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
“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
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