Ciro picked up both leashes and started to lead both dogs back to Dog Hill. But now his cousin’s dog wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps it had to do with being jerked three feet off his feet.
Ciro picked up the little dog, feeling bad about giving it such a hard tug. Milstein’s dog walked along with him as if nothing had happened.
When he got to where Milstein usually let the dog off the leash, he released Tam. The big dog immediately ran off into the dark field.
Ciro kept the small dog cradled in his arm so he wouldn’t follow the big dog.
“Sorry about pulling you so hard little guy.”
Mickey looked up at Ciro and licked his gloved hand.
Ciro smiled, and then he realized the little dog was licking Milstein’s blood.
*
Beck had waited until after Olivia’s funeral to distribute the cash that Alex Liebowitz had smuggled in with his scuba-diving equipment from Belize.
He’d decided that the bribes he’d paid to Walter Pearce would set the amount. Thirty thousand for setting up the cops, plus twenty for monitoring Milstein’s call to the Belize bank. It added up to an even fifty thousand dollars.
He didn’t even try to calculate whose efforts might have been worth more than another’s. Nydia, the Bolos, Phineas, Brandon Wright, Joey B: without any one of them, they would have never survived.
He doubled the amount he gave to Pearce, giving each of them a hundred thousand in cash.
He also paid for Joey B’s hospital bills and follow-up care.
He knew Brandon Wright wouldn’t accept any money, so he bought him a case of his favorite Irish whiskey, Midleton Very Rare, gave him ten thousand dollars to give to his surgical nurse, and asked Wright to name a charity to which Beck promised to contribute money in the doctor’s name.
That left Willie Reese and Alex Liebowitz outside the core team. Willie got fifty thousand in cash. Alex got five hundred thousand funneled into his trading account.
After laundering the remaining money through five dummy corporations Alex had set up, paying the corporate taxes to keep clean with the IRS, Beck had enough to give himself, Manny, Ciro, and Demarco three million dollars, leaving a little over four million to keep the house fund they all shared solvent for the foreseeable future.
Given a choice, Demarco and Ciro would have preferred to skip the funeral. Beck had mixed feelings. But out of respect for Manny, they all attended.
Manny had taken care of everything. Beck never asked how he managed to make the funeral arrangements, obtain a death certificate, and cremate the body.
The four of them stood in their best suits in a small chapel at Ferncliff cemetery north of the city. The minister was Hispanic. They listened to the ritual, keeping their thoughts private.
From the chapel they walked a short distance to the mausoleum where the urn containing her ashes was placed into a small crypt.
The day was bright and crisp, the air cold and clean, much like the day when it had all started. As they walked from the mausoleum to their car, Beck thought about Olivia Sanchez. What a terrible, terrible waste. Such a smart, tough, stunning woman. But in the end, so very heartless and reckless, so driven by greed.
Beck resolved to put her out of his thoughts. He would have to concentrate on Manny now.
Tomorrow, thought Beck. After the paper, with my second cup of coffee, I’ll sit with Manny. In his kitchen. Across from him at that beat-up old wooden table.
They’d talk over things. He knew, despite whatever grief or hurt or anger Manny felt, he would want to go over everything with him. Again. That was his way.
Confirm that Milstein was dead. And Crane. And Stepanovich. And Kolenka. And all their men either dead, deported, or locked up for a long time.
Beck knew it might take some time to reassure Manny that the last one who had tried to harm them, Markov, was also dead. The mercenaries were sure to destroy the corpse. But he would put the proposition to Manny. Explain his theory that if Crane had paid the ex–Special Forces soldiers to protect him, it stood to reason that he’d paid them to take out Markov.
Crane had to know that when Markov went after Beck and Olivia for his money, one of two things would happen. Beck might kill Markov, and that would be the end of it. Or, Markov would kill Beck. Undoubtedly after torturing him to find out where the money was. At which point, Markov would know that Beck didn’t have his money. And that Olivia had disappeared, as had Crane. Which means that Markov would know who really took his money. Therefore, Crane couldn’t let Markov live.
Of course, Manny would want to know how they could be sure the mercenaries would succeed. Beck would explain they were very good at such things. And that Markov’s protection was based on no one ever knowing where he was. As Ahmet Sukol had explained, Markov never stayed in one place for longer than one night. But Beck had solved that problem. The flash drive he had given Markov with the information about his Belize account also contained a GPS receiver and software that transmitted his location. And Ricky Bolo had confirmed that he gave Ralph Anastasia the URL of a Web site that would display Markov’s location. There was no doubt that Markov would keep the flash drive with him wherever he went until at least noon on Monday. Plenty of time for Anastasia and his team to find him.
As Beck walked the final steps to the gleaming black Mercury Marauder, he hoped knowing all that would give Manny solace. Maybe, he thought. But not enough. Not nearly enough.