Missing You(42)

Reynaldo looked back at him. Dmitry kept his face in the computer, concentrating a little too hard on the screen.

“Problem?” Reynaldo asked.

“Nothing that can’t be solved.”

Reynaldo waited. Titus walked over to him and handed him a gun.

“Wait for my signal.”

“Okay.”

Reynaldo jammed the gun into his waistband, covering it with his shirt. Titus inspected it for a second and then nodded his approval. “Dmitry?”

Dmitry looked up over his pink-tinted glasses, startled. “Yes?”

“Go get something to eat.”

Titus didn’t have to tell him twice. Dmitry was out of the room in seconds. Reynaldo and Titus were alone now. Titus stood in the doorway. Reynaldo could see a flashlight bouncing about in the woods. It came into the clearing and up the steps.

“Hey, guys.”

Claude was in his fancy black suit. Titus had two guys working transportation. Claude was one of them.

“So what’s up?” Claude asked with a big smile. “Do you need me to pick up another package already?”

“Not yet,” Titus said in that soothing voice that even made the hairs on the back of Reynaldo’s neck stand up. “We need to talk first.”

Claude’s smile started to falter. “Is there a problem?”

“Take off your jacket.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a beautiful suit. It’s a warm night. There’s no need for it. Please take it off.”

It took effort, but Claude managed a casual shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Claude took off his suit jacket.

“The pants too.”

“What?”

“Take them off, Claude.”

“What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

“Humor me, Claude. Take off the pants.”

Claude sneaked a glance at Reynaldo. Reynaldo just stared back.

“Okay, why not?” Claude said, still trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. “I mean, you’re both in shorts. I might as well be too, right?”

“Right, Claude.”

He slipped off his pants and handed them to Titus. Titus hung them neatly across the back of a chair in the far corner. He turned again toward Claude. Claude stood there in his dress shirt, tie, boxers, and socks.

“I need you to tell me about the last delivery.”

Claude’s smile flickered, but managed to stay on. “What’s there to tell? It went smoothly. She’s here, right?”

Claude forced up a chuckle. He spread his hands, looking at Reynaldo again for some kind of support. Reynaldo stayed still as a stone. He knew how this was going to end. He just wasn’t yet sure of the route.

Titus stepped closer, so he was only inches away from Claude. “Tell me about the ATM.”

“The what?” Then seeing that wasn’t going to play: “Oh. That.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay, look, it’s cool. I know you have rules, Titus, and you know I’d never break them unless, well, I absolutely had to.”

Titus stood there, patient, all the time in the world.

“So, okay, right. I started driving and then I realized like an idiot—well, not like an idiot. An idiot. I was an idiot. No like about it. A forgetful idiot. See, I left my wallet at home. Stupid, right? So anyway, I can’t make the journey without any cash, right? I mean, it’s a long ride. You get that, don’t you, Titus?”

He stopped and waited for Titus to respond. Titus did not.

“So, okay, yes, we stopped at an ATM. But don’t worry. I kept it in state. I mean, we were still within twenty miles of her house. I never got out of the car, so there was no way the surveillance camera could see me. I just kept the gun on her. I told her if she did anything, I’d go after her kid. She got the money—”

“How much?”

“What?”

Titus smiled at him. “How much money did you have her take out?”

“Uh, the max.”

“And how much was that, Claude?”

The smile flickered one more time and went out. “A thousand dollars.”

“That’s a lot,” Titus said, “of cash to need for a journey.”

“Well, hey, come on. I mean, she was taking money out anyway. Why not get the max, am I right?”

Titus just looked at him.

“Oh, right, stupid me. You’re wondering why I didn’t tell you. I was going to, I swear. I just forgot.”

“You’re pretty forgetful, Claude.”

“Look, in the larger scheme of things, it’s a pretty small amount.”

“Precisely. You put all of us at risk for petty cash.”

“I’m sorry. Really. Here, I have the money. It’s in my pants pocket. Go see. It’s yours, okay? I shouldn’t have done it. It won’t happen again.”

Titus moved back across the room to the chair where he’d hung the trousers. He reached into the pocket and pulled out the bills. Titus looked pleased. He nodded—the signal—and put the money in his own pocket.

“Are we good?” Claude asked.

“We are.”

“Okay, great. Can I, uh, put my clothes back on?”