Brock
Brock gave the ten-beat secret knock, and Hammer opened the door to the warehouse. Crack had his usual blank expression, while Brock did his best to look dejected as they walked in. Ben, Franny, Robby, Greg, and all the Twisted Saints stood frozen like figures in a tapestry, trying to decipher the look on Brock's face and his body language.
“Well? Did it work?” Hammer asked. “Did you get the 2.5 mil?”
Brock sighed. “No, I'm afraid not.” He opened the valise, tossing it onto the floor so they could see the contents. “I got five.”
Hammer's eyebrows jumped halfway up his head. “What? Five?”
A slow smile spread across Brock's lips as he nodded. “Five. Million. Dollars.”
The room erupted into cheers and applause. Even Franny smiled, pumping her fist in the air triumphantly.
Hammer gave Brock a bear hug, lifting him up. “You're a genius! You're a goddamn motherfucking genius! Five million! You took that asswipe for five million fucking dollars!”
“Take it easy,” Brock wheezed. “I can't breathe!”
Hammer put him down, then started jumping up and down in the air. “Holy shit, I can't believe we got away with it!”
“I gotta hand it to you, Brockie,” Ben said, shaking his hand. “Rocky start, but a hell of a finish.”
“So how are we splitting up the loot?” Robby asked. “I don't know how you were thinking of dividing it up, but I figure I should get at least a million for making the introduction...”
“Actually, if you count it as a seven-way split with Hammer representing the Saints as a whole, we should each end up with just under eight hundred and thirty-four thousand dollars,” Franny pointed out.
“Nobody likes a math geek, lady,” Robby said with a grin.
“I wouldn't go calculating individual shares just yet.” Brock picked up the valise again, closing it. “We're just getting started.”
The celebratory sounds died down. Hammer frowned. “What are you talking about? We won. We got the money. It's over.”
Brock smirked. “You guys don't know much about much out here in the bayou, do you? I keep telling you, this is the Spanish Prisoner con. This was just Phase One.”
“I don't like the sound of that,” Robby said uneasily.
“You should,” Brock countered. “Didn't I promise you more money than you'd ever seen in your life? 'Fuck you' money? 'Spend the rest of your life spending' money? Do you really think eight hundred grand is enough for all that? Come on.” He turned to Hammer. “And you. Sure, you got your money back four times over. But is that really enough after the way Ricci humiliated you? Don't you want to make him bleed?”
“I ain't worried about making him bleed,” Hammer said. “I'm worried about how he's gonna make us bleed if we don't quit while we're ahead.”
“Yeah, pushing our luck is a bullshit move,” Robby chimed in. “I've run enough casinos to know this is that moment everyone has after they've hit the jackpot. The smart ones take the money and run. Only the losers keep standing there until they've fed every coin back into the machine and they're left with nothing.”
“I think I'm with them,” said Greg. “These aren't random rubes we're ripping off, here. This is the mob. By the time they realize they've been scammed, we should all be long gone or there'll be hell to pay.”
“Well, by that rationale, it won't matter how far any of us run,” Brock insisted. “They'll still be powerful and influential enough to catch up with us. Our only shot at escaping in one piece is making sure that by the time we're done with Ricci, he's a joke among his fellow gangsters and his entire operation is crippled beyond repair.”
The others looked at each other uncertainly.
“Look, I know you're scared,” Brock continued. “I know you think it's time to get while the getting is good, but you have to think it through. We can either break Ricci completely, or we can all spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. I don't know about the rest of you, but I doubt I'll get much enjoyment from the money if I'm checking under my bed for hitmen four or five times a night.”
Franny stepped forward. “I hate to admit it, but Brock is right. When dealing with something as potentially volatile as this, the only smart move is to stabilize it completely before turning your back on it. No risks, no half-measures, or you're just begging for the whole thing to explode.”
Hammer thought this over for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Okay. You've got a point, even if I'm getting a little tired of being surprised by you. So what's the next step?”
Brock smiled. “I knew you'd see reason. The next step is actually a two-pronged approach. First, I've got another date with Maggie set up for three days from now.” Everyone in the room began to protest at once, but Brock waved them down. “Relax, okay? Nothing's going to happen. I'm just keeping things smooth and staying in the picture so I can keep Ricci happy.”
“And what's the other part of it?” Hammer asked.
Brock put an arm around Hammer's shoulder. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a dirtbag named Murray Morrow?