Private L.A.

Chapter 104

 

 

“A HUNDRED AND fifty million!” Watson crowed, and slapped the table inside the garage in the City of Commerce.

 

Cobb threw his hands in the air, then hugged Watson. Nickerson, Kelleher, and Hernandez were celebrating too, throwing high fives, doing little jigs of victory.

 

“You are a goddamned genius, Mr. Watson!” Kelleher cried.

 

“Thirty million apiece,” Nickerson laughed. “Thirty million untraceable.”

 

“I’m seeing Venezuelan women on a beach,” Hernandez said, eyes closed, doing a slow dance.

 

Watson beamed. “I’ll e-mail you the various accounts where your money will land.”

 

“Gentlemen,” Cobb said. “Once again, I have to tell you what an honor it is to have served with you.”

 

“Hoorah,” Nickerson said. “Hoo-fuckin’-rah.”

 

Hernandez opened his eyes, stopped dancing, and said, “That mean we’re cool to go now?”

 

“We still need to strip this place down, pack up,” Kelleher said.

 

“We’re in no hurry,” Cobb said. “That money is far, far from here and they have absolutely no idea where we are, or who we are. We can be gone by eight, nine at the latest. In the meantime, anyone interested in lunch? I’m starving.”

 

“I could go for a burger,” Hernandez admitted. “Though what I’d really like is a prime New York steak.”

 

“No big spending in the next few weeks,” Cobb cautioned.

 

“I’ll pass on the burger, start getting my gear together,” Nickerson said.

 

“Double cheese with bacon with a large order of onion rings sounds like the right thing before packing up,” Kelleher said.

 

“You three go ahead,” Watson said. “I want to get the account numbers to you as quickly as possible. Look for them on your phone. I’ll be along right after.”

 

Cobb gazed at him for a long moment, then nodded. “We’ll save you a seat,” he said. “Outstanding job, Mr. Watson. Absolutely outstanding.”

 

 

 

 

 

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