Thirty Three

The twins get home at four, Ellen's already there.
"Classes only run four hours or so. This isn't going to suck up as much of my day as I thought. I can still make dinner."
Katya, "As you wish, but we are fine with takeout until classes are done."
Ellen, "I'll mix it up. Can we go to the range this weekend? I need more rifle time."
Katja, "Da, sisters also, you are better wiz rifle than us. We will go Sunday, bring something seemple for lunch, work on rifle range. Class ees good?"
"Yeah! The people have some experience, but it's all over the lot. Most of 'em seem to want to get jobs as chefs. There's a couple like me who just want to do more interesting stuff at home."
Katja, "You don't anyway want to open restaurant?"
"Not even a little. I love cooking for us. The hassle of managing people, ordering food in volume, long, long days. I'm glad somebody likes to do it, it ain't, isn't, me. I gotta learn to talk better, you guys have to straighten me out when I get too country, okay?"
Katya, "You will read to us before cocktail time, then we can speak only Russian until after dinner."
"Whatcha...what do you want me to read?"
Katya, "Does not matter, as long as it is proper English. Maybe New York Times newspaper online. Pick a story and read it to us. Speak slowly, make good enunciation, which means say it correctly."
Ellen reads two articles from the Arts section, about a play, another about a new book. Then a couple of opinion columns.
"Sure have a lot of opinions."
Katya, "We do not care about opinion, just for you to practice how to say things."
Ellen, "I do okay?"
Katya, "Okay, still draw out words, but this is your first time for reading out loud. In two or three months, you will have almost no accent. I have a different accent than American girl, we still put adverbs different place in sentence than native English speaker."
"I really, that isn't right either, need to get rid of my ain'ts and, what do they call 'em, them?...double negatives, like 'not no way' or 'I shouldn't never,' sounds dumb."
Katja, "When you read, record yourself on phone, then play back later. Eef you leesten to your own voice, it will maybe help."
Ellen, "That is a good idea, okay, tomorrow I start. Remember, help me, don't let my country tongue slide by."
Katja, "Country tongue can slide on sisters later."
Ellen giggles, "I got you covered sweet thing."
The weeks slide by, business is good, the sugar bread business, there hasn't been a call for conflict resolution. Regular Sunday runs to the gun range result in excellent accuracy at distance, between a hundred and two hundred yards. Considering the caliber of the rifles, that's about as far as they can rely on to hit a target where they want to hit a target. They don't need to become snipers, haven't ever used the rifles for executions. Their best skills are with handguns. All three can stick fast moving targets up to fifty yards. Then, on a practice home burglary, they come away with two Remington twelve gauge shotguns and a whole case of shells.
Katya reads up on the guns, then discovers skeet, trap and sporting clays. In trap, the clay is launched away from the shooter, skeet clays cross in front of the shooter, sporting clays are launched from a variety of different spots. They buy and set up automatic throwers, which they can adjust to fire in any direction, side to side or out and away at a variety of angles. The skill required for consistency is high, and the girls run through shells like candy corn. They go from the occasional hit, to regular hits, to more often than not.
Ellen, "This is the most fun shooting. Now, I think we move to picking off clays with pistols, think you can do it?"
Katya, "We start close, cut down the throwing speed, then increase distance and speed as we learn. We can use small gun, twenty two, ammunition is cheap."
Katya adjusts the throwing machine to send the clays out sideways, that is, not like a Frisbee parallel to the ground, rather perpendicular to the ground. It works fine, the clays fire out high, they get a few shots to hit a fatter target.
Ellen, "Dang, this is tougher than it looks. We do okay close range, but get out twenty five, thirty yards, it's more misses than hits."
Katja, "We need only more practice. Time to go now, drive back, clean gun, will be already time for cocktail vodka."
"Geez, you're right, where'd the day go?"
They get the shooting range squared away, lock up the house, drive to Houston and home. Have to clean two shotguns and three small automatics, Ruger 22/45 Rimfires. They look like forty fives, but use .22 long rifles, a common and relatively inexpensive cartridge.
It's six thirty when they finish and load the weapons in the gun safe, by the time they shower and regroup, it's seven.
