CHAPTER ELEVEN
Finn drove across the Ironbound, keeping to the speed limit. The wind had picked up, gusting against the truck and swirling grit off the streets.
“What I don’t understand …” Jake said.
“Yeah?”
“So the way you describe it, this guy Wes wants us to break in but not actually take anything.”
“Right.”
“An incredibly well-protected vault filled with precious metals. Could be anything in there—millions and millions of dollars’ worth. Tens of millions.”
“Or even hundreds. Yup.”
“We break our backs getting in—I mean, you can come up with a plan and all, but it sure ain’t going to be easy—and then we stand there, surrounded by more treasure than we could spend in ten lifetimes …”
“Uh-huh.”
“And then we just walk away.”
“That’s Wes’s proposal.”
“But the payout, the only way we actually get any money out of this for ourselves—Wes has to pay us. We’re completely dependent on him.”
“Like I said, that’s his proposal.”
Jake crossed his arms. “I don’t like it.”
Finn slowed for a light.
“Me neither,” he said. “That job would be stupid. All risk and no reward.”
Jake started to smile. “I knew it!”
“Wes just needs the break-in to cover up his problems with fake ingots—not for us to actually steal anything. If we get caught and somebody talks, then he’s got huge potential problems. So he wants us in and out as quick as possible.”
“But we’re smarter than that,” said Jake.
“We’re not leaving empty-handed, no.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much are we going to take out?”
Finn nodded. “Everything,” he said.
They pulled into the Home Depot parking lot where Finn had picked Jake up earlier. It was a good place to meet and switch vehicles: busy in the early morning, filled with small-time contractors who looked no different from themselves coming and going. Finn had checked, and the store’s cameras all seemed to be on the building itself, not at the far end of the lot.
Wind buffeted the truck. Jake didn’t get out immediately.
“So you’re in?” Finn said.
“Now that I know you’re serious.” Jake patted his pockets, looking for something. “Work-for-hire’s bullshit, but if we can offload a few million dollars of untraceable metal, then damn straight I’m in.”
“You might be thinking too small.”
“Fucking awesome, man.”
Down the row from them, two guys were hoisting a stack of plywood onto a panel van’s roof rack. The wind kept lifting the wood sheets, threatening to send them across the lot like a tornado. Even through the closed cab, Finn could hear them swearing and shouting at each other.
Jake found what he’d been searching for, a round chewing-tobacco tin. “Want some?”
“I quit when I was inside.” Finn felt the nicotine pull but resisted. “Don’t need the mouth cancer.”
Jake shook the tin and it rattled. “Me, too—I just store my gum in here.”
“All the same.”
The pair of carpenters finally secured their plywood by having one guy climb up and sit on top of the stock while the other tied the ropes around it. Elsewhere in the lot, carts were shoved sideways by the wind, hats blown away, a swirl of dust and paper and rubbish kicked up in a minicyclone.
“Feels like a storm is coming, even though the sky’s clear,” said Jake.
“Can you talk to the galvanizing shop today?” The plan wasn’t detailed inside Finn’s head, but he could see the contours.
“Yeah, but he’s going to wonder.”
“Tell him you need to get rid of a body.”
Jake laughed. “I think he might do that on the side anyway.”
He shook out a few Chiclets, threw them into his mouth, and zipped his jacket back up. “I got to get going.”
Finn nodded. “Thanks.”
As he opened the door, Jake paused. “We’re going to need a railroad man,” he said.
“I know.”
“A good one.”
“I already called him,” said Finn. “Just waiting to hear back.”