorrow and on vacation for the next few months.
He lowered the window and turned back into the apartment. Time to get out of here. The Everets always got home from work shortly after 5:00 p.m. The sniper rifle case lay open on the dining room table. He disassembled the rifle into the case, pressing each part into its foam cutout. As he closed the lid, he felt his smartphone vibrate. Text message. He’s on to you. He knows where you’re staying. He’s sending a team. Paul slipped his phone back into his pants pocket. Jessie was right. No problem. Plenty of time to get ready.
An hour later, up in a high-rise condo overlooking the city, Paul and Jessie weren’t lying in bed drinking margaritas and toasting their success, or standing on the balcony watching the traffic far below, or even making the phone call to set up the money swap. No, they were sitting at the dining room table, watching the screen on a laptop computer. Paul had his smartphone in his hand.
On the computer, they heard the door being kicked in and saw four men rush into the apartment on South Elm, guns blazing. Paul input 911. He put on a panicked voice. “Help. Home invasion. 3417 South Elm, apartment nine. We’re hiding in the bedroom closet.” He ended the call.
They watched the men moving through the apartment, spraying bullets into the rooms before they entered.
Jessie patted his hand. “What’s the response time to that apartment?”
“First response should be four minutes. It’s a shame we can’t stay and watch.”
“I know I usually bitch about the three-way split with the inside man, but this time he’s earning every penny.”
“We’ll never know what tipped Lansing, or why he let you walk away,” Paul said.
“Wanted to catch you.”
“Maybe he couldn’t quite believe that you’d do it.”
“Dreamer.”
Paul closed the laptop. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’m back now.” She kissed him. “Time to go.”
She grabbed up the briefcase containing the bearer bonds. They walked down the hall to the fire exit. Paul eased the fire door open and pointed his Glock down the stairwell. No ambush team was waiting for them. “Come on.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed through the emergency exit. Their black Ford Explorer was still parked on the street. No one was challenging them. No one was shooting at them. “Four guys. Sent to the wrong address. I’m beginning to feel a little insulted.”
“Count your blessings.”
They climbed into the Explorer. Jessie got out her phone. “The clock is running. Lansing will be expecting a phone call from his guys in the next few minutes.”
Paul pulled away from the curb. “Then let’s not disappoint.”
She made the call. “Sugar?”
“What?” Lansing asked.
“We’ve still got the bonds. Your guys made a hell of a mess, if that’s any consolation.”
“What do you want?”
“Fifty thousand dollars, cash.”
“No way.”
“That’s ten cents on the dollar. Very generous and very doable. You need these bonds, and you’ve got that much cash in your safe.”
“I’m going to kill you and whoever you’re working with.”
“Maybe. But in the meantime, you’re going to meet us in thirty minutes at a location I’m going to text to you. You’re going to bring the cash, and you’re going to buy back these bonds. Unless you want to go to your client meeting with your dick in your hand. Of course, that might be interesting to watch. And honey pie, that’s just you, Tony, and the money. Anyone more, and I burn the bonds. See you soon.”
She turned to Paul. “We still going to the school?”
“Yeah, that one glitch doesn’t change anything, particularly with the tight timeline.”
They drove across town to the abandoned campus of Bright Futures Industrial College, a bankrupt for-profit university. Weeds were growing through the cracks in the parking lot. The walls were painted with elaborate graffiti and some of the windows were boarded up. The area back by the picnic tables was littered with fast-food trash and shattered beer bottles. They backed up to the garage door of the automotive repair department.
“You check the back, and I’ll check the front,” Paul said.
“I thought I was doing the swap.”
“That was before the glitch. I’d rather have you up high now. You’re a better shot than me, anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t even trying to sell that.”
“I’m not changing my mind. The sniper rifle is in the back.”
She picked the lock on the garage door, raised it, and carried the sniper rifle back though the gloom to the stolen Ford Focus that was parked at the garage door on the other side. The automotive repair department was empty except for some built-in tool tables, but it still smelled of oil and industrial cleanser. The Focus was just as they had left it. Shotguns laying in the front seat and their roller bags in the trunk. She left the trunk open. Then she climbed the stairs to the second-floor catwalk that ran the perimeter of the garage. At the front of the building, she set up the sniper rifle to cover the parking lot beyond the Explorer. She checked the magazine—it was full—and inserted it into the rifle before she got out her phone. “Honey, we’re good to go.”
“Text him.”
The sun was low, casting long shadows across the parking lot, when the blue BMW pulled into the lot and wound its way back to the automotive repair department. When it stopped, Paul got out of the Explorer wearing a Kevlar vest. A black ski mask covered his face, an assault rifle was slung over his right shoulder, his finger beside the trigger, and he had the briefcase in his left hand. Two men got out of the BMW, Lansing and Tony. Lansing carried a satchel. Tony wore a Kevlar vest over his shirt and tie. A pistol was holstered at his hip.
“The bonds in there?” Lansing asked.
“Your boy stays where he is. He holds his hands at head height. You come forward to the bumper of the Explorer. He moves, I kill you first.”