Ellen pours drinks, "Looks like a takeout night, what are we in the mood for?"
Katya, "The Chinese place."
Ellen calls, they get the same thing every time, Szechuan chicken and garlic shrimp with Chinese vegetables, won ton and hot and sour soup.
While Ellen and Katja fetch, Katya reviews receipts from the shops on her laptop, all the day’s sales are posted as they happen, then summed. Katya can tell what each shop did, by product, what was left over, and the net profit for the day. Anything that doesn't move is taken off the shop's daily offerings. Neighborhoods vary, some of the Mexican breads sell well in two stores but hardly at all in the other two. Katya has the system automated, the bakers come in at three, there is an exact list of what's to be made and how many pieces. There’s enough historical data to predict what stores will sell what on any given day. It varies predictably by day of week. Big business on Saturday and Sunday, drop on Monday, builds each day to Friday. She knows what moves at what time of day, early morning, then the school kids come around, the lunch crowd looking for filled croissants and sandwiches, a lull, then the school kids near closing. The retired crowd is predictable throughout the day, morning guys and afternoon guys.
They return with containers of tasty oriental, Ellen ladles out the soups, she likes won ton, the twins hot and sour. She pours white wine, entrees warm in the oven.
Katja spears a won ton from Ellen's soup, she likes the chewy meat filled dumpling, "Ees gud zoup. Hot and zour must be just thick, not thin, but not too much cornstarch. They add more vegetable as well. Next time, we will haf cooked shreemp and add to zoup."
Ellen, "That's a good idea, hot and sour shrimp soup. I learned how to boil shrimp from my granny. This weekend, I'm gonna, going to, make us spicy jumbo boiled shrimp with corn on the cob and whole onion. Fresh French bread and gobs of butter."
Katja, "You never make before."
"Never thought of it until you brought up adding shrimp to the soup. The trick to shrimp is not to boil them too long. Get the water hot, add spices, add the shrimp. Five minutes after they start boiling, turn off the heat, cover and soak a half hour. I'll make up a tangy cocktail sauce, we'll have beer, got to have cold beer with boiled shrimp."
Katya pulls vodka from the freezer, pour three large shots, leaves one for Ellen. She and Katja move to the couch, strip, sip vodka and make out.
Ellen comes along, "Who's first? Katya...spread 'em sweetie, I got things to do and I’m doin’ them to you."

Thirty Four

Katya, "Penny has job for us, one hundred."
Ellen, "You're makin' her good money, gettin' half and all."
Katya, "She has risk, talk to client, collect money. If client doesn't pay second half, she has to pay us anyway."
"Has anyone not paid before?"
Katja, "Nyet, but the deal is, we get paid half of total, she ees collection. Eef some person tries to cheat, we would find and collect."
Ellen, "Depending on if she even knows who it is."
"We could find out. It will be somebody the target knows."
"Like you say, it's revenge or money, just find out who's gonna feel better after the conflict is resolved."
Katja, "Da, yes, better eef they just pay. They make deal, they live with deal, or we will make them pay. Arrangement wiz Penny ees, if we haf to collect, we keep all."
Ellen, "Where's the work?"
Katya, "Miami Florida. Target is a drug dealer. Penny says job came from gang who hired me to kill cop in San Antonio, They have connections in Florida, those connections are looking to get rid of competition. San Antonio tells Florida they can get competitor dead without complications."
Ellen, "Drug lords outsourcing hits. Guess it's no different than the military outsourcing to contractors, when do we leave?"
"Sister and I will handle, you are in cooking school, go to class."
Ellen, "I can miss a coupla days. I don't like you going to off a drug lord on your own, them guys, those guys are assholes."
Katya, "Let's do it this way. Katja and I go to Miami, look it over. If we can do it easy, we do it, come home. If it looks like a problem, you fly out. We will not do anything stupid, if we need a third, we wait. We can go Wednesday, check out the job Thursday and Friday, maybe even resolve conflict. If not, and we need you, you come out Friday afternoon."
Ellen, 'Fair enough. Just don't take any chances. This is supposta be simple work. The target don't...doesn't...know we're coming, we hit 'em and split. Not get into shootouts with drug gangs."
