The Millionaires (40 page)

“A few… but the partners are all in New York. And the way that account was hidden… it takes a bigshot to pull that off.”

Charlie angles his head, once again worming his way into my mirror. He thinks I’m hiding something. He’s right. “You thinking
of anyone in particular?” he asks, reading the Lapidus-look on my face. As usual, Charlie nails it. Gallo didn’t just show
up to investigate—he came searching for his own cash. And from what we saw back at the bank, Lapidus and Quincy were the only
ones he was working with.

“So Duckworth invented it, Gallo and DeSanctis took it over, and somewhere along the way, they found an inside man who helped
them bury it in the bank,” Charlie adds. “It’s your call, Ollie—who’s the bigger lowlife, Lapidus or Quincy?”

I shake my head and replay my two seconds in Lapidus’s office. There was one other person there. “It makes sense, but… How
do you know it wasn’t Shep? I mean, he
is
former Secret Serv—”

“It wasn’t Shep,” Charlie interrupts. “Trust me, he wouldn’t do that.”

“But if he—”

“It wasn’t Shep!” he insists.

I stare at Charlie in the backseat. Gillian watches from her mirror. Better not to argue. Still, Duckworth had to have had
some help.

“Maybe that’s where the photos come in,” I continue. “Maybe they were the other people who were in on it… from the black market…
or other rogue agents from the Secret Service—Duckworth could’ve been keeping their pictures as insurance.”

“Then why didn’t he have photos of Gallo and DeSanctis?” Gillian asks.

It’s a good question. Jerking the wheel toward the exit, Gillian leaves the causeway behind and curves onto Alton Road. I
stare back down at the photos. They’re not glossy, like an actual print. They’re flat—like they came from a color printer.

“Any ideas?” Gillian asks.

“Not really. But when you look at them side by side… the stiff poses… don’t they look like ID photos?”

“Y’mean like a driver’s license?” Gillian asks.

“Or a passport,” Charlie says.

“Or maybe a company ID card…” I add.

“At least we saw Katkin’s reaction,” she says. “That alone tells us they weren’t people from the VC.”

“I still think they’re people your dad trusted,” Charlie says. “It’s like the nondisclosure agreement—you don’t safekeep things
that’ll get you in trouble—you keep what you want to protect.”

The car bucks at a red light and Gillian nods at Charlie in the rearview. She knows a good theory when she hears it. “What
if they’re people who helped him with the original idea?”

“Or people he confided in,” Charlie blurts.

“What’s that game company he worked at after Disney?” I ask, suddenly feeling the pump of excitement.

“Neowerks—I think they’re in Broward…”

“I saw the address on an old pay stub,” Charlie jumps in. “In the file cabinet.” There’s a pregnant pause. All three of us
trade glances and taste the adrenaline in the air.

Gillian pulls a hard right down Tenth Street and lurches to a halt in front of her house.

“How far are we from Broward?” Charlie asks.

“Forty minutes at the most,” Gillian replies.

“I’ll make some phone calls—set up an appointment,” I offer, kicking open the car door and helping Charlie squeeze out from
the back. Gillian stays put.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

“I should check in and make sure I still have a job—I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She tosses me the house keys, and with a
wave, she’s gone.

“Oh, I miss her already,” Charlie says. Swiping the keys, he charges up the concrete path and bolts through the front door.
Inside, he goes for the files; I slam the door and head for the phone. But when we hear the locks slide behind us, we follow
the sound and spin around. That’s when we notice all the shades are closed. The whole place is dark. And then… in the corner…
we hear a click. A lamp flicks on in the living room. Every ounce of air leaves my chest.

“Nice to see you, Oliver,” Gallo says from his seat on the sofa. “Now here’s the part that hurts…”

Back by the door, a shadow arches, pouncing toward us. Charlie turns and tries to run, but it’s too late. An arm slices the
air toward him. Behind me, Gallo grabs me around the neck. And the last thing I see is DeSanctis’s fist as it collides with
my brother’s face.

W
elcome to Miami Airport—how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m here to pick up a car,” Joey said to the petite blond woman at the National car rental counter. “It should be under
the name Gallo.”

“Gallo…” the woman repeated as she typed it into the computer. “Nothing under Gallo…”

“Actually, he probably put it under DeSanctis,” Joey added, forcing the bluff. The Formica counters for the other car companies
stretched out across the terminal, but when she got off the escalator, Joey went straight for National. After all, when it
came to government discounts, there were only three companies the Secret Service travel office listed as “preferred providers.”
National was number one.

“Any luck?” Joey asked.

Squinting at her screen, the rental agent looked confused. “I’m sorry… but it says here that someone already picked it up.”

“Oh, those enthusiastic
bastards,
” Joey laughed. “I
knew
they’d jump on the early flight—anything to catch a bad guy.” Flipping open her wallet, she whispered “United States Secret
Service,” and flashed a gold badge. Sure, she covered the words “Fairfax County Police” with the tips of her fingers, but
as Joey learned over the years, a badge was more than a badge. Especially when it was her dad’s. “We were supposed to meet
in Miami and… Can I borrow your phone?” she asked. “I’ll try their cell.”

Stretching the cord over the counter, the rental agent punched in the number Joey gave her. Through the receiver, Joey heard
her own answering machine pick up. Suddenly serious, she looked up at the rental agent. “All I’m getting is voicemail…”

“I-Is that bad?”

“Do you have any idea where they went?” Joey asked nervously.

“Actually, we’re not supposed to—”

“They’re my partners,” Joey pushed. “If something happens…”

The rental agent was about to say something, but hesitated.

