into his cell by a uniformed officer. The
Angelito
of Death. Gareth
didn’t move. He couldn’t. The criminal sat down on the lower bunk,
out of Gareth’s view.
Time passed.
“What’s your name?” said the Latino.
Gareth’s mind raced. “Dave,” he said. “Dave Miller. I’m in for
armed robbery.”
“Dave Miller, huh?” said Milo, putting on a tough act, the way his
brother told him to if he ever went to the slammer. “They told me I
was with a
Garrett Shitbrain
or something.”
“No, I’m dead—er,
Dave
.”
“I’m Milo Hernandez. But let me tell you, I won’t be here long. I
got buddies in high places, and they need me to get out as soon as
possible. I’m a man on a mission.
Comprendé?”
Gareth comprendéd. The tension was getting too much to bear.
“Listen, Milo,” said Gareth shakily, “First let me just say that I’m
very rich, which you probably know. All that money can be yours.
You can take my lifetime fortune and go live like a king for the rest of
your life. But there’s one thing you have to do to get it. You have to
not
kill me.”
Milo listened attentively. He must have been pretty good at the
tough guy act to make the guy freak out like this. What a deal! All he
had to do was not kill this guy, which would be easy not to do. As long
as this guy didn’t ask him to bend over or anything, Milo wouldn’t
touch a hair on his head. And the pay was pretty good. But there had
to be a catch.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch, just as long as you or your buddies don’t hurt me in
any way, shape or form.”
His buddies didn’t give a rat’s ass about this guy. “Sure, man,” he
said, “Deal.”
“Deal? You mean yes?” Gareth almost giggled.
“Yeah. You got some kind of a contract or something?” Milo said
calmly.
“Well, not exactly, but we can work out the particulars,” Gareth
was excited, but suddenly wondered if he should have offered less.
“Tell you what, though,” Milo said, feeling guilty, “Why don’t you
keep some for yourself. I don’t need that much cash. How much you
got anyway?”
“About a hundred million dollars.”
H O L Y S H I T !
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