Ten minutes and counting. He tossed the coats onto the leather sofa; Shep stands up and waves a piece of paper in front of my face.
-What is this? -I ask.
—A transfer request; you just have to put the destination.
I open the briefcase and look for the Red Sheet marked England. Charlie leans over so he can use his back as a desk. I type as fast as I can and copy the account information.
It's almost finished.
—What is the final destination? Shep asks.
Charlie gets up and I stop writing.
-What are you talking about?
"Last transfer." Where do we put the money?
I look at Charlie, but he gives me a blank stare.
I thought you said...
"…that you could choose where the money goes," Shep interrupts. That's what I said, and you can send it wherever you like, but you'd better get it into your head that I want to know the final destination.
"That wasn't part of our agreement," I protest.
"Guys, can't we save this for later?" Charlie implores.
Shep leans forward, very annoyed.
"The deal was for you two to be in control…not get rid of me at the same time.
"Has it suddenly gotten into your head that we want to have the whole cake?" -I ask.
"Guys, please," Charlie insists. We run out of time...
"Don't fuck with me, Charlie, I'm just asking for some guarantee."
—No, what you are asking for is our guarantee. Which is what is supposed to keep us safe. "I just hope you both realize that you're about to blow everything," Charlie says. None of us matters. That's always the way it is when it comes to money...everything gets personal. "I just want to know where the fucking bank is!" Shep bursts out.
-Why? So you can live out your duffel bag fantasy and leave us eating shit?
"Fuck, guys, nobody's abandoning anybody!" Charlie yells. He steps between us and takes my stack of red pages from me.
-What are you doing? He yelled, trying to get them back.
"Let them go!" Charlie insists with one last tug. The top two pages are torn in half and I am thrown backwards. I manage to regain my balance, but not fast enough to stop him. Turning to Shep, he flips through to the final pages, removes the Red Sheet marked Old, and folds it so that only one bank on the list can be seen.
"Charlie... don't do it!"
Too late. He covers the account number with his fingers and holds the sheet up before Shep's eyes.
-You got it?
Shep takes a quick look at it.
"Thank you... that's all I'm asking for."
-What the hell is wrong with you? - scream.
"I don't want to hear it," Charlie tells me. If we stay here arguing, nobody's going to get anything, so let's get the fucking paperwork over with. We only have five minutes!
I turn to the clock to check for myself.
"Eyes on the booty, Oliver. Eyes on the loot," says Shep.
"Come on, come on, come on!" Charlie encourages me as I fill in the last line. You just gave up our entire insurance policy, but it's not worth losing everything. Not when we're this close to getting it. Charlie puts the red pages back in my briefcase; Under his arm I have a pile of forty abandoned beads. I leave Shep's office without looking back. Forward only.
"Way to go, brother," Charlie yells.
Here we go. It's time to catch some dough.
Charlie closes the door behind me and I hurry down the fifth floor hallway, trying to control a stack of papers. To my right, the public elevator doors close slowly, so I pick up speed and head straight for the private elevator at the back.
The indicator panel above the doors is on eight...then seven...six...I can still get it. I break into a run, punching in the six-digit code as fast as I can. Just as I dial the last number, the pile of abandoned accounts gives way. I support the entire stack against my chest, but the pages have already begun to slide onto my stomach. They fall to the ground and scatter like an amoeba. I kneel down and pick them up feverishly. At that moment the elevator reaches the fifth floor. The doors open and I see two pairs of elegant shoes. But they're not just anyone's fancy shoes...
"Can I give you a hand with that, Oliver?" Lapidus asks when I look up to see his wide grin.
"Still using the boss's code, huh?" Quincy adds, placing his arm in front of the door to hold it open.
I smile forcefully and feel the blood drain from my face.
-You need...?
-No. I already have it," I insist. You can continue.
"Don't worry," Quincy jokes. We love to wait.
Seeing that they have no intention of leaving, I tidy up the stack of papers, get up, and join them inside the elevator.
"What floor, sir?" Quincy asks.
"I'm sorry," I stammer.
With a new forced smile, I extend my hand and press the four. My fingers tremble on the button.
"Don't let him bug you, Oliver," Lapidus says. He is furious that he does not have his own protected from him.
As always, it's the perfect reaction to the situation. As always, that's exactly what I want to hear. And as always…when he pulls me close for a fatherly hug, he carves his initials into my back. Die, Lapidus. The scapegoat is gone.
A metallic sound is heard and the elevator doors open.
"See you tomorrow," I say, feeling like I'm about to throw up. Quincy nods; Lapidus pats me on the shoulder.
"By the way," Lapidus adds, "did you have a nice chat with Kenny?
"Oh yeah," I say as I walk away. It was very good.
While I fight against the vertigo that crushes my head I cross the corridor almost running. The look ahead. Stay the course. By the time I get to La Jaula my whole body is numb.