Outsourced

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 clammed up. He carried a kitchen chair to a spot near the wall so that he could lean back and sat with his arms folded across his chest. Shrini also seemed more reserved than usual as he sat quietly on the sofa.

Dan went over the details of the robbery. As he talked, Gordon closed his eyes, his head dropping towards his chest as if he were dozing off. Hoffer just kept nodding enthusiastically, his plastic grin firmly in place. Shrini sat quietly, attentive. Joel was beside himself. He kept looking over at Gordon, becoming more and more agitated. Finally, he had enough. He got up and kicked out one of the chair legs, almost sending Gordon and his chair crashing to the floor except that Gordon was able to fling his arms out and grab the wall and somehow maintain his balance. Breathing hard, he positioned his weight forward so that the chair’s front legs fell back to the floor.

“Schmuck,” Joel swore, his face white with anger. “You’re going to sleep through this? You think this is some sort of game?”

“What is your problem?” Gordon demanded. “You do something like that again and you’ll end up with my shoe up your ass, understand?”

“You fucking clown.”

Indignant, Gordon turned to Dan. “I don’t have to take this from that weasel. I’m out of here!”

“Weasel, huh?” Joel said. “I didn’t like it when you nicknamed me that at Vixox and I don’t like it any better now.”

Gordon stood up, his large fleshy hands balling into fists. “Then don’t act like one!”

“Joel, Gordon, for Chrissakes, both of you sit the fuck down,” Dan implored. “I know we’re all stressed out here. I mean, shit, whoever thought we’d be talking about a bank robbery. But let’s not ruin this over something stupid.”

Reluctantly, Gordon lowered himself back into his chair. Joel stood where he was.

Patiently, almost as if talking to a child, Dan asked Gordon to repeat what he had been saying before Joel acted like an asshole.

“You were explaining how after the robbery we’re going to sit on the money for several months to make sure it’s safe.”

Dan turned to Joel. “Joel, take a deep breath. We can do this if we just stay calm, okay?”

“Don’t fucking lecture me. I thought he was sleeping.”

“He wasn’t. He was paying attention, probably much more than you. Why don’t you get us some beers, see if we can relax a little.”

Joel looked like he was going to say something, but instead he clamped his mouth shut and left the room. Hoffer followed him. When they returned, the two of them handed out beers. Gordon grudgingly took his.

“I won’t charge for these,” Joel told Dan. “’Cause you’re right, I acted like an asshole. Next round, though, you pay for them.”

“Okay, Gordon,” Dan said, ignoring Joel. “This is as much of an apology as you’re ever going to get out of this guy. Are we all friends again? Or are we going to walk away from this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Gordon said. “I was just sitting here minding my own business.”

“You okay now, Joel?”

“Yeah, I’m just peachy. I got a question. Where are we going to keep the money while we’re sitting on it?”

“Two years ago I rented a storage locker to hold some old furniture. I got stuck with a five-year lease so I’m still holding on to it. I’m going to hide the money there.”

“Why do that? I have twenty acres up here. There’s plenty of places to hide the money. Why take the chance of having the police search your locker?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dan said.

“Famous last words. Let’s take a vote. Anyone else agree it makes more sense to hide the stuff here?”

Only Hoffer’s hand went up. Sneering, Joel gave a slow look around the room. “That’s the way it’s going to be, eh?” he asked. “You’re going to outvote me three to two on everything. Fine, I’ll just shut up, then.”

“Joel, if you don’t trust me, let’s end this right now.”

“Fuck you, I trust you. Let’s just move on, okay?”

“Good enough, we’ll move on.” Gordon and Shrini both sat stone-faced. Hoffer’s grin only grew wider, making him look more like a village idiot. Dan picked up the garbage bag he had carried into the house and dumped its contents on to the floor. Inside were work overalls, gloves and ski masks. He handed them out, asking if they’d try them on.

“I only got four sets of these,” Dan said to Hoffer. “I didn’t know that you were going to be along for this when I got them.”

“No problem there, chief. I have stuff at home I can use.”

“Anyone going to be able to recognize it?”

Hoffer shook his head. “Not a chance.” He sat on the sofa with his grin intact while the rest of them put on their outfits. With the overalls, ski masks, and gloves, they looked like they could be bank robbers instead of the odd collection of out-of-work software developers that they were. Gordon was studying Shrini. “We’re supposed to look like Italian mobsters, right?” he asked. “I’m going to have to put some makeup around Shrini’s eyes, lighten up his complexion somewhat. Or maybe he could wear sunglasses.”

“I think I’ll wear the sunglasses, dude,” Shrini answered.

