Page 11 of Master of Lies

The serene face of Ms. Smith suddenly blazed into a sweet, terrifying smile. “Oh, tenfold, I think,” she said. “Don’t be stingy, Mr. Jones. It’s unbecoming.”

“Women,” Mr. Jones murmured. “They do love an extravagant gesture. Well then, Ms. Smith? Do the honors.”

Red watched, stunned, as Ms. Smith pulled open a canvas bag and began to take out wrapped blocks of bank notes. She set them down. Two. Four. Six. Eight.

“I can’t,” Red said, helplessly.

“You have to,” Mr. Jones said heartily. “No choice, my friend.”

“But something like that takes time to—”

“Do it for Maryellen,” Ms. Smith said. “Although with what’s on your plate tonight, you won’t be able to pick her up at the end of her shift at the library. So sweet of her to volunteer. And in this weather, too. Brrr.” She shivered, theatrically. “She’ll have to take the bus. Poor thing. It’s just raw out there.”

Red stared at her. His jaw began to spasm.

“Yes, we know Maryellen’s car is in the shop,” Mr. Jones said. “Just as well, with this nasty snow, in my book. But it makes things complicated. Kylie has to be picked up from band practice. Krista from her theater rehearsal, hmm? Busy busy.”

“D-d-d-don’t get my family mixed up in this—”

“I’m just thinking out loud.” Mr. Jones poked the canvas bag. “A little more, Ms. Smith, for his expenses. Subcontracting is expensive.”

Ms. Smith gave Red a flirtatious smile, and pulled out two more blocks.

“In just a couple of years, you’ll be looking at college costs for Krista.” Ms. Smith’s voice was a taunting lilt. “She’s a good student. So she’ll definitely apply to expensive schools, I’m sure. It’s a disgrace, that a college education is no longer affordable for the middle class without taking on crippling debt. But it is what it is, of course. And we do what we must. Isn’t that right, Red?”

“But…but…”

“Make it happen.” Mr. Jones’s voice was stony. “And one more thing.”

Red braced himself. “What?”

“Tell your people to make those bastards sorry.”

“Um…what do you mean? How, exactly?”

Mr. Jones rolled his eyes. “Be creative. Use your brain, if you have one. Now take your money and get the fuck out of here. I’m sick of looking at you.”

Ms. Smith slid his money into a large manila envelope and passed it to Red with a bright, professional smile.

“Kylie would be my first choice, you know,” Mr. Jones said suddenly. “I love that age. Thirteen. Chubby, budding. Super-fresh. I like redheads, too.”

“Oh, Mr. Jones,” the woman chided him gently. “Don’t scare him. It’s counterproductive.” She took Red’s arm, and hustled him out, through the foyer, and out onto the porch, where snow was blowing sideways in the violent gusts of wind. “He’s in one of his moods,” she murmured into his ear. “Don’t provoke him, Red. Or disappoint him. For Kylie’s sake. I’m sure you understand.”

The door slammed shut. A gust of wind knocked the manila envelope from Red’s hands and into the slush by the walkway, where the envelope burst apart.

The paper tape around the bundled bills split, scattering the bills everywhere.

Red stepped ankle deep into filthy slush, and crouched down to salvage what he could.

CHAPTER5

Jed

Iscanned the prison cafeteria again. Mickey was still nowhere to be seen.

Shit.Mickey wasn’t even physiologically capable of forgetting a date or a detail. He was meticulous. And highly motivated. He wanted his life back.

Which meant something had gone sideways. It was that kind of day.

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