detached manner of a man on a blind date. ‘With the fifty I just brought in, I mean. Can you make up the difference, or . . . ?’
‘Not at present, no. We’re still a good twenty Gs short.’
‘Christ.’
‘Yeah. Bummer.’
Sinnott looked to see if he’d meant the comment as a joke, but as Cross poured bourbon over ice into a glass for himself, there was nothing on his face to suggest as much.
‘So what now?’
‘I don’t know. Stall for time, maybe? Have Ben talk to Ruben to see if he’ll grant us an extension.’
‘An extension?’ Sinnott finished off his drink and immediately went to work fixing himself another, an act that by now had become an automatic reflex to him. ‘Perry, this is an assassin for a Mexican drug family we’re talking about, not a loan officer for B of A.’
‘Business is business. Doesn’t matter where the money comes from. And just because he’s supposed to be crazy, that doesn’t mean he can’t be reasonable. We give him two thirty now and promise to deliver the remaining twenty in thirty days, plus interest, why shouldn’t he find that acceptable?’
‘Because that’s not what we agreed to do. We gave the man our word he’d get his full quarter million back by Friday. If we don’t do that—’
‘What’s he going to think? That we’re stiffing him? This guy who jams ice picks through people’s heads, if Ben is to be believed? I doubt we look that stupid to him, Will. Ruben will understand. He’ll have to.’
‘And when he asks why we don’t have the full two hundred fifty thou? What do we tell him?’
Cross rolled the ice cubes around in his glass, said, ‘We tell him what he’s probably heard from a hundred other business associates lately: The world economy’s been in the toilet for two years, with the US stock market leading the way. As a result, we’ve suffered a few unexpected losses that have left us a little short, but not so short we can’t pay him an additional thirty grand in thirty days if he’d be willing to wait. How the hell could he argue with that?’
Sinnott shook his head and shrugged, growing tired of testing Cross’s powers of persuasion. He left his stool at the bar for an armchair, where he nursed his drink as if determined to make it last for hours. Amid their silence, the two men could hear Iris still knocking about in the bedroom, drawers slamming shut and pieces of luggage being bounced across the floor.
‘We should have never taken his money in the first place,’ Sinnott said. ‘And we should have never given Gillis ours.’
‘Fuck Gillis,’ Cross said, deflecting Sinnott’s implied accusation. ‘He got what he deserved.’
‘Maybe so. But he may get the last laugh yet. Jesus, Perry, why did they have to find his body so goddamn soon?’
‘Now or later, what’s the difference? They still have to ID it. And even then, what’s that to us? The asshole died of natural causes.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Chill out. You sound like Andy. We’ve got enough to worry about without worrying about fucking Gillis.’
‘Andy?’
‘You think you’re a nervous wreck? I’ve been trying to talk him down off the ledge ever since you sent that email around about Gillis’s body being found. He’s convinced that guy he had the car accident with is going to do like Ben said and report it to the cops. What was his name? Roddick?’
‘Reddick. Joseph Reddick,’ Sinnott said.
‘I told him, so what if Reddick goes to the cops? They’ll take the report and forget about it. If they had some reason to believe Gillis was murdered, they might give a shit about some guy driving like an idiot near the spot where his body turned up. But Gillis wasn’t murdered .’
‘Not technically, no,’ Sinnott said. ‘But he died during the commission of a crime. A crime that we committed.’
‘And do the cops know that, Will?’
‘No. I mean, I don’t think they do.’
‘They don’t. There’s no way they could. Gillis’s
‘Not at present, no. We’re still a good twenty Gs short.’
‘Christ.’
‘Yeah. Bummer.’
Sinnott looked to see if he’d meant the comment as a joke, but as Cross poured bourbon over ice into a glass for himself, there was nothing on his face to suggest as much.
‘So what now?’
‘I don’t know. Stall for time, maybe? Have Ben talk to Ruben to see if he’ll grant us an extension.’
‘An extension?’ Sinnott finished off his drink and immediately went to work fixing himself another, an act that by now had become an automatic reflex to him. ‘Perry, this is an assassin for a Mexican drug family we’re talking about, not a loan officer for B of A.’
‘Business is business. Doesn’t matter where the money comes from. And just because he’s supposed to be crazy, that doesn’t mean he can’t be reasonable. We give him two thirty now and promise to deliver the remaining twenty in thirty days, plus interest, why shouldn’t he find that acceptable?’
‘Because that’s not what we agreed to do. We gave the man our word he’d get his full quarter million back by Friday. If we don’t do that—’
‘What’s he going to think? That we’re stiffing him? This guy who jams ice picks through people’s heads, if Ben is to be believed? I doubt we look that stupid to him, Will. Ruben will understand. He’ll have to.’
‘And when he asks why we don’t have the full two hundred fifty thou? What do we tell him?’
Cross rolled the ice cubes around in his glass, said, ‘We tell him what he’s probably heard from a hundred other business associates lately: The world economy’s been in the toilet for two years, with the US stock market leading the way. As a result, we’ve suffered a few unexpected losses that have left us a little short, but not so short we can’t pay him an additional thirty grand in thirty days if he’d be willing to wait. How the hell could he argue with that?’
Sinnott shook his head and shrugged, growing tired of testing Cross’s powers of persuasion. He left his stool at the bar for an armchair, where he nursed his drink as if determined to make it last for hours. Amid their silence, the two men could hear Iris still knocking about in the bedroom, drawers slamming shut and pieces of luggage being bounced across the floor.
‘We should have never taken his money in the first place,’ Sinnott said. ‘And we should have never given Gillis ours.’
‘Fuck Gillis,’ Cross said, deflecting Sinnott’s implied accusation. ‘He got what he deserved.’
‘Maybe so. But he may get the last laugh yet. Jesus, Perry, why did they have to find his body so goddamn soon?’
‘Now or later, what’s the difference? They still have to ID it. And even then, what’s that to us? The asshole died of natural causes.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Chill out. You sound like Andy. We’ve got enough to worry about without worrying about fucking Gillis.’
‘Andy?’
‘You think you’re a nervous wreck? I’ve been trying to talk him down off the ledge ever since you sent that email around about Gillis’s body being found. He’s convinced that guy he had the car accident with is going to do like Ben said and report it to the cops. What was his name? Roddick?’
‘Reddick. Joseph Reddick,’ Sinnott said.
‘I told him, so what if Reddick goes to the cops? They’ll take the report and forget about it. If they had some reason to believe Gillis was murdered, they might give a shit about some guy driving like an idiot near the spot where his body turned up. But Gillis wasn’t murdered .’
‘Not technically, no,’ Sinnott said. ‘But he died during the commission of a crime. A crime that we committed.’
‘And do the cops know that, Will?’
‘No. I mean, I don’t think they do.’
‘They don’t. There’s no way they could. Gillis’s
Similar Books
