“I vote we quit pussyfooting around and cash in our chips,” Lionel said as we made ready to lower the sealed containers. “The German? He could handle this weight.”

“The German isn’t safe. His partners were pinched in a sting. The Feds will have him under a magnifying glass.”

“I hadn’t heard. Who then?”

“Japanese liaison to the U.S. government might be our ticket. Former liaison. Sonny loves America and Elvis. Three years stateside near Graceland as a teen. I stayed with him in Tokyo when the Outfit sent me over on business. Elvis memorabilia out the wazoo.”

“Rhinestone suit?”

“Rhinestone suit.”

“Isn’t he with the yakuza?” Lionel said.

“Sonny provides equal opportunities to all criminal gangs. I have to be careful. He likes me, but we aren’t bosom buddies. He makes one call and we’re boned. These ex-diplomats aren’t loyal to anybody.”

“Man, whatever gets us paid.”

“The loot isn’t going to evaporate.”

“We might.”

Touché. My left hand trembled. In the dim, and not so dim, past I’d broken it, had muscles torn, the fingers dislocated. Healed, all healed, yet the nerves were weakening, the rubber bands of sinew and tendon losing their snap-back, and no matter how many racquet balls I crushed daily, or spade-loads of dirt I shoveled, the status quo slipped and my hand quivered when it grew tired and it grew tired ever more quickly.

“Hold tight a bit longer. I’ll ask Meg for help.”

“You ready to take it there?” he said. “You loop her in, this gets real.”

“She’s a research genius. Be peachy to know what we’re dealing with.” Detective license in my wallet notwithstanding, my girlfriend was the brains in the relationship.

“Kinda your job.”

“I’m too busy getting punched in the face.”

He hefted a stone and chucked it onto the pile.

“Does the origin matter? Gotta figure it’s blood money, pure filth, the veritable root of evil. Get it laundered, problem solved. Who cares where it came from as long as we know where it’s going?”

Any counter I threw at him would be weak.

“Blood money tends to carry a curse. I don’t want to get bitten in the ass down the road.”

“Brother, we were screwed the moment we walked into the madman’s lair.” He dropped his cigarette butt and commenced digging again. “Go read one of your books on mythology. Any of them. Curses get stronger with time. Dumping it for whatever we can get is the smart play.”

“The smart play is to douse it in gasoline and strike a match.”

He laughed as if I were making a joke.

Increasingly, there were moments when I wished heartily that we were capable of making the smart play. Just once.

■■■

Nature has everything plotted to a gnat’s ass. Her vast blueprint overwhelms our ability to fully comprehend the true shape of reality. We glimpse points of intersection, we hear phantom notes on a cool autumn breeze, but seldom apprehend the greater symphony at play.