Gallows Pole, page 31
He nodded. “The deposit will be made, in clean funds, to the back accounts you referenced, by the end of the day. Minus,” he smiled thinly, “the usual handling fee.”
“You should know,” she said, dropping her voice, “that some of the currency is…somewhat stained.” Poor Udovin, she thought. He was a fool to have let her in on his secret, then turned his back on her in the money room. Perhaps he’d thought she’d bed him in gratitude. Stupid Russians, always thinking with either their bellies or their testicles.
“Thank you for letting us know,” he said gravely. “But it will not be a problem. This is, after all, Miami.”
“Of course,” she said. They had reached the street outside. It was a typical Miami night: hot, humid, bright and loud.
“Will you be staying in Miami long?” Navarro asked politely.
“Doubtful,” she said.
“Well, wherever you go,” he said, and there was a gleam in his eye as he said it, “good hunting.”
“Danke,” she said. She raised her hand to hail a cab. “I’m sure there will be.”
THE END
J. D. Rhoades, Gallows Pole
