Page 388 of Devil’s Disciples

“Banks are closed,” Crip said with a laugh. “You fellas doing liquor stores now?”

I chuckled. “I’ll retire before I’m reduced to that.”

Crip extended his hand. “I’ll stop asking.”

I shook his hand. He glanced at the kiln. “You want me to dump that shit it an urn, or just sprinkle it out in the ocean amongst a school of dolphins while the sun sets?”

“Pod,” Tito said. “Groups of dolphins are a pod.”

Crip shot Tito a glare, and then glanced at Baker. “Yeah, he’d get real old real fuckin’ quick around here.”

“Until you need to hack into the FBI’s mainframe,” Tito said. “Then, he comes in real handy real fuckin’ quick.”

“FBI?” Crip’s eyes narrowed. “No shit?”

Tito grinned and offered his hand. “I appreciate the help. Let me know if you ever need anything. I mean it.”

Crip shook it. “I’m sure at some point I’ll need something.”

I didn’t know Crip very well, but for some reason, I believed he was probably right. His club, eventually, would get themselves into some serious shit. When that time came, lending a helping hand would be least we could do.

143

Ally

Manipulating a locked safe isn’t as difficult as one might think. With proper knowledge of a safe’s inner workings and a sensitive set of fingertips, a poorly-trained safe cracker could manipulate a conventional safe in no more than a few hours.

Normally, it took me fifteen minutes.

I was on the last number. With the care and precision my father taught me, I turned the dial ever so slowly. The tip of the fence connected with the drive cam’s contact point.

Yes!

Slowly, I turned the dial in the other direction. The fence connected the other contact point. A chill ran along my spine. It was the equivalent of feeling a piece of dust under one’s ass when sitting on a sofa. Some had the knack, and some didn’t. My heart raced. I paused and wiped the sweat from my brow with my free forearm.

I was there.

I wiggled the dial back and forth until the fence fell into place with a click!

I twisted the handle. It snapped into the open position. I paused. I lifted my chin and gazed at the ceiling.

I love you, Daddy.

The sense of accomplishment I obtained from opening an “impenetrable” safe by using nothing more than a delicate hand and a mind filled with knowledge was unexplainable.

A heightened sense of elation filled me. I pulled against the door’s handle. The two-inch-thick chunk of steel swung open, revealing just what Ghost had indicated.

My heart thrashed against my ribs.

Holy. Shit.

Contrary to the preconceived notions of most people, money doesn’t take up much space. Ten thousand dollars is a stack of hundred-dollar bills a half inch in height. Consequently, eight stacks of bills six inches high is a million dollars. The money could easily be picked up and placed in a plastic Target grocery bag, along with a gallon of milk and a dozen apples. It seems illogical, but it’s true.

I stared at the neatly stacked bills. Each was bound by a yellow band marked $10,000. I quickly calculated the height, depth, and width.

A little over seven million dollars.

Goose had once asked what my biggest job was. The answer was staring me in the face.