Tony raised his hands. Lansing started forward, then stopped. His mouth fell open. “My God. It’s you. You’re Paul Longmont. Buying the bonds was just a scam so you could steal them.”
Paul dropped the briefcase and held the assault rifle in both hands. “Keep moving. Keep moving if you want to live.”
Lansing walked up to front bumper of the Explorer.
“Put the satchel on the hood and open it.”
“Show me the bonds.”
“First things first. The bonds are worthless to me—too hard to cash. You’re the only one who wants them. Put the satchel on the hood.”
Lansing opened the satchel. Paul saw bundles of one hundred-dollar bills.
“Step back.”
Lansing stepped back from the Explorer. Paul tossed the briefcase to him. Lansing caught it in both arms. Paul raked his left hand through the money in the satchel. It was all there. Lansing opened the case and thumbed through the bonds. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you both.”
“Another day,” Paul said. He picked up the satchel and started backing toward the garage door. Tony reached for his gun. Jessie put a round in the asphalt at his feet. He stopped reaching. Paul pulled down the garage door. Jessie put another round in the asphalt and watched as Lansing and Tony got back into their BMW and drove back through the parking lot. Then she scrambled down the stairs with the rifle to meet Paul at the Ford Focus. She tossed the rifle into the trunk and slammed it shut while Paul raised the garage door. They rolled out into an alley and turned left onto a side street behind the college.
In town traffic w
as light. In a few minutes they were on the freeway headed north. No one was tailing them. Paul pulled off at the first rest stop. Three semitrucks were parked in the rest lane and five cars were parked in front of the information center. A red Subaru Forester was parked next to the dog-walking area at the far end of the parking lot. They pulled in beside it. A skinny Latino dressed in gym clothes got out of the Subaru and climbed into the back seat of the Ford Focus.
“Roberto,” Paul said, “thanks for the heads up.”
“Hey, man, I wasn’t getting paid if I let him kill you.”
Jessie smiled. “Fifty thousand. Five thousand for expenses leaves forty-five thousand, divided by three makes your end fifteen thousand.” She counted out the money into a grocery bag and passed it back to him. “Count it.”
He thumbed through the money, smiled and nodded. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
Paul studied him carefully. “I don’t have to tell you what will happen if he finds out you screwed him.”
“He’s not finding out. I’m going to trickle this money out.”
“Good luck.”
Roberto climbed out of the car. Paul and Jessie watched him drive away. Then Paul pulled off his tactical gear and tossed it into the back seat, while Jessie put the $35,000 in a shopping bag. They took their roller bags from the trunk and crossed the parking lot to the information center. A mom with two grade schoolers was standing in front of the vending machines.
“Need anything?” Paul asked.
Jessie shook her head. She stuffed the empty satchel into a trash can. They rolled their bags out into the parking lot on the other side of the information center. Their gray Cadillac was parked on the far side of the lot away from the building. Paul pressed his key fob. The trunk opened. He took out his phone. “Billy? Got a pickup for you. Blue Ford Focus full of prime gear. Rest stop just north of Madisonville.”
“I’ll put the trade-in value on your tab.”
“Thanks.”
He put his phone away. They loaded their roller bags and the shopping bag into the trunk. Just as he shut the lid, he heard a voice calling to him.
He turned. An old, bald man with a bushy white mustache, wearing a wrinkled seersucker suit, was walking toward them. He spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, kid.”
Paul shook his head slowly. “Koenig. Why aren’t you dead?”
“That’s what I’ve always liked about you, straight to the point. Not surprised to see me. No how you doing.”
“We were just leaving.”
“Who is this guy?” Jessie asked.
“He never told you about me?” Koenig asked. “I raised him from a pup. Fed him from my hand until he was old enough to earn his way.”
“What do you want?” Paul asked.
“That was a nice little job you pulled. Not very many moving parts. Only one wrench in the works. The shot-up apartment was a little much, but you were never afraid to make change- ups on the fly.”
“How long you been dogging us?”
“Long enough to see if you still had the juice.”
“So I guess this means you’re convinced.”
“I’m putting a job together.”
“We’re going on vacation.”
“This is a high-dollar, once-in-a-lifetime score. I need the best.” He held his jacket open and turned in a circle. “I’m on the up-and-up. Let’s eat some supper. My treat. You don’t like what you hear, you walk away. But I’m telling you, you’re going to like what you hear.”
Paul gestured toward a white Toyota Highlander. “That yours?”
Koenig nodded.
“We’ll follow you. If we’re still behind you when you get to the restaurant, we’ll come in.”
They followed the Highlander out of the rest stop. It was dark now, and rush hour was long over, but plenty of aggressive drivers were still jockeying through the lanes. “Anyone following us?”
Jessie turned in her seat. “No,” she said. “But I didn’t know that guy had been watching us the last few days.”
“I know.”
She looked down the highway toward the Highlander for a moment, and then turned to Paul. “You don’t like that guy.”