“And what’s with the tape over the mouth hole?” Gordon asked.

“I’m hoping it helps muffle our voices.”

“What if one of us has a stuffed-up nose? We’d suffocate.”

“Come on, Gordon-”

“Well, I could always just talk like this,” Gordon said, imitating a Swedish accent.

“For Chrissakes,” Joel swore under his breath.

“When we’re in that bank it’s important that we talk as little as possible,” Dan said. “Only when absolutely necessary. And no foreign accents, okay? Just try to talk as low and guttural as possible. All of you practice that. And whatever you do, don’t use any of our real names. I did a little research and found some names of Raymond Lombardo’s associates. If for whatever reason we need to talk to each other I’ll be Ray, Joel, you’re Tony, Shrini, you’re Vinnie, Eric, you’re Sal, and Gordon, you’re Charlie.”

“Why do I have to be Charlie?” Gordon asked. “Why can’t we pick our own names?”

“I fucking give up,” Joel spat out. “He’s nothing but a goddamned infant.”

“Relax, okay?” said Dan. “He’s just doing a riff on Reservoir Dogs.”

Gordon’s belly bounced up and down under his overalls as he laughed at his joke. A glint in his eyes showed there were still hard feelings from before and this was partly payback for that. “What’s wrong with you, Joel, too much high-octane before we got here? Jeez, lighten up, guy. Take that stick out of your ass.”

“Gordon, it’s been an absolute pleasure not working with you the last seven years. Too bad we have to break that streak now.”

“Same here, Joel.”

Joel ignored him and turned to Dan. “Eric and I are going to be using assault rifles to keep control in the bank. Nothing like looking down the barrel of a Kalashnikov to shut you up. You three are going to be carrying Smith amp; Wesson forty-five caliber pistols. They’re good guns and they’re made right here in the USA.”

“I don’t need a gun.”

“Sure you do. All three of you do. No fucking way I’m going into that bank otherwise.”

“Dan, I have to agree with your friend,” Shrini said.

“We’re going to be in and out of that bank in ten minutes. There’s not going to be any shooting. No one is firing any guns. Shrini and I don’t need them.”

Joel took his ski mask off. “Let me explain something to you, pal,” he said, his black eyes smoldering. “When we walk into that bank, this gets serious. All bets are off. You may not want to shoot anyone, but if a cop ends up wandering into that bank he’s sure as hell going to want to shoot you. Or me. I’m only willing to do this if you’re prepared to do what it takes. And that means backing me up and shooting someone if you need to. Obviously, nobody wants that to happen, but we have to be ready for it.”

Dan turned to Shrini and Gordon. They had both taken their masks off. “The weasel’s right,” Gordon said.

“I don’t even know how to use a gun,” Dan said weakly.

“Typical Massachusetts liberal,” Joel sneered. “Expect others to fight your battles for you. Not this time, buddy boy. I have my own private shooting range dug out in the basement. I’m going to teach you how to fire a gun. And I want to see how your two buddies do also. All of you, downstairs now.”

Joel led the way down to the basement. When they got there, Joel picked up a Kalashnikov AK-47 rifle and admired it. “Eric and I have to get two of these babies into the bank. How long will it take us to get from the parking lot to the front lobby door?”

“Maybe ten seconds running.”

“I could try hiding this in my pant leg, but I don’t see much point. Five guys entering a bank in overalls and ski masks will be suspicious whether or not we’re carrying these Kalashnikovs.”

He put the rifle down and unlocked a cabinet, taking out a handgun and a box of shells. After handing out cheap earplugs, he put a more expensive set of earmuffs on himself. A narrow alley of about forty feet ran the length of the basement. At the end of it was a target attached to a large dirt pile. Gordon held out his hand to Joel.

“You want me to go over how to use this first?” Joel asked.

“Just hand me the gun and some shells.”

Joel did as asked. Gordon slid out the magazine, loaded it, then, snapping the magazine back in place, he held out the gun as he weighed it in his hand for a few seconds, and then squeezed off five rounds. Joel squinted as he peered towards the targets. “Three bullseyes, two near bullseyes,” he muttered. “Nice shooting.”

“A little rusty,” Gordon said. “You can’t blame me. It’s been over thirty years since I fired a gun.” He handed the weapon back to Joel.

Joel went over the basics with Shrini and Dan, showing them how to hold the gun and how to use the front and rear sights to line up a target. Shrini learned quickly. By his fourth round he started hitting the target. Dan just couldn’t see the damn thing. He was having trouble focusing, the targets blurring into the dirt wall. He went through two magazines and missed wildly.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Joel asked. “Are you blind?”