Katja, "We see, we shoot, no gun battle wiz gang. We are no weedeo game."
Katya, "Ship a rifle, a .308, and two Glocks. Send them to the hotel in Miami. Three separate boxes, break down the weapons. Pack them in bubble wrap, then in a sturdy box. Then have UPS box them again. Ship with fake ID, use fake return address. Pay in cash. Ship ammunition separate."
Ellen, "Got it. Don't worry, the guns will be there, maybe before you get to the hotel."
As Katya created more names, they opened up private mail box accounts. They have four identities each. Three of the identities have mailboxes. It's not complicated, they don't use them much, cheap and anonymous when they do.
The target is one Diego Rojas, recently of Colombia, in the States legally via marriage to an American citizen he met for one day, the day of the wedding. She collected thirty thousand dollars, he got citizenship. She died tragically a year later, a fatal hit and run, never found the car or driver. Her anguished husband got a hundred grand life insurance payout. Diego is now a single American citizen.
He's an unwelcome interloper in Miami's drug trade. With his connections at home, he has access to quality merchandise, and is distributing that merchandise at cut rate prices all along I-95. Entrenched gangs see profits sag, business dries up. After years of territory disputes, lots of dead people and lost profit, they got organized, cut up the territory and everybody made money. Violent altercations and murder dropped significantly, when that happened cops left them alone. Until Rojas.
His people are particularly violent, the ISIS of drug gangs. Things have deteriorated, murders were down, Rojas comes along, the body count rises. Not just gang members, families of gang members. Law enforcement has to get active again when the murder stats turn. They don't really care about murdered gang members or their families, but the numbers make them look bad and the media gets on their ass.
Enter Katya and Katja. They don't care about murdered gang members either, they care about getting paid.
They survey the scene for two days, Katya calls Penny.
"You need to talk to employer. From my observation, the conflict will not be resolved with one action. There is a brother and two cousins. I can do the job as instructed, but the business will continue as before. Or I can take care of the entire problem."
Penny, "A hundred each?"
"Yes, this is not so simple work. I am going to have to bring in my associate. Once things begin, the others will find out quickly. If they go into hiding, or get more security, complications arise. Speak to contact, let me know."
She clicks off, nothing to do but wait.
Penny works quick, calls back in a half hour, "Done. I'll call when the funds clear, enjoy the town until then."
Katya calls Ellen, "Fly in first available, ship today two more rifles and your Glock."
The twins spend the rest of the day monitoring movements. The brothers meet every morning at a warehouse and office, the cover business is Colombian coffee. Beans in, roasted and packaged, beans out. Three private labels buy the bulk of the product. Ground level warehouse is for the beans, second floor is where cocaine is cut and delivered to dealers.
Younger brother directs product traffic, the cousins direct the street dealers. Diego Rojas oversees, also handles the coffee business.
Katya and Katja are across the street in a van with dark tinted windows. Trucks move all day, some of it coffee.
Katya, "They can move cocaine in coffee truck, but which truck? Doesn't matter, we do not care where drugs go, we want to know where they count the money."
Katja, "Delivery bays and office door are een front, back ees just stairway exit from second floor and one door exit on ground floor. Maybe drug money goes that way. I will find a place to watch. Maybe something happens."
She exits the van, down the block, then behind the building to the next warehouse. This one appears to be vacant, no lights inside, she notices leaves and trash piled up against the bays, they haven't been open in a while. Finds a decent vantage point and waits.
Katya, "Nothing on this side, trucks are gone, they closed the door on the delivery bays, business is over for today."
Katja, "Fancy SUV just came, Cadillac Escalade. He ees by downstairs. Two men come from second floor wiz bag, two beeg ones, you see?"
Katya can see what Katja sees, the men are talking to the driver and passenger. Four bags on the ground, the Escalade drives off, the two take the duffel bags upstairs.
Katya, "They make swap, drug for money, I will come for you, we follow Escalade."
Katja gets in, "They make turn one block, left."
