Apt opened them without checking for wires. The thought of Duques blowing up his anal-retentive-designed interior of his mansion was laughable. Inside the bags were hundred-dollar bills. Lots and lots and lots of them. Stacks upon stacks.
'I apologize for the cumbersome number of bills. I would have liked to wire it to the account of your choice, but I had a visit today from the authorities that makes that extremely impractical. Lawrence actually anticipated as much and had me make these arrangements as a precaution. I believe there's a note for you in the bag on the left.'
Apt opened it and slid out an expensive stationery card. Carl smiled at Lawrence's beautiful handwriting in his signature green ink. Carl, my most excellent friend,
Thank you. Only you could make my last days my best.
Never stop learning, Lawrence
'Mr. Berger wanted you to be happy, Carl,' Duques said in his ear. 'He always spoke of you so fondly.'
Apt lowered the phone to wipe a tear away with his thumb before tucking the note back in the money bag. He was beyond touched. The big guy had done the right thing after all. His good buddy had more than taken care of him. How could he have doubted it for even a second?
'Carl, before I forget. Mr. Berger left a message for you. He said, and I quote, you needn't bother with the last name on the list. End quote. Whatever that means. He said you'd understand.'
Apt thought about that. That didn't sound right. If anything, Lawrence had been most excited by the last name on his list. Did the Big L have a change of heart?
'You sure about that?' Apt said.
'He was quite emphatic about it. Consider your services rendered in full. Enjoy your reward. You've earned it. As this will be our final communication, it's been a pleasure knowing you.'
'You, too, Allen. I have just one question.'
'What's that?'
'Where do you keep the keys to the S Sixty-five?'
'My new car?' the lawyer sputtered. 'Why? That has nothing to do with these arrangements.'
'I thought we'd make a new arrangement.'
'I don't understand.'
'How's this?' Apt said. 'I get the S Sixty-five and you don't come home to a smoking crater where this palace used to be.'
There was a short silence.
'They're hanging on the back door to the butler's pantry,' Duques said and hung up.
'Pleasure doing business with you,' Apt said to the darkness as he backtracked toward the kitchen.
Chapter 97
There was a large crowd waiting out in front of the Sugar Bowl when I rolled past around eleven. A live band was playing tonight. It was the last concert of the summer, I remembered from a flyer. An up-and-coming band out of Ireland called the Gilroy Stompers was being touted as the next U2.
I thought Mary Catherine might like to go for a goof.
I parked and went inside the Bennett compound. The tiny house was still and quiet. I found Seamus asleep in front of the TV. Instead of waking him, I tossed one of the girls' pink Snuggies over him, then took out my phone and snapped a picture of him. I couldn't resist.
I peeked inside the door of the girls' room and smiled. There was more bed in the room than floor space. I stood for a moment, watching them sleep. The sight of them lying so peacefully warmed me in the way only being a parent can. While my day might have sucked, they'd managed to tack on another hopefully happy memory or two, grown another day older.
Who knows? Maybe they'd even grown a little stronger, a little more capable of dealing with this chaotic world they would one day inherit. I hoped so. I had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could get, the way things were going.
Kids could be challenging, oftentimes a downright pain in the ass, but in rare moments they made you see that maybe you were trying after all. Maybe you really were doing the best you could.
Stoked from my warm-and-fuzzy moment, I went into the kitchen, searching for a beer. I was popping open a can of Miller High Life when Mary Catherine came in from the back porch, a book and a blanket in her hands.
A smile started and spread wider and wider over my face as I stood staring at her. Beer foam spilled over onto my hand, and I kept smiling. I don't think I can properly describe how happy seeing her made me.
She was tan and glowing and looked fabulous.
'You look… fabulous,' I said.
'Yes, I do, Mike,' she said. 'Is that so surprising?'
'No. Fortuitous, is how I'd put it.'
'For who?'
I was speechless for the second time that night. I was really losing my touch.
'Hey, you want to hear some rock music at the Sugar Bowl?'
Mary smiled.
I smiled back.
'You wake up Seamus,' she said, rolling her Irish eyes. 'I'll get my flip-flops.'
Chapter 98
The safe house apt had rented on 29th Street between Lexington and Third was a small brick town house that actually had a one-car garage. After he coded open the box on the sidewalk, he drove the S65 in and closed the gate behind him. He left the convertible running as he grabbed the money-filled suitcases piled on the front seat. This wouldn't take long.
In the back of the loft-style space's bedroom closet, he took out a North Face knapsack. Inside were several driver's licenses and passports with his picture on them.
He'd paid a hundred thousand dollars for them to a Canadian counterfeiter who'd just gotten out of jail. They were excellent forgeries, virtually indistinguishable from the real thing. He'd picked up a few things from the Intel people he used to run with in his other life. Names of folks who could get you things. Guns. Documents. Whatever. It was all about the networking.
As he shouldered the bag of documents, he glanced at the bulging garment bag above it. In it were the clothing and equipment and research he'd done to prepare for his final hit. He stared at it for a second, regretfully. All that recon for nothing. A shame, he thought, heading outside. Oh, well. Next life.
Back inside the garage, he sat for a moment in the front seat of the S65, thinking. He'd been planning on heading down to New Orleans, where a pretty girl he'd gone to City College with was living, but now he wasn't so sure. He'd stirred up one hell of a hornet's nest here with all these killings. What if the news had gotten to her?
He finally decided to ditch that idea and head down the coast to Key West for some extended R amp; R. Dip his toe into the Gulf of Mexico until he figured out his next move. With the bulging suitcases beside him now, he could certainly take his time.
He hit the garage door and cranked the Benz. He sat in the car, listening to the purring thunder of its engine, as he stared out at the open road. It was a warm and lovely night. A haze hovered along the edges of the street