“It’s not about like or don’t like. You’ve never met a manipulator like him. He’s like the snake in the Garden of Eden. It doesn’t matter what he says or how much he helps you, he’s got no principles. It’s always part of a complex plan that benefits only him.”
“Did he really bring you up? Take you under his wing, like you did for me?”
“Not like I did for you.”
“But he was your mentor?”
“Remember I told you my folks were messed up? That they landed in jail, and I ran away from the foster home?”
“Yeah.”
“He found me mopping up in a bar. He became my ‘dad,’ used me until I figured him out. By then I knew enough to find crews on my own. Flash forward to that sunny day when I spotted you. We shouldn’t even be going to this meeting.”
“Then why are we?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I just want to see if I can resist him, see through his game, screw him over.”
“Who told me dick-measuring contests were one of the quickest ways to end up screwed?”
“I know. Maybe I should have just shot him in the parking lot.”
They followed the Highlander into the gravel parking lot of the Holiday Barbeque. The flashing neon sign attached to the roof had two dead spots that made it flash Ho day beque. There were more than a dozen cars in the lot, but there were several empty spots at the front of the building. Inside, the restaurant smelled of hickory smoke and stale beer. Country top forty blasted from the sound system. The hostess sat them at a four top in the back corner: Paul, Jessie, Koenig, and a tall man with slicked-back blond hair. Their waitress—a skinny, middle-aged woman wearing dangling earrings and a black apron over her T-shirt and jeans—brought water and menus.
“Who’s this guy?” Paul asked.
“He’s Raymond,” Koenig said. “He drives for me.”
“And what’s your name?” Raymond asked.
Paul smiled. “Your boss didn’t tell you? We don’t have names.”
“That’s kind of inconvenient, isn’t it?”
“For who?” Paul turned to Koenig. “So how did you find us?”
“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. Let’s just say we use a number of the same vendors.”
Paul scanned the room, studying the other diners, the movement of the servers, the feel of the Holiday Barbeque experience. This place was certainly noisy enough for a private conversation. And the other diners—couples and threesomes mainly—were certainly chomping away with gusto, but there was something about this restaurant that just wasn’t normal.
Their waitress returned. She pulled a pad from her apron. “What’ll it be?”
Koenig started. “I’ll have the small rib plate, no sides, and a tap beer.”
“Give me the barbeque sandwich combo,” Raymond said.
Jessie smiled. “Nothing for me.”
The waitress turned to Paul.
“Just coffee.”
The waitress left the table. Paul took another look around and then tapped his hand on the table. “Now I get it. This place is mobbed up.”
Koenig shrugged.
“You pay protection?”
“Friends of friends.”
“So why have you gone to all this trouble to find me?”
“I’m getting too old for the game. Don’t laugh. It’s true. I’ve put one last job together to fill out my retirement money. This is a once-in-a-lifetime, totally impossible sleight of hand. People in the know will be talking about this for years to come.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve got all my players in place. But two of my inside people—clean for years—relapsed. Can’t wait for them to clean up. Hell, I don’t know if I could trust them now, anyway. So I need a couple of top-notch operators. That’s w
here you come in. I could have made do with my other people, but you know me, I like all the positions filled. So I figured why not ask the kid? All he can do is say no. He’s no fool. He’ll know a sweet job when he sees it.”
“So what’s the job?”
“You’ll work undercover about a month. You’ll prep the field of play with another couple—you know, scout the layout, collect door and safe codes, figure out the timelines. No risk at all for you, and you take home one hundred thousand. Bet you can’t say you made near that much on that little run-and-gun you just got out of. You say you’re in, I’ll tell you the details.”
The waitress brought their drinks.
Paul looked from Koenig to Raymond and back. He felt a queasy fluttering in his belly—like he was about to do something he’d regret for a long time. “Tomorrow. I’ll let you know something tomorrow.”
“Excellent. There’s a Perkins on Seventh Street. We’ll meet for breakfast at eight o’clock.”
“If we’re in, we’ll be there,” Paul said. He turned to Jessie. “Let’s go.”
They drove back into Madisonville to the first interchange, went through a Taco Delight drive-through to get some dinner, and checked into a Budget Inn. The parking in front of their room was full, so they ended up parked under the Budget Inn sign. They rolled their bags across the parking lot to their room.
Once inside, Jessie lifted her bag onto the bed nearest the door. “We shouldn’t even be in this state. Lansing will be gunning for us. Besides, you already said that the old man can’t be trusted. The money is just too good for the work he sketched out.”
Paul shut the motel room door. “You’re right on both counts. I should have said no, but I didn’t.”
He left his bag by the door and sat down on the bed closest to the bathroom. She sat down beside him. “What’s up with you?”
“This is going to sound crazy. But you know that thing where you find yourself falling back into an old relationship that isn’t you anymore? You go back to your old neighborhood, and instead of being the person you are now, you’re the runt who’s always being picked on. Or you go to see your mom, and she asks you to do something, and you don’t want to do it, and you can’t tell her it’s bullshit. You know what I’m talking about?”
The Casino Switcheroo Page 2
