“Ten thousand,” the woman countered.
“A Lear would cost him thirty-five, minimum. Plus five for stinking up the cabin with his fish.”
“Twelve.”
“Seventeen.”
“Fifteen.”
“US Cash.”
“Half before.”
“Half after,” Melissa closed the deal.
The woman reached into her portfolio again and handed across an envelope.
Melissa handed both the envelope—which she’d bet already had seventy-five hundred-dollar bills in it—and the contract to Carla as if it was her job to deal with such things.
“Take care of these.”
Carla studied her a moment, then guessed Melissa’s intent correctly. She riffled the envelope, then pulled out a lighter and set the one-page contract on fire.
“We depart in ten minutes,” the woman said crisply and stepped back into the sunlight.
“What the hell, Moore?” Chad came up
