Olivia looked at the smoking gun in her hand. She looked at Manny. What had happened? Why was there no blood?
Then she saw the compact, deadly Charter Arms revolver pointed at her. Manny was still crying when he shot her.
This time, there was blood.
86
Beck told Markov everything that Olivia and Crane had done. Markov listened without interrupting. When Beck finished his careful explanation, he pulled a flash drive out of his shirt pocket and held it up for Markov to see.
“The details of the transfers are on this drive, in case you need further proof.”
“All right,” said Markov. “Now what?”
“Now I explain to you my fee and my expenses.”
“Your fee.”
“Yes. I intend to get paid for returning your money to you.”
Markov frowned.
Beck continued. “Here’s how it’s going to work. At one-fifteen, after Milstein’s conversation with the bank, I reset all the IDs and passwords on the account. On this flash drive is also information on how to access an encrypted Web site. On that Web site, midday Monday morning, all the information you need to take control of your money will be displayed. Today is Friday. You’ll have a nice relaxing weekend, and then on Monday your money will be there for you to do what you want with it.”
“I see. And your fee?”
“Twenty percent. Nonnegotiable.”
“Expenses?”
“Let’s call it two hundred thousand.”
Markov continued to stare at Beck. “You want twenty-three million, four hundred thousand.”
“Twenty-three million, four hundred eighty-five thousand, four hundred, thirty-four. You want the thirty-four bucks, call it twenty-three, four eighty-five, four.”
Markov kept his unwavering gaze at Beck. “Why don’t you just kill me and keep it all?”
“First of all, because I doubt all that money is yours. I got a feeling whatever branch of our government you’re running arms for has a good chunk of their money mixed in that account. Maybe it’s money they paid for future purchases. Maybe it’s operating funds. Who knows? But I’d rather not have to worry about some clandestine wing of the U.S. government coming after me for their money.
“Second, like I said, I’m not a thief. It’s not my money. Two people at Summit conspired to steal it. I’ve already explained how. I got it back for you. So I earned a commission.
“Lastly, I’m going to go on the assumption that when this all started, you would have preferred not to kill me. You could have shot me up at Crane’s loft, but you didn’t. My take is you fired those shots to keep me from leaving, but not to kill me. Am I right?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you are. I wanted to question you. That’s why I had Crane taped to his table. To show you what I would do to you.”
“And I’m assuming once I put down those two men of Kolenka’s, Kolenka decided I had to go.”
“Yes. And truthfully, I didn’t try to change his mind.”
Beck said, “You couldn’t have. So, do we have a deal?”
Markov asked, “You aren’t worried I will try to have you killed?”
“Will you?”
“No. Same reason as you. I don’t know who would come after me. You obviously have a lot of men. How else could you wipe out Kolenka and his crew, and Gregor and his men?”
“So, we’re agreed. You pay me my commission and costs. I give you ninety-two million and change, which is a hell of a lot more than you have right now. You don’t send any more people after me. And I don’t kill you right here and now.”
Markov inclined his head toward Beck and gave him a knowing look. “What does that mean? That you will kill me someplace else, later?”
Beck said, “No. I won’t kill you now, or later.”
Markov smiled, and let out a short laugh. He shook his head, muttering in Russian. He stuck his meaty hand out to Beck and said, “Take your expenses out of the twenty-three fucking million dollars, and we have a deal.”
Beck didn’t hesitate for a second. “No. You don’t really give a shit about two hundred grand. You’re just negotiating out of habit. Stop it. There are significant expenses still left to me. I have no doubt that with a stake of over ninety-two million you’ll earn back what you’re paying me very quickly.”
“What expenses do you have?”
“That’s not your business.”
Markov pointed a fat finger at Beck. “And like you said, this ends it between us. I don’t want to look over my shoulder all the time, as they say. And I won’t give you any reason to look over yours.”
“This ends our business.”
Beck slid the flash drive across the conference room table. Markov picked it up and held it in front of Beck. “The balance will be in this account midday Monday?”
“Yes.”
Markov shoved the drive in his coat pocket and sat back. “Okay. But a question, if you don’t mind. What about Crane and the woman?”
“They are not your concern.”
“Meaning?”
Beck said nothing.
“As of now?”
Beck said nothing.
“Expenses, huh?”
Beck tipped his head in agreement.
“All right,” said Markov, “I’m not negotiating, but I have one last question.”
“What?”
“Why do I have to wait until Monday?”
“Because I need that time for my man to get to the bank in Belize Monday morning. He’ll take our commission. We will confirm all is well on Monday, and by twelve noon all the information you need to take control of the account will be posted on the encrypted Web site.”
“I don’t like waiting.”
“Too bad.”
“You don’t trust I will pay you your money.”
“I don’t have to trust you.”
Markov took a long, slow breath. Scrunched his face. Put his meaty left hand over his eyes and rubbed. He blinked. Looked at Beck and said, “I underestimated you, Mr. Beck.”
“You just didn’t know me.”
Beck picked up the Browning, shoved it behind his right hip, stood up, and left Leonard Markov sitting at the conference room table.
*