“It’s too dark down here,” Dan said.

“Don’t give me your excuses. It’s plenty light enough. When we’re in that bank you’re not going to be able to control how well lit the room is.” Joel gave Dan a hard look, his eyes dulling. He nodded to himself as if he understood he was dealing with damaged goods. “Just hand me that gun. I’ve let you waste enough shells. If we’re in that bank and you need to shoot, make sure you’re close enough to your target so you don’t blow my head off by mistake. Okay?”

The five of them went back upstairs. They finalized their plans and agreed on a time and location for them to meet before the robbery. As they were leaving, Gordon asked for the ski masks, suggesting that he could do something with them to help with their disguises.

Walking back to the car, Dan couldn’t shake a sense of uneasiness. It was almost as if when he breathed he could feel the uneasiness deep in his lungs. Kind of like a tingling sensation. Over the years he had gotten together many times with these people in different combinations for beers and to shoot the breeze. While this meeting had the same juvenile feel, they weren’t just bitching about pointy-haired managers and screwed-up projects. This was something that was going to change their lives. Something that once done, they wouldn’t be able to turn back from. He just prayed that it would work as planned and that there would be enough money to justify him losing a bit of his soul.

None of them seemed to feel like talking. Even Gordon sat quietly in the backseat, a somber expression darkening his face. When Dan let him out at his condo, Gordon told him he was going to spend a few days at the Jersey shore but he would be back by Tuesday night. After they pulled away, Dan asked Shrini what he thought.

“Your friend Joel is very excitable,” Shrini said.

“That’s one way of putting it. We could be kind and call him passionate. He’s not what worries me, though. What did you think of his buddy, Eric?”

“He looked like a small hog walking on two legs. Dude, something’s not quite right about him.”

Dan nodded, feeling his uneasiness now every time he exhaled. “So what do we do, call this off?”

“I still want to do this,” Shrini said. “Our plan makes too much sense not to go through with it. How about you?”

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Just a case of nerves, dude. Don’t think too much.”

“I’ll try not to.” Dan laughed. “Damn, I had been feeling pretty good about this. I don’t know, something about Joel and his buddy put me off.”

“Just nerves, dude. You’ll be fine.”

When they arrived at Shrini’s apartment, Dan joined him inside for a few shots of tequila. After his third shot, his uneasiness faded somewhat.

Dan pulled into his driveway a little before five and was surprised to see Carol’s car there. Usually she didn’t leave work until five. He found her sitting alone in the kitchen, an open bottle of wine on the table in front of her. Carol was not a big drinker, but it looked like several glasses had already been poured. She looked up at him, her eyes watery, her face pale and drawn. She told him she had been fired.

“They waited until four o’clock to tell me,” she said, almost as if in a daze. “They claim I’m being fired for cause. Because I was late for a meeting. All of three minutes late.”

“They’re firing you for that?”

“That’s what they’re claiming. The real reason’s because I happened to be standing nearby when Nancy told the senior partner to go screw himself. That little egotistical prick probably couldn’t stand the idea of having me around after that.”

Dan rubbed a hand across his jaw considering what Carol told him. “So fuck them,” he said. “You didn’t like it there anyway. You’ll look for another job, collect unemployment-”

“You don’t understand. I was fired, not laid off. They’re going to fight any unemployment claim I make.”

“Can they do that?”

“That’s what they’re doing. How can I fight an office full of lawyers?” As she looked at Dan, her blank expression gave way to hopelessness. She appeared utterly, completely lost. “Please tell me again that your interview went well.”

He stared at her for a moment before he remembered what she was referring to. “Yeah,” he said. ‘It seemed to go well. We’ll see next week. The follow-up is scheduled for next Thursday.”

“I don’t want to put pressure on you, but if you don’t get that job I don’t know what we’re going to do. We have no money coming in now and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to find another job. Other firms are going to know I’ve been fired.”

He struggled trying to think of something to say.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Whatever you do, don’t say everything’s going to be okay. Whatever you do, don’t say that. I’ll go insane if you do. I swear to God I will.”

Dan nodded. He fully accepted now that he was going to go through with the bank robbery. He couldn’t help feeling somewhat dead inside. “Where are the kids?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Brandon’s dad is taking Gary to a baseball game. Susie left a note that she’s with Julie and will be home by seven.” Carol showed a sad smile. “I need you to join me upstairs in the bedroom. Please, for the next hour try to be with me.”

He followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When they got to the bedroom, they both took their clothes off, neither of them saying a word. For that one hour he lost himself.