“What are the rest of your plans?” Noam whispered.

Hersh said, “My dickhead old man’s inheritance should be cleared any day now. I’m gonna give the insurance company a call this afternoon. I got it all planned out.”

Noam nodded.

“But we need to do somethin’ for money in the meantime, know what I’m sayin’?”

Noam stopped folding laundry. His stomach…boiling acid. He swallowed the bilious taste down.

Hersh went on. “Look. We’re almost busted. I mean your old lady’s cash didn’t exactly go too far. And the jewelry?” He shrugged. “I don’t got a good fence yet. What we need is ready bread, know what I’m sayin’?”

Noam looked at him—at that scary lopsided smile. Hersh got off the bed and went over to the suitcase. He rummaged through the contents, then pulled out something metallic. He explained that it was the same kind of weapon used by the LAPD—a Beretta semi-automatic. He’d bought this one from a buddy of his back in Hackensack, New Jersey—an ex-con who dealt in firearms.

“Cons can’t own guns legally, you know,” Hersh said.

“But that’s all shit. You can get anything you want if you have enough money and know who to ask.”

He petted the gun gingerly.

“You think I had you rip off some skins, just to get some skins? Huh? Huh?”

“I don’t know,” Noam whispered.

“I was just givin’ you a trial run,” Hersh said. “Figurin’ out if you could handle bigger assignments. Testing you for the next time around, know what I’m sayin’?”

Noam felt nauseated.

“Now, I’m not sayin’ we’re gonna take anybody out,” Hersh said. “But sometimes…you know me, I love knives. But knives don’t always do it. People just don’t take knives seriously and that can be messy. I mean, you do something, you want it clean, not messy, right?”

Noam didn’t answer. Hersh went on.

“Knives are great for a surprise attack. Some joker wants to fight you off, you just get in there and stick ’im. Right between the ribs. You go up on it and move it around—well, never mind. See, I love knives but guns get attention.”

Noam remained silent. Vey is mir. What did Hersh have in mind now?

Hersh said, “You did good on the skins. See, I was testin’ you. Well, congratulations, Nick-O.” He shoved the gun into Noam’s hands. “You aced the test.”

19

From the airplane window, disks of white cloud looked like lily pads floating in a pond. Decker leaned his seat all the way back and stretched his legs. He wore a kelly-green knit shirt, faded jeans, and a new pair of Reeboks—first time all week he’d dressed in casual clothing. Rina had upgraded their tickets to business class—an absolute necessity for anyone six-four. For just a moment, he let himself relax.