Katya pulls onto the street, the taillights of the big SUV are just visible, it takes a right, Katya guns the van. They follow the Escalade to the expressway, then to South Beach. Down an alley alongside a nightclub. Nothing is happening, it's only six thirty. They watch the SUV stop halfway down the alley, a door opens, the satchels are transferred. The Escalade pulls off, the side door of the club closes.
"Drop off drugs."
Katja, "Club must be distribution place."
"Cocaine is a more upscale business, not like crack or heroin. Anyway, we are not interested in distribution, only curious. I want to know about the money. This is not a small operation, if it was, the people who hired us would stomp it out or just ignore it. Someplace, they are counting money, lots of it. If we are killing brothers and two cousin, we might be able to get some of it."
Katja, "Da, okay. So, ees the money on second floor of warehouse?"
"They took bags upstairs. If the bags have cash, it has to be sorted and counted, not just hundreds, all kinds of bills. Then they have to move it someplace safe. We want to see where they take the cash."
Katja, "Lots of surveillance."
"Ellen comes tonight, then we have three to watch. We will get three cars, one of us will find the money."

Thirty Five

Ellen arrives at nine fifteen, she rents a car and makes the Hampton by ten thirty.
"Guns will be here before ten tomorrow. What do we know so far?"
Katya fills her in.
"Sweet. We get paid two hundred our end and maybe sweep some cash off the table too. We could make a very nice living settling drug scores."
Katja, "Da, and nobody cares who ees dead."
Ellen yawns, time for bed, going to be a few long days.
In the morning Katya takes the first shift, watching the back stairway. Ellen is in another car, Katja a third. Katja roams around while Ellen keeps an eye on the working side. They keep in regular text contact, every fifteen minutes. Katja and Katya can mental, but Ellen can't, they need to know she's safe. The place has guards, guys hanging around that aren't loading or unloading coffee.
Katya texts, 'move cars do not sit in one spot. men are on the roof they make it look like a smoke break but they are not casual they walk the perimeter.'
Ellen replies, 'Katja and I are changing every twenty, but not going to work all day, it's the same two cars.'
'Disappear, we don't need to watch the front. Katja, take the back, but not from your car, park it out of sight.'
Katja ditches her car and finds a convenient tree to lean against. From her vantage point, she can see the back of the warehouse about halfway up. Which means guys on the roof can't see her. 
Katya and Ellen are two blocks away, hanging in Katya's car, Katja mentals her sister, "SUV, Tahoe, black, ees arrive. Men come down with bags. Wait....they are up and down with many bags, this ees money transfer. I will follow this car."
Katya, "I am bringing Ellen, better with two. I will stay and watch warehouse."
Ellen and Katja are following the Tahoe north, away from Miami, up I-95, then off the interstate. They travel on a four lane for a few miles, turn off on two lane asphalt for a mile. Katja backs off when they turn, better to wait, make sure they don't see a car following. If they're transporting a lot of drug cash, they're going to be paranoid.
"Ellen, take a look, see eef car ees gone."
She walks to the turn, looks down the street, back to the car, "Nothing."
Katja makes the turn, they creep down the road looking for the Tahoe.
Ellen, "There, down that drive, that's them. Creepy, nothing out here but that house and its big ass gate. There's a delivery truck and, one, two, three other cars."
Two men appear at the door, walk to the Tahoe, take two bags each and back to the house.
Katja, "This is where they sort and count. Truck ees for bringing sorting people. Probably illegals, peek up someplace, bring here. From inside truck, they haf no idea where they are taken"
Ellen, "That's pretty slick, can't go to the law, and if they do they can't tell them much. But hell, they got so much cash they gotta bring in extra people to count it?"
"Must be, we will find out later. Let's go, we know where money ees. First we must fulfill contract, then we can maybe steal drug gang money."
They return to the hotel, Katya comes along a few minutes later, "Nothing more at the warehouse. Now we will make a plan, where is simplest to get to targets?"
Ellen, "That warehouse is loaded with guards. Do we know where they live? Do they live together?"
Katya, "We were given an address for Rojas."
They take one car. They go armed, maybe luck falls in their laps and they get a shot tonight.
Ellen, "Jaysus, that's a big goddamn place, looks exactly like a movie drug lord's house."
