Blood Money полностью

It was, of course, much more than a hunch. Nolan knew it was possible that a pro thief had pulled the job, some heistman down on his luck who needed ready cash and knew Planner’s safe in the back room usually had a good piece of change in it. But it was unlikely as hell. Maybe in sheer desperation, but otherwise Nolan couldn’t see a professional hitting Planner: you don’t hit one of your own. The old guy had virtually no enemies in the trade, and was a valued friend of everyone who knew him and made use of him.

And right there was another reason: Planner had too many friends to risk stealing from him. Whoever pulled this had ripped off not only Planner, but maybe a dozen professionals who’d entrusted emergency money to Planner’s safekeeping. What it came down to was this: let it leak you were the one who wasted Planner, a hundred guys would drop the hammer on you.

An amateur, then?

No. Someone outside the trade was even more unlikely. Why would some amateur pick an antique shop to knock over, and a shabby one at that? If he did, how would he know about that safe, way back in the second of two storerooms? No, an amateur would probably just empty the cash register and run.

Most important, nobody — nobody outside of Nolan, Jon and Planner — knew an eight-hundred-thousand-buck haul from a bank job was nestled in that safe. Very few people knew for sure Nolan had pulled that particular job, and no one would likely figure he’d leave the money with Planner.

Except maybe Charlie.

Charlie might’ve figured it.

Charlie not only knew that Nolan had pulled the bank heist, he also knew Nolan had been wounded after the robbery and wounded badly, because it was Charlie and his people who shot Nolan, in that fucking double cross Charlie pulled. He would’ve known Nolan would have to hole up close by. He would’ve known Nolan hadn’t had the time or health to get properly rid of the money; he could’ve figured that the money had stayed right there where Nolan was holing up. Charlie could’ve used his vast Family resources to investigate Nolan’s working habits, his associates, especially in the immediate area, to determine precisely where Nolan was hiding, sooner or later coming up with Planner.

When the Family started negotiating with Nolan, a Nolan who was still just getting on his feet, Charlie’s inside sources (the same people within the Family who helped Charlie “die”) could’ve relayed word to him that Nolan was resisting transfer of the money. And Nolan had told Felix and others who pressed moving the money to a Family bank, “I’m not sweating the money’s safety. It’s been okay where it is this long and a while longer won’t make a difference.” Perhaps these words of Nolan’s (foolish words, he knew now) had gotten back to Charlie.

But Charlie was dead.

Sure.

That auto-wreck business had smelled to Nolan from word go, but he’d wanted Charlie to be dead so bad he’d accepted it. Even then he’d questioned Felix, who had told him that this pretense of an accident was a necessity, that Charlie was simply too high in the Family to die anything but a “natural” death.

Sure.

That was where the hunch part did come in. Deep down in Nolan’s gut, Charlie didn’t feel dead. Nolan had ignored the tingle in his gut, chalking it up to all that time the feud with Charlie had lasted, figuring there was bound to be mental residue left after all the emotional and physical violence Charlie had caused him over the years. But now with Planner dead and the money, all that money stolen, Nolan was listening to everything his gut had to say.

So how could Felix be expected to understand? This was a complex chain of logic intertwined with instinct and was something an attorney in a tailored suit could never comprehend.

“When are you going to get started?” Felix was asking.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Not tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning. Tonight I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Whatever you think is best, I suppose. Nolan?”

“What?”

“Why is it you haven’t told me just where the hell in Iowa the scene was of this afternoon’s fiasco?”

“Because you already checked with the switchboard to see where the long distance call was from.”

“Oh. Don’t you think it would be wise to get to Iowa City as soon as possible and start investigating?”

“Felix.”

“What?”

“I asked for two days and you said I could have them.”

“Right, but that doesn’t mean...”

“Felix.”

“What?”

“How can I put this? Felix. You’re full of shit.”

Felix drew a breath. “Am I really?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re a lawyer, Felix. Don’t tell me how to handle the sort of thing you know nothing about, okay? I get married and want a divorce, I’ll come to you.”

“You’re tense, Nolan,” Felix said tensely. “I’m going to forget you’ve said this.”

“I don’t give a damn what you do. You’re just a goddamn lawyer.”

“Just a goddamn lawyer...”