I never thought I'd see her like this. On the table, an almost empty bottle of whiskey, fluoxetine scattered around it. Damn pills. Cesara was curled on the couch, face buried in her hands, a low, raw moan coming out of her. I rushed over, tried to pull her up, but she shoved me away and curled in on herself even tighter.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlvoFpXcAUs
"They... they..." — her voice broke, sobs tearing through her.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVU9zQ4PVwe
"What? What did they do?"75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNx5rOlocqZ
"...Bathsheba's with them. God... I can't do this, Charles... I can't..."
This was a turn I hadn't seen coming. Pachèrito was a step ahead. How? Jedrzej called yesterday — said Günter had cleared out, but that was fine. That's what they'd told him. What if he hadn't left? What if they'd gotten to him? Tracked him, broke him — and now he's drifting through the Amsterdam canals? Unlikely. More likely he'll turn up in a pile of manure they use for the tulips. And Dorothy? Who gives a damn. Both the original and the copy are already in other hands — she's out of the picture. The planes leave in four hours. If Ngambolo doesn't blow it, First Security lifts off with the forgery, and Pshchedbrzdzhynski tails with the original. What about Bathsheba? Did Pachèrito grab her as leverage?
I gave Cesara a gentle shake:75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCaUSACZijo
"What did Pachèrito say?"75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIAE2scW9W5
She stayed silent, sobbing, hand over her eyes, saying nothing.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7IprvWNDyi
"Is Bathsheba insurance?" — I needed an answer.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM8gw6nYuLP
"Yes... They figured it all out. Charles, they know everything — they'll kill her! God, she had so little time left..."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ36Tn6ZBXEn
If they hadn't already. She's very weak now. If they haven't killed her yet... What if they have? They'd put her out of her misery.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUXXSH9pI6f
"Did you talk to her? Cesara!"75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡesUvGdkvWG
"I heard her voice... I... I... She's very, very bad..."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEXiSHZ2R83
Her body seized, then went slack... She's about to start shaking. I picked her up, carried her to the bedroom, undressed her, and tucked her under the covers. Cesara was trembling like seized by a fever. I turned off the light and quietly closed the door.
Now what? She'll sleep for about seven hours — I've got time to think. God, she was hammered. I'd have done the same... Probably. If it weren't for the planes. They'll be here by morning. While there's still time... Think, Paul, think. I need air — can't breathe in here. An hour, no more — leaving her alone any longer is too risky.
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I stepped out and flagged a cab. Gave the driver a couple of random addresses. Just needed to roll — maybe make a pit stop somewhere for a drink. An hour, tops.
If something goes south, Pshchedbrzdzhynski will let me know. That's the only time he calls. So pray the phone stays quiet. And it is — don't start sweating. That means Carlos disappears tomorrow. Little Pachèrito'll waste the insurance guys and bolt with the copy. Alive. I won't be able to touch him if it plays out like that. What about a deal? What if I offer him a swap? The original da Vinci for Bathsheba. Would he bite? Would you? I would. What's a sick Jewish girl to him next to a fortune? Yeah — but how do I sell it? Ride in the First Security van and survive the blast? Then step out with a grin and a bunch of roses and a business offer? Bullshit. Tail the van from the airport to the intersection where Pachèrito's hitting it? The insurance guys would clock me by the second light. On a job like this, if you've got less than four cars, you're dead. Options? One — go alone. The phone's silent... So that's it. Shit — I wish something would go wrong. Think, Paul. Think.
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Carlos rolled down the window. A rush of fresh air flooded the car.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBOCJSbvgt8
Her sister's with us — hope she makes it. Idiots — they don't know how to hit. Only Al Capone knew this art. None of his victims died, but they all talked. That era's gone. God, wish this would end.soon.. Now hurry or don't — they're in the grip of it. Cesara's sister is out cold, but there's still time. A sixth sense told him it would all work out — and where the original touches down, they'd know. Either way, he'd send a seven‑ton truck and two cars with men after First Security. What if it's a bluff? Safer if both the copy and the original were in his hands. Damn — where will the original touch down? In two hours, the planes taxi to the runway and head out over the Atlantic. Another six hours, they land. By then, he'd know everything. Including how to spend the rest of his life...
"Pull over here."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuJs6TsyAYr
"Boss?" — the driver turned, confused.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAKJO5TMVBx
"It's fine," Carlos waved. "Half an hour. Wait."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWsSxkrmXhn
"But..."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTSRdhWU2QC
"Quiet spot — nobody knows me here."75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrBqKphn5vd
He stepped out under the emerald neon of an Irish pub. Need to clear my head. The car pulled forward about thirty yards to an empty spot.
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The kid brought me a second round. I paid — I was done for the night. Three hours of sleep, and I'd be fresh. Adrenaline would burn whatever alcohol was left — I'd be stone‑cold sober.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8hzgCpICoJ
Whatever happens in Amsterdam — I don't give a damn. I just want to save Cesara. Nothing ever goes as planned. Never. But this one — this one's the worst. Screw Amsterdam — I wish they'd all crash into the Atlantic. Too bad about Pshchedbrzdzhynski... Good guy. A pro. I'd feel a little bad for the da Vinci too. The stewardess would carry it on her. Not bad. Wonder if her nipples get hard touching greatness? But nobody's crashing yet — they all want money. It's always like that... I took a big gulp, looked up... Then — I don't remember — I think the whiskey glass hung in the air...
75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCgdMVO3Ydy
Little Pachèrito said something to the kid behind the counter, nodded toward the empty table behind him, and headed for the restroom. I'd know that back out of a million — it was burned into my memory like a snapshot from the day I was spitting blood on the office floor, and he stood there, looking out the window, smoking a cigar. I felt for the table knife with my fingers, kept my eyes on the john door, and stood up.
It's hard to kill the first one. The second and third come with a shudder too — and if you're not a born butcher, the fourth and fifth as well. The rest are like stamps on an envelope — you just stick them on and forget. My temples were pounding — is this your last one, Paul? I even felt curious. The curiosity killed everything else in a second — I wasn't thinking about anything. If he didn't take the deal, I'd waste him. The knife would go between the fourth and fifth vertebrae. I was sure he was standing at the urinal.
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I walked up. Pachèrito was standing at the urinal. When the door opened, he didn't even turn.Forty‑five goddamn years in the game... No need to turn — he had eyes in the back of his head:75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwXk26G5UXB
"Why are you here?"75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6n1pRURUBu
He asked in the tone of a star tired of fans. Still pissing.75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaY2l2Aok3f
"You want the da Vinci?"75Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzObotikWDj
"That's not your story anymore."
Spanish‑Italian half‑breeds know how to end things. But this time, Pachèrito misread the script. I drove the knife in — between the fourth and fifth vertebrae. The little man didn't seem to feel a thing — but I felt his eyes go glassy, the muscles in his neck stiffen. With the next move, I wrenched his head sideways. A crack. His body went slack, and with a hollow thud against the urinal rim, Carlos flopped onto the tile floor, face up. His arms fell limp at his sides, the edges of his coat splayed open, his right leg bent unnaturally inward. From his fly hung an old, shriveled dick. They'd offered me two million for it.
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and then Add to home screen.