The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [73]
“Maybe Lapidus wanted him to go to business school.”
“It’s not just B-school, Noreen. Pay attention to the details. In Oliver’s recycling bin was a subscription to SpeedRead. Y’know what that is?” When Noreen didn’t answer, Joey explained, “They put out a monthly pamphlet summarizing all the top business books so you can have something smart to say at cocktail parties. In Oliver’s world, he actually thinks that matters. He thinks the system works. That’s why he waits in line—and that’s why he goes out with Beth.”
“I’m not sure I’m following…”
“And I’m not sure there’s anything to follow,” Joey admits. “I can’t describe it… it’s just that… people who date the Beths of the world… they’re the last ones to plan a three-hundred-million-dollar heist.”
“Wait a minute,” Noreen blurted, “so now you think they’re—”
“They’re not innocent,” Joey insisted. “If they were, they wouldn’t be running. But for Oliver to leave his happy little comfort zone… there’s clearly something else we’re not seeing. People don’t change their spots without a damn good reason.”
“If it makes you feel better, Fudge told me we should have most of the research tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” Joey said as she turned onto Bedford Avenue. Unlike the last time she was here, the light gray sky was now pitch black, making it look less like a neighborhood and more like a dark alley. Still, even in the darkness, one thing stood out: the telephone company truck parked in front of Maggie Caruso’s building. Pulling in close, Joey glided by the van and studied her rearview. Two agents were in the front bucket seats.
“Everything okay?” Noreen asked through the cell phone.
“I’ll tell you in a second.” Heading halfway up the block, Joey ducked the car into a private driveway diagonally across from the building and cut the engine. Close enough to see, but still far enough not to be noticed. Squinting toward the van, she knew it didn’t make sense. Black bag jobs were supposed to be in and out. If they were still here, something was up. Maybe they found something, Joey thought. Or maybe they were waiting for—
Before she could finish the thought, tires screeched and a car turned onto the block.
“What’s going on?” Noreen asked.
“Shhhh,” Joey whispered even though Noreen’s voice only came through the earpiece. The car was moving fast—but it wasn’t someone passing through. Coasting past the van, the car bucked to a halt right in front of a fire hydrant. Joey shook her head. She should’ve known.
The doors swung wide, and Gallo and DeSanctis stepped into the night air. Without a word, DeSanctis opened the back door and extended a hand to Maggie Caruso. As she stepped out, her shoulders were slumped, her chin quivered, and her coat hung open clumsily. DeSanctis led her toward the building, but even in silhouette, it was easy to see she was a mess. She wasn’t getting upstairs without help. They must’ve torn her apart, Joey thought.
“I’ll be up in a second,” Gallo called out as he crossed around to the trunk. But the instant Maggie and DeSanctis disappeared, he headed down the block, straight for the van.
The driver rolled down his window, and Gallo reached in to shake his hand. At first, it looked like nothing more than a thank-you between friends—quick nodding; head back laughing—then just like that, Gallo stopped. His posture tensed and the driver handed him something. “Since when?” Gallo asked in a quiet roar. The driver stuck his hand out the window and pointed up the block. Straight at Joey.
“Aw, crap,” she whispered.
Gallo whirled around and their eyes locked. Joey’s throat locked up. Gallo’s dark glare sliced through her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gallo thundered, storming straight at her car.
“Joey, are you okay?” Noreen asked.
There was no time to answer. Joey thought about starting her car, but it was too late. He was already there. Thick knuckles rapped against her window. “Open up,” Gallo demanded.
Knowing the drill,