Katja, "Maybe get idea from watching moovey, beeg house, fahncy rug, sweeming pool, girl wiz thong bikini, fat ass beeg teets."
Katya is peering through binoculars, "Cannot see back from here, two cars in drive, four car garage but doors are down. Anyway, house is too big for one person, even with big butt girls."
Katja, "Drive around and see what ees behind house."
The next house is at least a thousand feet down the street, they take a left at the corner, another left, pull in front of a house that would more or less line up with the Rojas place. These homes are spaced for privacy, iron fences separate property lines, huge rows of thick hedges line the fences. From the backyard of one house, you can't see the house behind you.
Katya looks around, "Nobody home."
Katja, "Fence ees no a problem, but house will haf alarm system for sure."
Ellen, "We gonna break into this place?"
Katya, "That would be ideal, maybe can see some of Rojas place from second floor, or roof even. But if we trip alarm, we make a problem, shut off breaker will not help, a place like this is going to have a backup for power failure. But we can get to Rojas property from this property. And since nobody is here, we need to take a look now."
Katja, "I will go, you can see what I see, Ellen stays wiz you. Park someplace else for now, someplace quiet. Geev me binocular."
Katja's out of the car and scaling the iron fence, up like a monkey, holding onto the rails, using her feet to support, one arm up, foot up, next arm up, foot follows. She's on top, over, drops the ten feet to the ground.
Ellen, "Her gymnastics came in real handy, she zipped right up and over."
On the way past the house, she peers into windows, there's furniture, not that much, what's there is dust draped. There are no pictures on the walls. She moves on. The other fence is harder to scale, hedges have grown to and through. She has to use the branches for support and some give way while others hold her weight.
Eventually she drops down to the Rojas side, crawls to the near the edge of the bushes. Binoculars zero in, she can see the pool, half a dozen guys, and, just like the movies, girls in thongs, no tops to cover the double d's, spike heels. Platters of something being passed around by the bimbos, cigars, big jewelry. Diego Rojas is the fat one, brother Jaime is younger, stocky, but not as chunky as Diego. They're in loud sports shirts and shorts, sandals. The two cousins, also brothers, are slim, slicked back hair, dressed less flamboyantly. Dark suits, fresh white shirts, no tie. They look mid twenties, and they look dangerous.
Katja retraces her route, they head to the hotel.
Katya, "House is empty, good for us."
Ellen, "Wonder what the deal is, no for sale sign."
Katya, "They do not put sign. People who cannot afford call and want to see inside fancy house. Real estate agent has a wasted trip."
Ellen, "That's stupid. You can see fancy houses on the internet, furnished and all. Some people have too much time on their hands."
Katja, "We will make more surveillance. They maybe don't haf outside party every night."
Katya, "We also need to get the bars on the fence bent enough to get through. If we have to leave in a hurry, I do not want to have to climb fences."
Ellen, "The fences are for decoration and discouragement, if we bring a length of steel pipe, we can bend one rail enough."
Katja, "And something to make hole in hedges, they are thick and no so seemple to push through."

Thirty Six

Today is nothing, wait around the hotel. Tonight they're back with brute force assistance, a six foot length of pipe. They have three flash suppressed rifles with ten round magazines, three silenced Glocks and several ten round clips all loaded up with jacketed hollow point rounds. You don't want to get shot with one, the bullet mushrooms on impact and makes a mess of your insides.
Down the side, not obvious from the street, Katja and Katya slide the pipe between rails and push the long end. The rail groans but gives. Two more spots and it's wide enough for them to slip through. In back, they clip hedges with pruning shears.
It takes twenty minutes, then there's a hole straight through to the fence. Another application of leverage, another opening to climb through. They do light trimming on the Rojas side, but not to the edge facing the house. If they lay prone, they can sight the Rugers easily. The distance is under a hundred yards. They've practiced up to three hundred, and are deadly efficient at two.
Ellen, "Glad we spent all the time with the rifles, taking them up close would be a bitch."
Katya, "If we have to go in remember, most people, cops even, are lousy at shooting someone. Most shots miss, even when they aim right at the chest. We practice on moving targets, flying targets even. We train to act and react. Do not think, shoot, thinking is too slow."
