The Box by Jeremy Brown (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📗

into trouble, that was his own damn problem.

Donaldson was a combat veteran and hadn’t been shy about telling the Romanian the same exact thing.

Wern winced when he heard about that, but it hadn’t amounted to anything serious.

Now Donaldson said, “You think they stole Jim’s Jeep?”

“Apparently somebody did. Don’t make the turn, now. We don’t want anybody getting more riled than they are. Just take a look up Pine and see what you can see.”

“What if I see the Cherokee?”

“Uh…let me know, I guess.”

“Copy that.”

Connelly stood with the remote in his hand and watched while the two Romanians who escorted him to the compound eased the duffel bags out of the Lexus’ trunk and lined them up on the ground.

The silos loomed behind him, about twenty yards away, which seemed an odd thing to walk out of your front door and see, but maybe not in Iowa.

He looked at the front door, Razvan standing there with an arm around Nora’s shoulders, the hand resting on her upper arm.

His other hand held a mean-looking pistol with the barrel pointed at Nora’s stomach.

Nora stared back at Connelly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

But her mouth was a straight line, determined to keep it all together until this was over, and he felt bad for her, getting sucked into this nonsense between the two groups of rough men.

If it got her hurt, or killed, he didn’t see much point in working the rest of his life to get over it.

The man who’d driven the Lexus said something to Razvan, who told Connelly, “They’ve uncovered the explosives. Now, slowly, bring them to her.”

He gestured with the pistol.

“No,” Connelly said. “They stay with the cash.”

Razvan nodded, then dragged Nora down the concrete steps over to the bags on the ground.

Now they were about five yards from Connelly.

“She is with the cash,” Razvan said. “Put the explosives in her hands.”

Connelly was stuck.

He considered Razvan for a few moments, the two men staring at each other, then looked at Nora again.

“Just give them to me,” she said.

Connelly stepped over the bags and went to the trunk.

The driver moved ten yards away and used a blinding flashlight to illuminate the inside of the car, spotlighting the satchel of explosives and making sure Connelly didn’t have a flamethrower or anything else stashed in there.

The other Romanian stood next to him, both of them looking uneasy.

Connelly lifted the satchel by its strap and let the weight swing a bit while he turned.

He couldn’t see the men standing behind the flashlight now, but the beam did move back a few more steps.

He carried the satchel to Nora and laid the strap across her outstretched hands.

“Hold it close,” Razvan told her. “Hug it to your chest.”

She did, staring straight ahead with her jaw muscles working.

“This is the only one?” Razvan said.

Connelly nodded.

“You have the money. We’re leaving now.”

“Not until we count it.”

“It’s all there.”

Razvan shrugged.

“Maybe. Also, not until you tell me how to find your friends.”

Connelly expected this but tried to look caught off-guard.

“That’s not part of the deal.”

“The deal is, you give me what I want and the two of you get to leave.”

“Unharmed.”

“That’s subjective. I think we have different definitions for it.”

“No, it means you keep your hands off us.”

Razvan smiled but didn’t respond, so Connelly said, “You said you wanted the money. It’s here.”

“And your friends.”

“They aren’t my friends. They left. And I don’t know how to find them myself, so how can I tell you?”

“Figure it out. You have until the money is counted.”

“This is bullshit,” Connelly said.

“Then blow us all up. That will teach me, no?”

Another man came out of the house.

Connelly recognized him as the one who walked into the shed at Nora’s, the one he’d almost shot.

He picked up two of the duffels and carried them past Connelly to one of the low concrete and steel buildings.

Connelly watched while he dropped the bags at the door and went through.

When the lights in there came on Connelly saw a very clean space, white walls with no furniture except tables and folding chairs. The tables were set up with cash-counting machines.

The man carried the bags inside and came back for the next pair.

The other two, Connelly’s escorts, moved faster now that the explosives were out of the car. They opened the back doors and yanked the duffels out, carrying them all the way to the counting room.

Connelly figured they wouldn’t notice the partially open zipper with the radio inside if they kept up their current pace, but eventually someone would find the gear.

When it happened, things would change.

Razvan said, “The bomb stays with the money, right?”

He pulled Nora and the explosives toward the counting room.

Before he ducked inside he told Connelly, “Start thinking. And don’t make me ask again. This won’t take long.”

Donaldson drove his cruiser northwest on Pine, splashing the cornfields with his spotlight because who knows what the hell he might see on a day like this?

He stopped at the sign before the railroad tunnel, where all of the horseshit allegedly started.

Well, today anyway.

The Romanians had started it years before, and now things had taken a turn on them.

There weren’t any headlights coming toward him so he pulled through the tunnel, thinking about the crew who’d somehow found out about the armored car and decided it was something to try and take.

Part of him hoped they got away with it.

Teach Razvan and his cocky boys a lesson, maybe pull them out of town on a manhunt.

But what he thought would happen, and dreaded, was some sort of vengeance upon the town and its people. Payback for the humiliation and perceived conspiracy against them and their enterprise.

Donaldson had seen it during his time in the sandbox, and it was infuriating to imagine it happening here at home.

He didn’t think the sheriff would allow anything like that to happen, but he wasn’t certain of it.

Donaldson shook his head, finding it hard to believe.

How, if it came down to backing his officers or the Romanians,