Forty-Three

Andrea and Gerhard opted to keep a low profile after their run-in with the cop. No more hospital visits for now. And just when they were so close to finding Billy Finster's wife.

Andrea had wanted to ditch the Audi. What if the cop had spotted the license plate? Failing that, what if she checked CCTV footage from along that route and got it that way? Gerhard didn't want to ditch his car, and besides, he reminded her, the car already had stolen plates on it. Anyone who ran a check would be led to some guy in New Haven with a 2018 Malibu. He'd swipe another set of plates, slap them on.

Which was what he did, unscrewing the plates off a blue Golf GTI and bolting them onto the Audi.

"Anyway," he said, "there's only about a thousand black Audis in this part of Connecticut." He shot her a look. "But just one with a cigarette burn in the hood."

"You should have run her down," Andrea said. "If it'd been me driving, that's what I'd've done."

"Then we would have to ditch the car, her brains all over the windshield."

Andrea, sitting in the passenger seat, shrugged. "Good thing I had her shoes. Speedy."

It was about the only positive spin she could put on the situation. Tracking down Billy's wife, Lucy, was now much more difficult. Not only were the cops looking for her, that detective knew they were looking for her. But they needed to find her. It made sense that she was the one who'd helped herself to the carry-on bag. This was no longer a case of someone skimming a little off the top. This was the entire weekly shipment. It was their asses on the line here. If they didn't recover that case, there was going to be a little delegation flying up from south of the border to have a word. Followed, perhaps, by a bullet to the head.

Gerhard turned the car into a strip mall parking lot, killed the engine, turned to look at Andrea.

"Let me run something by ya," he said.

Andrea waited.

"You got anything put aside? If you do, you might want to consider your options. I have some stashed away. We don't find that case in the next twenty-four hours, it's gonna get ugly. I know a guy, can fix us up with new IDs, shit like that. Passports, whatever. I'm thinking, Germany. I got people there."

"You go where you got people, they'll find you," she said.

"I could regroup when I got there, go someplace else."

"Don't worry about me," Andrea said.

"You need a plan."

"Maybe I have one. What makes you think I'm dumb enough to share it with you?"

Gerhard made a clicking noise with this tongue. "Fine."

"I don't need your protection."

"Fine, okay. Forget I mentioned it."

"Maybe I'll just tell them it was you took the shit." She smiled slyly.

"You got a fucked-up idea of what's funny."

"You think I'm being funny? Maybe a better idea would be for you to put on your big boy pants and find that fucking bag."

"And what would you suggest we—"

Gerhard's phone rang. He got it out of his pocket and raised his eyebrows when he saw the name on the screen.

BILLY.

He turned the phone so Andrea could see it before she even asked.

"Don't answer it," she said.

"Gotta."

"Could be the cops. They'd have his phone. They're going through the numbers."

Gerhard's cell continued to ring.

"If it is, they've already got my fucking number because they're calling it. What if it's the wife? What if she took his phone?"

Andrea let that sink in. "She wants to make a deal. She wants to sell it back to us. Answer the fucking thing."

Gerhard tapped the screen, put it on speaker. "Yeah?"

"Hey," said a male voice on the other end. "This who I think it is?"

Gerhard and Andrea exchanged glances. Definitely not the wife.

"I don't know," said Gerhard. "Who the fuck do you think it is?"

"You're one of the ones Billy dealt with. That he held the stuff for."

"Who is this?"

"Not important. What's important is what I can do for you."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm guessing you're missing something."

"What about it?"

"Wondered if you'd like it back."

"How would we go about making that happen?"

"We set something up," the man at the other end said. "A handoff."

"That... would be greatly appreciated."

"I'm guessing what's in this is worth a lot of money."

Andrea made a face, like she'd been waiting for this.

"What are you proposing?" Gerhard asked.

"I'll sell it back to you. Got to be worth, what? A million? Two million?"

"I'm afraid that's a little out of our price range."

"I'm not looking for that. Just, like, a finder's fee."

"I see. What were you thinking?"

"A hundred."

Gerhard looked ready to laugh, but Andrea raised a cautious finger. For the first time, she spoke. "We can offer you fifty."

"Who's this?"

Andrea ignored the question. "Fifty. You've got five seconds to decide. One... two—"

"Okay," the caller said. "Fifty."

Andrea said, "Done."

Gerhard gave her a look, as if to say, Are you kidding me?

"I'll get back to you on when and where," the caller said. And then he was gone.

Gerhard said, "You got fifty grand up your ass?"

"I don't have fifty fucking cents," she said.

She'd already figured out how this would have to be handled. They'd get the bag back from this guy and kill him. But what was really on her mind was Gerhard's backup plan, that the two of them would run off together to Germany and start new lives.

That was never gonna happen.