They take positions, have no idea if an opportunity will arise. There's no activity outside, at least no party. No thong girls, but the pool lights are on and the patio is lit up. Lights come on in the living area, the kitchen is already active. A man is opening wine, a woman cooking on a big commercial stove. Appear to be a butler or valet and a cook. The man is holding up champagne glasses, inspecting for spots, wipes off a couple with a white cloth. He places champagne buckets at the patio table, unopened bottles covered in ice. Four glasses on the patio table...well, well.
The girls spend time peering through the sights, they could hit the champagne glasses from this range. It’s Miami, humid, there’s a breeze, not enough to affect the shot. The rifles are equipped with scopes that determine distance to target, adjust for drop and wind direction. The sites are zeroed at one hundred yards. From this distance there’s nothing to adjust.
Two men appear that aren't targets, Katya says, "Visitors."
Ellen, "We gonna kill everyone?"
"Not unless we have to. We wait."
Drinks are served, champagne opened, Diego and Jaime are entertaining two whoevers, white guys about forty and fifty. The cousins, in tailored black suits with suspicious lumps under their arms are neither drinking nor eating. Silent shadows stand and watch.
Katya, "Cousins are bodyguards, not bosses. Rojas is boss, brother is under boss. Cousins are second level, insulation between bothers and the rest of operation. White guys maybe buy coffee beans, customer of legitimate business."
Dinner is served, eaten, dishes cleared, there is a cake, cut and served by Diego. The butler appears, asks Diego something, his hand waves, he's being dismissed for the evening.
Katya, "Serving man and cook are gone, now only four targets and two guests. Strange, guests still here, why is the help dismissed?"
Three assassins are looking through three scopes, they see Jaime pour Cognac into four snifters, swirl, sniff the brandy, a toast, they all sip. Cigars are lit, the two guests, Jamie and Diego settle into the patio chairs. One of them says something, they all laugh.
Distracted, the two visitors fail to register two cousins directly behind them. The girls watch while garrotes drop around necks and pull tight. Snifters crash on the deck, cigar drops from the mouth of one and lands in his lap.
Katya, "When the two are dead, Ellen takes the cousins, I'll take Diego, Katja Jaime."
The garrotes loosen, three pops that sound like one, then another. So sudden the four men have holes in their heads and blank nothing in their eyes. They collapse together, Diego and Jaime slump in the chairs, cousins backwards to the deck..
Katya, "A quick check."
They lift the cash from wallets and money clips. Ellen pulls back the jacket of one guest, there's a badge, no gun. Same with number two.
Ellen, "Dang, cops, locals. Rojas got brass, killing two detectives."
Katja, "They are dirty cop, or why haf dinner with drug gang boss?"
Ellen, "It sure as hell wasn't about coffee beans."
Katya, "Drag the bodies in the house, lock it up. Maybe buy us a day before somebody starts looking."
Bodies moved, curtains drawn, they search for money, there's a safe but they have no skills to crack it. A little cash in one desk, three or four thousand in hundreds. Katya spots a briefcase on a coffee table, she clicks it open. Money. Packs of hundreds, close the case and take it. Time to lock up, scoot back to the hedges, through the fence to the next fence, to their car.
Katja drives, Ellen asks, “How much?”
“Did not count, not a million, much less.”
"We gonna get the money tonight?"
Katya, "We will go and see how well it is guarded. We can't wait long, once bodies are discovered and word gets out, the money will disappear."
At the counting house. Three cars out front, no van, it's late, midnight. Place is quiet but there are a few external lights over the front, side and rear entrances.
A flash, someone lights a cigarette at the front door, starts walking to the side. A few minutes later, same guy comes into view on the other side.
"Ellen, take him from here, then we go in."
Ruger out, he's less than fifty yards, she clicks the sight back down to the zero set...pop.....guy drops where he's standing.
Katya, "Three entrances, we each take one, shoot anyone who isn't us, no, wait," she goes to one of the cars, fiddle with the handle, yanks it hard, alarm goes off.
They move to the three entrances, front door opens, small man with an AK comes out mumbling, "Fuck, where the fuck is Jorge?"
