Niceville

but he wouldn’t want that to get out and around.
    “Shoot,” said Coker.
    “What was this thing doing in a lockbox at the First Third in Gracie?”
    “That’s easy,” said Coker. “Waiting for you to come along and get us rat-fucked.”
    “Yeah, well, aside from that.”
    Coker gave it some consideration.
    “Off the top of my head, I’d say there was no good reason at all for it to be sitting there. If it really is some sorta high-tech classified shit, then it would be in a lockdown at the Raytheon HQ in … where the fuck?”
    “Waltham. That’s in Massachusetts.”
    “Or in whatever the fuck subsidiary in Quantum Park is doing R and D for Raytheon.”
    “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.”
    “Do you know what
is
the Raytheon subsidiary in Quantum Park?”
    “Looked it up. Company called Slipstream Dynamics.”
    “Slipstream Dynamics? Okay, so you figure Slipstream Dynamics might have a problem with one of their super-secret Frisbees lying around in a lockbox at the First Third Bank in Gracie?”
    A slow incline of Danziger’s head as he glared down at the thing.
    “When you were rooting around in the vault, did you happen to notice whose lockbox it was?”
    “No,” said Danziger. “They never have names. Only numbers.”
    “So you just picked it …”
    “Because it was there.”
    “So … if it wasn’t
supposed
to be there …?”
    “Then this would also explain why nobody on the news has said anything about some high-tech gizmo being stolen from the First Third in the first place, which means that whoever was keeping it there was doing something the good folks at Raytheon probably would not …”
    “Smile upon?”
    “Yeah.”
    Coker worked that out. Danziger watched him do it. Watching Coker think was always interesting.
    “You’re thinking, maybe they’d like it back?”
    “That’s what I’m thinking.”
    Coker was quiet for a time, so Danziger poured them both some more Jim Beam and lit himself another one of Coker’s Camels, thought briefly about giving up smoking, at least until his right lung healed, rejected that idea, and sat back with a contented sigh to watch Coker think some more.
    “Risky,” was what Coker finally said.
    Danziger nodded.
    “So’s killing cops for money. How much did we get, by the way?”
    Coker waved, absently, in the direction of the kitchen counter, where thirty-nine neat stacks of bundled bills were lined up with OCD-level precision next to a smaller heap of rings, jewels, and negotiable bonds taken from the various lockboxes that Danziger and Merle Zane had found the time to pry open after they’d loaded up the currency.
    “Comes to two million one hundred and sixty-three thousand dollars, plus the miscellaneous shit.”
    Danziger was visibly shocked.
    “Man. I knew it was a shitload.”
    “Bank is saying they lost two point five.”
    “They always do that in a robbery.”
    “Well, we got two mil one sixty-three plus the miscellaneous shit. How come you don’t look happy?”
    “It’s too much money, Coker. That much money, people go nuts looking for it. It’s too much.”
    “Whaddya wanna do? Give some back?”
    Danziger looked like he was thinking about it.
    “I guess not. But we gotta keep our heads.”
    “Mine’s fine. Hell of a take, Charlie.”
    “Yes it is. And the Frisbee,” said Danziger, privately dividing two mil one sixty-three plus the miscellaneous shit by one and liking the result.
    “Yeah. And the Frisbee. You’re thinking we ransom this sucker back at ’em? Who would we talk to about that?”
    “Probably Byron Deitz. He’s the head of security for the whole place.”
    “And you’re saying that Deitz is already sniffing around this thing. Boonie say why?”
    “Deitz is saying he just wants to help. Brotherhood of the badge and all that shit. And also part of the Quantum Park cash draw is sitting in there on your kitchen counter, so he’s saying that a professional obligation is involved.”
    “Deitz doesn’t give a rusty fuck about anything other than ByronDeitz. Boonie and the Feebs aren’t going to let a mutt like him stomp all over their investigation. Nor is Marty Coors. I wouldn’t either. You say Deitz is asking about Lyle Crowder?”
    “That he is,” said Danziger.
    “That I don’t like. What’s our exposure with Lyle?”
    Danziger shrugged.
    “Even if he rolls, which I don’t think he will, because he’s looking at death for being an accessory, now that he’s killed two