Niceville

business is it of his?”
    “BD Securicom does all the intel and security work for Quantum Park. The bank at Gracie holds the payroll for most of Quantum Park. You know that.”
    “Yeah. Half their cash draw was on our truck. But Byron Deitz has no need to be sticking his ugly face in. You tell Holliman you’re already looking at the driver?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Holliman back off?”
    Boonie had to think about that.
    “Well, he said so.”
    “You believe him?”
    “No, I don’t, now you come to ask. I don’t trust Phil Holliman. Or Byron Deitz. Deitz is taking this bank thing real personal. No doubt he’d like to get some knuckle-time with Lyle Crowder, just to make sure.”
    “Did you tell Holliman where Crowder was?”
    Boonie actually went pink.
    “Yeah, I let it slip, as a matter of fact.”
    “Where is Crowder now?”
    “We got him in a sealed ward at Sorrows,” said Boonie, letting it slip again. “Got two guys with him.”
    “Good guys?”
    “Arnie Sparks and Tom Tibbet.”
    “They’re both pretty new, Boonie.”
    “Yeah. But they’re who I had to spare. Everybody else is out knocking on snitches and shaking out the whorehouses. Marty Coors has all his guys on it too. Hell, be a good time to rob another bank, all these guys out looking for cop killers.”
    “Don’t say that out loud, Boonie, you don’t know who might be listening. One thing, I were you, I’d move this Crowder guy.”
    Boonie was quiet for a full minute.
    “You really think so, Charlie?”
    “I do. I really think—”
    Something in his jacket buzzed and then beeped. He looked at the call display, made a
sorry-gotta-take-it
gesture at Boonie, who grinned and waved him on. Danziger picked up the phone, flicked it open. “Danziger,” he said into the cell.
    “Charlie, it’s Coker. I been going through the
proceeds
,” he said. Danziger made it a point not to glance up at Boonie.
    “Is that right?”
    “You remember a flat box, two inches thick, stainless steel, maybe ten by eight?”
    “Yeah, I believe I do.”
    “You figured jewels or some shit, right?”
    “Yeah. Say. Hold on a minute, will you?”
    He lifted the phone, smiled a big happy smile.
    “It’s Coker, Boonie. Hey, Coker, I’m down here at Boonie’s place.”
    “Yo, Coker,” Boonie called out. “You miserable old fuck. How they hanging?”
    Danziger gave Boonie a nice good-old-boy smile so cheerful and friendly it hurt his cheeks and then got back on the phone.
    “Boonie wants to know how they hanging?”
    A pause.
    “Shit. You’re
still at Boonie’s
?”
    “You bet. We’re having some JB and shooting the breeze.”
    “Fuck. Well, you can tell Boonie they’re not hanging at all. You can tell him they’ve fully retracted and they took my dick up with them.”
    “Yeah. No shit. That’s interesting.”
    “No shit. I opened the steel box, Charlie. Now I’m looking at this weird techno-gizmo thing lying here, round and flat, some sort of cyber-robot-Frisbee, and it has a Raytheon GNS logo on it. You figure Raytheon is making robot Frisbees, Charlie, or is this some sorta ultra-top-secret spy shit you stole that is going to jam us deep in the Dumpster of fucking doom with the CIA?”
    “That’s something to think about, for sure.”
    “That’s not all. I’m staring at this robot-spy-Frisbee and then my cell phone rings.”
    “Well, there it is. Look, nice talking—”
    “It’s
Merle Zane
calling. His number anyway, on account of he got cut off. You coming back to help out or you going to play hide-the-floppy with Boonie Hackendorff all day?”
    “Well, you give her a big wet kiss from me, okay? Talk at you later.”
    He snapped the phone shut, got to his feet.
    “Gotta run?” said Boonie, draining his Jim Beam and setting the glass down with a satisfied smile. Danziger stood up, finished his off,came over and placed it gently down on Boonie’s desk, shook Boonie’s hand. Boonie shook back hard enough to jerk Danziger’s chest wound and send a bolt of pain up his throat, but Danziger had other things to think about right now.
    “Yeah. Gotta run,” he said, but he managed to keep it down to a walk until he got to the curb.

Nick and Beau Find Time to Reflect
    It was past midday—it was turning into a long Saturday shift—by the time they got Brandy Gule and Lemon Featherlight sorted out and Beau Norlett’s butt attended to. He hadn’t been stabbed, he explained in a stage whisper, for Nick’s ears alone—he’d been