Focused on the car he walks right past dead Jorge, Katya shoots him in the back of the head, he falls forward on his AK. She pulls it out from under him, slings it over her shoulder, enters the house.
The windows are covered with plywood, can't have cash counters daydreaming, or figuring out where they are. Inside there are lights on, pallets of cash stacked everywhere, covered in vinyl tarps. A pop from the back of the house, Katya moves to the kitchen. Ellen is in front of a large fat guy, he has an arm around her neck and a gun to her head.
"Drop the gun or I shoot the bitch."
Fat Man has grossly overestimated his capability, Katya says in Japanese, "When the gun moves grab it, push up, smash his foot."
Katya, "That's stupid fat boy, shoot me first, then bitch is no problem."
Fat Man is puzzled, she's telling him to shoot her? The gun moves from Ellen's head towards Katya. Then his gun is pointed in the air and something has crushed his left foot. Just as the pain registers, a hole appears in his temple.
Ellen, "Nice work sweetie, fat bastard. I did what we practiced, kept my chin to my chest, I was just about to take a bite out of his lard ass arm when you showed."
Katja comes in, "I keel two inside, two outside dead, fat boy dead, nobody else to keel."
"Get the car, we have to load money."
They haul trash bags of cash until the SUV won't hold any more.
Ellen, "Honeys, we got a shitload of bucks, theys all hundreds and we didn't make a dent."
Katya, "Fill up two of their cars, we will drive ours and theirs to the hotel."
In the Hampton lot, Ellen asks, "What now?"
Katya, "Nothing. Back up cars so plate is not visible. We will take shift and watch until we can get money boxed and shipped. No…Wal-Mart store is open all night, we will get boxes now."
Buy boxes, packing tape, find a failed subdivision. Streets are laid, no houses, dark as death, which suits them. They spend the rest of the night packing wrapped bundles of hundred dollar bills. Ellen has to make runs to two more Wal-Marts for boxes. At seven thirty, they're in a McDonalds doing breakfast and killing time.
Ellen, "Did you count?"
Katya, "A million in hundreds weighs twenty two pounds and will fit in a small microwave oven. We put two million in each box, forty four or forty five pounds, no problem to ship. When UPS and Fed Ex open, we ship most boxes to mail drops. Then we rent big SUV, drive home. We need to get out of Miami today."
Ellen, "I was so busy, how many boxes we got?"
"Fifty four."
Ellen, "Fifty what...fifty four boxes with two million each?"
"One box only has a million eight."
"We got a hundred million? Are you jackin' me? No it ain't...isn' you to kid around. Fuck me twice, a hundred goddamn million dollars."
"Plus money we took off the others, plus two hundred for our end of the job."
Ellen is slack jawed, "I got no idea what to say...what the fuck do we do with a hundred million fuckin' cash?"
Katya, "Dribble nine thousand and change into a half dozen bank accounts over time, pay cash for everything, add cash to the business account deposits for Katya Donut. Over time, it will go from banks to brokerage account. Big money accounts there are common. We need a bigger safe at home."
Ellen, "Can Penny find someone to clean the money for us?"
Katya, "Not going to tell her. As soon as we are out of town, I will call DEA and tip them off to the house. They won't know money was taken, nobody alive has the actual count."
They split up, drive the three cars around to UPS and FedEx, get the boxes shipped, pay extra to have the boxes put into another box. Their story is contents are valuable books they don't want dinged up, they insure the shipments for eight hundred to a thousand dollars each to validate the story. Two boxes is twenty stops, three girls, six or seven stops each. They keep five boxes to drive home with them. Even if by some weird circumstance all the boxes are lost, they still have ten million bucks.
Next stop, ditch the gang cars. They remove and toss license plates, wipe away prints, leave the cars in a crap neighborhood with the engines running and the doors unlocked.
Ellen, "Nobody gonna see them damn cars again."
Katya, "Those cars."
Ellen, "Those cars....I'm getting there."
Rent a Platinum Escalade from a different rental company, drop off the SUV they used for the job. Then it's I-75 North to I-10 West, eleven hundred miles, about sixteen or seventeen hours of drive time.

Previous     Next