Nico gazed over at all ten wheels. “This is a really big truck.”
“Yes,” I said, becoming suspicious.
“I’ve never driven a big truck like this before.”
“What?” I said. “You’re kidding me. How did you get out of all the family training?”
He shifted uneasily on his feet. “Not all. That just wasn’t my thing, Gina. Remember, I was the family break-and-enter trainee. I was busy learning the ropes from Jimmy the Cat when you were getting the vehicle training.”
Like most kids, we had to learn the family business when young. Really, it’s not much different than a family that owns, say, a variety store or gas station. The kids are trained to help out with the family business after school, before they can decide they want a different career.
I wanted a different career. Nico was not so picky—at least, not at first.
I forced myself back to the matter at hand.
Nico nodded. “I’ll do anything you want for a month. Even clean your room.”
“Nico, that worked when we were kids. It doesn’t work now.” But he had me smiling, as he knew he would.
It had been years since I’d driven a transport. I gazed over at the thing. It stood there, almost like it was beckoning. Like it was daring me.
I wasn’t very good at ignoring dares. The challenge called to me. There was just one thing.
I turned to face him. “First, come clean.”
“What do you mean?” Nico said, looking off in the distance.
Like he didn’t know what I meant.
“What’s in the truck?”
“Oh, that.” He pawed the ground with the toe of his sneaker. “Nothing bad. Honest.”
Having been part of this family for thirty years, I know when it is in my interest to probe deeper.
“Define bad,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I’m telling the truth. There’s nothing stolen in that truck. Scout’s honor.”
He held up two fingers. They were the wrong two fingers. Nico never was a Boy Scout. They don’t have badges for hot-wiring cars.
“Open the back,” I said, standing firm.
Nico sighed deeply. He walked over to the back of the truck and hopped up on the tailgate. I watched as he worked the levers to open the doors.
I waited until he jumped down and then took a look in the back myself.
“Bottles. Cases and cases of bottles…of what?”
“Nothing dangerous, Gina.”
I got close enough to see the label on one. From a distance, the other labels looked to be the same.
“Gordon’s gin. Why are we shipping so many bottles of Gordon’s gin?” I didn’t get it. Something was amiss. Now, if I could just think…
“It’s not really—” Nico stopped and took a breath. “We’re just doing somebody a favor. That’s all.”
Why would Jimmy and Magda be driving a truck full of—
“Holy shit!” I said. “Are we back into BOOTLEGGING?”
Nico squirmed like a little kid. “Well, technically, we were never not in it, Gina. We never really left it.”
“Oh for crissake.” I felt my heart pound. Here’s the thing about our past. Bootlegging is the way my family got started in their various businesses. You might say it provided the seed money.
The Hammer is pretty close to the American border. So when Prohibition came about, my great-grandfather and his buddies got busy. Or was it my great-great? Doesn’t matter. Thing is, they were pretty good at making gin, and even better at sneaking it across the border.
“I thought all the stills had been shut down before we were born,” I said, waving my arms in the air.
Nico shrugged. “You can still make a lot of money bypassing taxation, Gina. But really, it’s a very secondary business for us.”
I still had a whole lot of questions. But I was starting to feel that I shouldn’t ask them. The less I knew, the better.
“Nico, this is a really bad idea,” I said. “Can’t we just call someone else to move this truck? I don’t want to be this involved.”
“We’re not going far. Honestly, Gina, we can get the truck to its destination in almost the same time it would take you to track down someone to do it instead of us. And I can’t let Magda down. I promised we’d take care of it.”
“This sucks,” I grumbled. That was the problem. I hated to let people down, especially Jimmy and Magda. They had helped me a few weeks back with the whole art-gallery heist. Actually, it was a reverse heist. But I’m not sure the cops would see it that way.
Poor Jimmy. I hoped he was doing okay. Yes, I’d do this for him. I mean, let’s be realistic. We were nearly at the destination. What could possibly go wrong at this stage?
“Hand me the keys,” I said. “Are you going to come with me or drive my car?”
“Drive your car, so we can leave immediately after we do the drop-off.”
I winced as I tossed him my second set of keys. I really don’t like terms like do the drop-off.