“It’s an emergency,” Joey pleaded. “Please…”

The agent ripped a paper map from the stack and anxiously slid it on the counter. “They wanted directions to South Beach…
That’s what I gave them…”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Tenth Street—they didn’t give an address—but it’s a small area…”

“I’ll find it,” Joey said, grabbing the map. “How fast can you get me a car?”

T
he third punch pummels my jaw, and the sour-sweet taste of blood floods across my tongue.

“Leave him alone—!” Charlie screams, though he barely gets the words out. Whipping his arm forward, DeSanctis pounds the butt
of his gun against Charlie’s jaw.

“
Where is it!?
” Gallo roars in my face, winding up for another blow. He grips my tie and swings me back toward the couch. “Tell us where
it is, Oliver! Say the words and we’re out of your life!”

It’s a simple promise and an absolute lie. The only reason we’re still breathing is because we have what they want.

“Don’t tell ’em shit!” Charlie yells, blood dripping down his chin. DeSanctis cranks his arm back and this time plows Charlie
in the ear. Crumbling to his knees, Charlie screams and cups the side of his head.

“
Charlie!
”

“
Don’t move!
” Gallo warns, tugging me back by the neck.

“Hit him again and you’ll get nothing!” I shout.

“You think we’re
negotiating?
” Gallo barks, still holding me by my tie. He smashes me into the bookcase, where a dozen engineering texts tumble to the
floor. Refusing to let me catch my breath, he grabs me by the lapels and wings me back toward the endtable. The lamp shatters
and picture frames go flying. I’m stumbling… fighting to stay on my feet… but I can’t get my balance—or the gun that’s in
the back of my pants. “
Y’know how much of my time you wasted?
” he continues to rage. “
You have any idea what this cost me?
”

Like a wrestler in the ring, he regrabs the knot on my tie, whips me around, and tosses me back into the bookcase. On impact,
the edge of the shelf stabs me in the back of the neck, and my head snaps back. For a second, I can’t see. Pulling me forward,
Gallo winds up and shoves me back again. Then again. Each time I collide, a stack of books rains down on me. “
Where’s the money, Oliver! Where’d you fuckin’ put it?
”

Spit flies from his mouth. There’s a small gap between his yellowing teeth. On each impact, the world blinks on and off. I’m
about to pass out, but Gallo won’t let up. Eventually, he wraps his claws around my throat and pins me back against the bookcase.
I can’t breathe. As he tightens his grip, I fight for air. Nothing comes but an empty gasp. “P-Please…”

Over Gallo’s shoulder, Charlie’s still on the ground, holding his ear. DeSanctis stands over him with a cocky grin. And behind
them all… I swear, something moves in the kitchen. Before I can react, the whole room fades and spins sideways. It’s like
being underwater, sucked down by the tide. Gallo squeezes tight and I float back to last night. Back to Gillian. She’s all
I see—which is why, when I open my eyes—I almost don’t believe she’s actually there.

Gillian tears into the living room swinging the glass blender straight at the back of DeSanctis’s head.

There’s a loud, haunting thunk as it ricochets against his skull. The impact sends a zigzagging fracture down the side of
the jar, even as it sends DeSanctis staggering forward and tripping over Charlie.

As Gallo turns to follow the sound, I grab a stray hardcover book from the shelf and crack him in the back of the head. It
knocks him off-balance, which is all Gillian needs to rush in close. Gallo reaches for his gun, but he doesn’t have a chance.
Already in mid-swing, Gillian wheels the blender jar through the air and catches Gallo on the side of the head. But just as
the jar collides with his skull, there’s a loud crash… the fracture gives way… and the glass shatters into hundreds of tiny
shards which flick against my chest. In Gillian’s hand, all that’s left is the solid glass handle. On the carpet, Gallo’s
dazed, but not out.

“
Let’s go!
” Gillian shouts as she grabs me by the hand. Coughing and fighting to catch my breath, I step over Gallo and go straight
for Charlie, who’s just now picking his head up from the carpet. His eyes flit back and forth—first at Gillian, then to me,
then back to Gillian. He’s in shock. Gillian takes one arm; I take the other. We scoop him up by the armpits and pull him
to his feet.

“You okay? Can you hear me?” I ask.

He nods, quickly finding his equilibrium. “Get us out of here,” he demands. There’s no fear in his voice. Just anger.

Gillian leads the way. Not to the front door—to the bedrooms in the back. Where she snuck in. She’s first… then Charlie… then
me. But just as I fly forward, something grabs me by the ankle. And twists. Hard. An electric shock of pain shoots up my leg
and I crash to the floor. Behind me, DeSanctis grips my ankle, refusing to let go. He’s on his stomach, clawing his way closer.
A trickle of blood drips from his hairline, down the side of his forehead, to his cheek.

Scurrying backwards on my elbows, I kick wildly, fighting to get free. His nails dig deep into my ankle. I can’t get him off.
“Charlie!”

I look back frantically, but he’s already there. My brother’s thick black shoe stomps down on DeSanctis’s wrist. Howling in
pain, DeSanctis lets go and looks up at Gillian.

“What’re you—?”

Before DeSanctis can finish, Gillian lets loose with a whirlwind kick that crashes into the side of his head. His neck snaps
to the side with an unearthly crack. It doesn’t slow Gillian down. Lashing out, she kicks him again. And again. Her clunky
shoe hits like a brick. Over and over.

“Enough,” Charlie says, pulling her back. From my place on the carpet, he’s twenty feet tall. The new big brother. “
Let’s go!
” Charlie shouts, reaching down and tugging me to my feet.