Page 9 of Devil’s Disciples

I looked at him in disbelief. “How in the hell do you know what his income is?”

“Dumb fucker said so.”

“Okay. Let’s say Pat has a banner day. We hit him before he makes his drop. Then, after we pay for expenses and fuel, we’ll split forty-five grand six ways. That’s seventy-five hundred each if we’re lucky.” I gazed at the ceiling, stroked my beard a few times, and then met his gaze. “Sorry, I’m not interested. We can make that much hitting a fucking taco truck in Salinas.”

“He doesn’t make drops.”

A drop was when a business took their cash to another location and made a deposit. Typically, it was done every day – and never at the same time – which made knowing when they were going to be flush with cash difficult. For someone to have tremendous income and make infrequent drops meant that they’d have an inordinate amount of money on hand.

Money that could be ours.

“Everyone makes drops,” I argued. “What do you mean he doesn’t make drops?”

“He doesn’t make drops.”

My interest was piqued. I straightened my posture. “Ever?”

“Rarely.”

“Define rarely.”

“One-eyed Pete went in there two weeks ago after that guy in Henderson paid him back on that loan.”

“For the slot machines he reconditioned?”

“Yeah. The owner of that underground casino paid him with a gold bar. So, he goes into Pat’s and Pat agrees to buy it--”

“A hundred-gram bar, or a four hundred troy ounce bar?”

“How the fuck would I know? All I know is that Pat paid him four hundred fifty grand for it.” He arched an eyebrow. “In cash.”

He’d garnered my interest. All of it. “You’re telling me he keeps that kind of cash on hand?”

“I’m telling you what I know.” He extended his index finger. “He’s gettin’ a new alarm.” He raised his middle finger. “And, he paid One-eyed Pete damned near half a million in cash.”

“Any word on why he’s getting a new alarm?”

“Told Pete he’s gettin’ some state of the art system. He keeps all his shit in a vault, and doesn’t have a safe. He’s gettin’ one at the same time he gets that alarm. Sounds like he’s gettin’ nervous that someone might break in one day.” He shook his head. “The dumb fuck just offered that up while Pete was in there.”

“When’s he getting the new alarm?”

“Not sure. I told you what I know.”

If Cash was right, the take from the job could easily be in the millions. The thought of it filled me with nervous energy. I needed to calm down, devise a way to disable the alarm, and develop a plan to rid Pat’s Gold and Diamond Exchange of its wealth.

“Reno and Goose are downstairs pulling the motor out of Goose’s Shovel,” I said. “Tito’s supposed to be here in an hour or two. When he shows up, bring him up here. We’ll see what we can figure out with the alarm.”

“So, you’re interested?”

“Fuck yes, I’m interested.”

The ear to ear grin returned. “Headache’s gone, huh?”

Miraculously, it was. I nodded. “It is.”

“I’ll holler at ya when Tito makes it in.” He stood and turned toward the door. “You should really try whacking off, though. Do it while you’re staring out that window of yours.”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”