Page 43 of Monk
Spooner’s eyes widen. “Bullshit.”
I shake my head. “Nah. His team was stationed at my base in Afghanistan for a little while. Interrogated some high-value targets we captured.”
Spooner rocks back on his heels like I punched him in the gut and lets out a long breath. He looks off into the distance for a long moment, and I can see him doing the same mental calculus both Cosmo and I have both already gone through before arriving at the same conclusion.
“Shit,” he finally utters.
“I think the best thing we can do is carry on like nothing’s wrong. You don’t want to tip him off that you know,” Cosmo says.
Spooner nods. “Yeah, probably so. We’ll handle it.”
Cosmo leans close to him. “I don’t want to know. And I don’t want any of our names comin’ up. You understand?”
Spooner gives him an incredulous look. “I fuckin’ hate rats, man. You actually think I’d turn rat?”
“Nah. Just want to make sure to put it out there,” Cosmo says.
“Fair enough,” Spooner says.
“Okay, so let’s get this deal done then,” I say.
I signal to Max, and a moment later, he brings one of the ARs we’re selling over. Spooner takes it, giving it a quick inspection. He steps away and fires a couple of rounds. He nods and hands it back to Max.
“Looks good,” he says.
“Like we agreed, two grand a pop. I’ve got sixty in the van,” Cosmo says.
Spooner nods and hands the duffel bag over to Cosmo, who then hands it to me, and I, in turn, hand it to Max.
“Put it in the strongbox in the van. Lock it up tight, Prospect,” I tell him.
We watch in silence as Spooner’s men unload the crates from our van and load them into theirs. All the while, we’re watching Adam… or whatever his real name is. The anger is radiating off the big man and I know whatever he has in store for the rat isn’t going to be pleasant.
“Looks like we’re all done here,” Spooner says as his men close up their vans.
Cosmo shakes his hand. “Until next time.”
The big man nods. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Cosmo gestures to me. “Thank the kid. He’s the one who remembered the guy.”
“Appreciate it, Monk,” he says.
I nod, but don’t offer my hand. Like I said, I don’t like white supremacists. If he takes offense at it, he gives no sign. Instead, he inclines his head, giving me a nod of respect before he turns and heads back to his vans. Cosmo and I stand there watching until their taillights disappear.
“Think they’ll ever find his body?” I ask.
Cosmo shakes his head. “Doubt it.”
A worm of disgust, thick and oily, squirms in my gut, and I find myself wondering if the man has a wife and kids, and whether or not she’s waiting on pins and needles for her husband to come home. I push that all out of my head, ruthlessly cutting off all thoughts and feelings about it.
“It was him or us. Wasn’t even a decision,” I say.
Chapter Seventeen
Kasey
“Okay, and that should do it,” the salesman, a gangly kid named Howie says.
