Dave Zeltserman - Outsourced

“I can’t drive you to a hospital,” Dan said at last. “I’m already connected to the bank because of the security system. If I get connected to this, everything could blow up on us. Do you think you can wait until we get back and drive yourself?”

Shrini nodded, his teeth clenched tight.

“How are you going to explain this?”

Showing a bitter smile, he said, “I am going to tell the police that your friend shot me.”

“What?”

“I won’t give them his name. But I will describe him and give them his license plate number. I will tell them he shot me after a traffic dispute.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not? The police will arrest him. Then we can break into his house and take back our money.” Shrini stopped for a moment, his breathing labored. When he could, he added, “We will teach your peacock friend a lesson he’ll never forget.”

“Shrini, that paranoid son of a bitch probably has the money so well hidden we’d never find it.”

“I am willing to take that chance.”

Dan thought about the idea, shook his head. “He’d take us down with him.”

“You’re the one being paranoid now.”

“I don’t think so. I know Joel. He’d drag us all to death row just to make a point.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You can’t send the police after him,” Dan said. As he thought about the consequences of Shrini doing that his lower back went into spasm, the pain sucking his breath away. For a long moment he couldn’t breathe in air. When the spasm subsided, he saw his knuckles were bone-white as he gripped the wheel.

“Dude,” Shrini said, laughing weakly, “you’re sweating worse than me.”

Dan pulled over. He took several aspirin and chewed them slowly. When he trusted himself to drive again, he pulled the car back on to the road.

“We never should have robbed that bank,” Dan said.

“Believe me, our mistake wasn’t robbing that bank. It was inviting Gordon and that peacock along.”

Dan was shaking his head. “We shouldn’t have done it, Shrini. We fucked up. The best thing we can do now is forget about the bank and move forward the best we can. I told you my business idea. Let’s just do it and make some money together.” Hesitating, he added, “I’ll give you half of the thirty-two grand I was paid.”

“No way, dude. We robbed that bank and I’m getting my share.” Shrini grimaced as a jolt of pain shot through him. His voice tight, he added, “I am not letting your peacock friend get away with this.”

“Jesus Christ, Shrini, can’t you see how fucking pointless this is? Two people are already dead-”

“Three people. You forgot he killed his pig-friend also.”

“Goddamn it, you were shot through the foot. Isn’t that enough? When’s this going to be over?”

“Ask your friend.”

“Come on, man, if we try my business idea, we might end up making more money than we took in the robbery.”

“That is not the money I want. Believe me, I am going to get my cut, with or without your help.”

Dan turned and saw the determination and anger set in Shrini’s face. There was no point trying to talk sense into him, at least not now.

When they were a few miles from Shrini’s apartment complex, Dan asked Shrini to give him a week. “Don’t send the cops after Joel, okay? Just give me that time to figure something out.”

Shrini was shaking his head.

“Please, just one week. That’s all I’m asking. Afterwards do whatever you want.”

Reluctantly, Shrini agreed. “One week,” he said. “After that I’m taking care of matters my own way.”

Dan swung into the apartment complex, pulled up alongside Shrini’s Civic and helped Shrini into it. After Shrini drove off, Dan noticed blood stains on the passenger floor mat and seat. The leather interior had been treated so he should be able to clean the blood off the seat, but he was going to have to buy a new floor mat and hope Carol wouldn’t notice. If she did, there would be the inevitable questions and yet more lies. That was the least of his problems though.

Even given a week, or a year for that matter, he couldn’t see how he was going to figure out anything as far as Joel and Shrini went.

Stopping at a strip mall, he bought some supplies and cleaned up as best he could. There were red smudges ingrained in the leather that he couldn’t get out. No amount of scrubbing seemed to help. After a while he gave up trying and tossed the floor mat and the leftover supplies into a dumpster. He’d wait until the next day to buy a new floor mat and to get the interior cleaned. He felt too tired at that moment to do much of anything but head home.

When Carol saw him, she asked what was wrong.

“Nothing. I’m just beat. Why?”

“You have blood on your shirt.”

He looked down and saw she was right. “I had a nosebleed. Nothing too serious.”

“I can’t remember you ever having one before.”

“What can I tell you. I had one. It happens, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, hurt. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

“Sorry, I’m just tired. And having a nosebleed kind of threw me. I’m going upstairs to lie down for a few minutes.” As he walked past her, she told him Peyton called. “He’s going to pick us up tomorrow at twelve.”

Puzzled, Dan asked what for.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Gordon’s funeral. He said he already talked to you about it. You were planning on us going, weren’t you?”

From the way she was studying him, he knew he had no choice in the matter. Not unless he wanted to bring back her suspicions from the other day. “I guess I’d forgotten about it,” he said.

“You sleeping in there? We’ve got laws in this city against public loitering.”

Maguire opened his eyes but didn’t bother looking out his driver’s-side window. It was one of those hot, muggy summer days. Not even ten o’clock yet and over ninety degrees. Maguire looked uncomfortable, his shirt collar soaked through, perspiration beading his neck and face. He said, “I saw you when you pulled up behind Petrenko.”

Resnick stood next to Maguire’s Ford Mustang, holding a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. “I take it Brown’s inside.”

Maguire nodded. “He’s been in there since the bank opened.” Rolling his eyes, he added, “I never got a chance to thank you for recommending me for this assignment. Nothing I enjoy more during the summer than sitting for hours in a hot, stuffy car. It’s been a thrill a minute.”

Resnick took a sip of his coffee and burned the inside of his mouth. “Not my fault. I recommended someone watch Brown. Putting you on him was Hadley’s idea. He’s trying to keep us busy until the FBI wraps up their deal with Lombardo.”

“He’s got you on Petrenko?”

“Yeah.” Resnick blew on the coffee before taking another sip.

“Viktor had some business in the North End yesterday, probably meeting with one of Lombardo’s bosses.”

“Probably?”

“I lost him for an hour.”

“Tough luck. It would’ve been nice to know who he met with.”

“How about you, anything going on with Brown?”

“Sort of.” Maguire wiped a hand across his forehead, the sweat spiking up his hair. “Thursday night a van slowed down in front of his house and then drove off. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see inside, but my gut was they drove off only because they spotted me.”

“Did you get a license plate?”

“Yep. Van’s owned by a dry-cleaner on Forrest Street. The Russian owner looked scared when I talked to him. He claimed the van was stolen.”

Resnick shook his head. “They were going to try to snatch Brown.”