Chapter 21
IN THE GARAGE in the City of Commerce, Watson clapped, pointed at the iPad in front of him, and roared, “Thar she blows! ‘Tribute’ on the LAPD Facebook page!”
Cobb set down a cup of hot coffee and hurried to see. There it was: “Tribute to the fallen at CVS.”
“You were right on the money, Mr. Cobb,” Johnson said admiringly.
Cobb glanced at his watch. It was eight thirty in the evening. “An hour before I’d predicted, but we’ll take it.”
He turned to Kelleher, said, “Your ball from here.”
The big man smoothed his red beard and began typing on his keyboard.
“Use the New Delhi and Panama crisscrosses,” Watson said.
Kelleher’s left eye screwed up. “Who taught you about the New Delhi and Panama crisscrosses?”
“Just saying,” Watson said.
“No chance they’re paying us two million tomorrow,” Nickerson said.
“Of course not,” Cobb agreed. “They’ll try some sort of scam. Why?”
Watson muttered, “Because the whole world’s a scam, Mr. Cobb.”
“Damn right it is,” Cobb said, feeling in the groove of a familiar rant. “Everybody’s in a scam or being worked by a scammer. Look at Wall Street. Scam. Medicine? Scam. Politics? Scam. Religion? Bigger scam. Military?”
“Biggest scam,” said Hernandez and Johnson in unison.
“Plunderers,” Nickerson said.
Cobb cracked his knuckles, gestured with his scarred chin to Kelleher. “Time to work them a little harder now. Turn up the voltage.”