Underground, he hung way back until the subway arrived. Guys checked her out, but Maven didn’t see anyone paying her anything more than passing attention.
He boarded the same inbound Green Line train she did, one car away. He could see her through two sets of windows when the jointed cars pivoted on the turns. She stood holding a strap near the door. At Boylston Station, she stepped out and switched cars, boarding his. A simple tail flip, maybe taught her by Royce. No one followed her from one car to the next. She was alone, or so she thought.
Maven sat head-down on a single seat near the center, looking like your typical subway psycho. He didn’t dare look up, as she was standing right next to him. He stared at her brown leather boots and waited.
It was just one stop. She moved to the door at Park Street, and he waited to rise and follow her.
A guy boarded the car, and she received his arm around her waist, greeting him with a kiss. Maven watched from between his coat sleeve and his threadbare cap brim as the doors closed and they huddled close, whispering, smiling.
The guy was lanky, big-nosed, not much to look at. He wore a Dr. Who — length scarf with stripes of black, gray, and white, brown loafers, and a corduroy jacket.
Maven lowered his arm such that his face was fully revealed. If Danielle had eyes for anybody but this stiff, she would have seen Maven sitting not three seats away from her, glaring.
But she didn’t. While the rest of the riders settled into their public-transit funk, she huddled close with Dr. Who, sliding her hand down the seam of his pleated pants, rubbing his cock. She said something more into his ear, and he grinned like a frog being kissed into a prince.
At North Station, they exited, and Maven stood and followed, completely exposed and not caring. He stopped after the turnstile, watching them go off, Danielle clutching the guy’s arm as they disappeared into the swarm. Maven had seen enough. He didn’t care to know any more.
Back home, after sitting on the sofa in a daze, Maven went into his bedroom and started packing. Packing to leave, to walk away, emptying the contents of his bureau drawers onto his bed and stuffing them inside a canvas laundry bag.
He came to an old black hoodie and stopped. It was the sweatshirt he had worn on all those cold nights standing out at the parking lot, watching the city spin around him. He thought he had thrown the thing out. He sat down on the bed with the hoodie in his lap and tried to think through his distress.
Maven was late for the meet-up at the pad. Suarez was leaning over the pool table trying a trick shot. Glade was watching Team America: World Police for the umpteenth time on his media player. Termino was drinking a large protein shake.
“Look who decided to show,” said Termino when Maven walked in.
Even after all these jobs over all these months, the Dynamo had never cottoned to Maven. It was a personality thing; Termino didn’t share in Royce’s high estimation of him. Termino thought Maven was too straight, too smart.
Royce’s sunglasses hung from the collar of his expensive T-shirt. He singled out Maven in that way of his, a glance carrying the same weight as physically pulling Maven aside. “What’s up?”
Maven shrugged, said, “What?”
Termino said, “Maven, you look like ass.”
Suarez said, “Your ass or Milkshake’s?”
“Looks like mine,” said Termino. “Looks at Milkshake’s.”
Royce was still studying Maven. Waiting for an explanation.
Maven said, “Little under the weather.”
Royce neither nodded nor shrugged, only looked away, letting him off the hook for the time being. “It’s not just Maven,” Royce said. “You’re all fucking flat. This isn’t nap time.”
Glade closed his player. Suarez set aside his pool cue.
“Now that I have your attention,” Royce said. “We’re gonna switch it up a bit. Get you guys back feeling frosty and alert. This is something big, and it’s come up suddenly.”
The others moved closer, leaning around the table, except Maven, a sour taste in his mouth.
“It’s a stash house. A currency drop. The wad one of the kingpins ships back to South America for payment. All his honey poured into one pot.”
Termino said, “Sounds lucrative.”
“Seven figures beginning with the number three.”
Glade said, “Bullshit.”
“I give you no guarantees, but that’s the word. Three days from now.”
Maven looked around for Royce’s trademark envelope. “Where’s the phones and intel?”
“This one’s a little different, as I said. We can’t go the usual route. I’m told there is some outside muscle being brought in to oversee this.”
Maven said, “So — no intel?”
“I’ve got enough to get us going.” Royce meant that to be the last word on the subject.
Maven said, “What about product?”
“Money cell is separate, you know that.”
“So this is more of a straight-up heist.”
“A raid,” said Royce. “A takedown.”
Maven said, “A robbery.”
Royce turned fully toward him, responding to Maven’s tone. “And what’s so unusual about that?”
Maven didn’t back down. “No product is a first.”
“This is a backbreaking amount. This is going-out-of-business money. And do I have to do the math for you on what a one-sixth share will bring?”
Maven scowled. He didn’t like having a cool half million dollars dangled in front of him. Plying them with easy money felt condescending.
“I don’t like it,” said Maven.
Royce looked at him, very cool. “You don’t like it.”
“I need to know more.”
Royce kept staring. “I need to know what the fuck has crawled up your ass.”
Maven took that, was braced for it, knowing it was coming. “You’re sending us out there to do a straight-out stickup job with no tech, with no backgrounds, nothing.” Maven looked at the others. “I think we need to know where this is coming from.”
A smile flickered on Royce’s face, energized by the anger aroused by Maven’s blasphemy. “That is the question you don’t ask.”
“I just asked it.”
The stillness of the others reflected the electricity in the room. They didn’t want to move for fear of getting a shock.
Royce looked at them. “What is this? He speaks for any of you?”
Termino made a face as if he were about to spit on the pool table. Glade and Suarez shook their heads.
Maven said, “It’s dangerous enough out there as it is. Now we’re rushing into this thing, dicks in hand, three days? Why can’t we know what you know?”
Royce was too flabbergasted to be furious. “Because I protect my sources. Is there some reason my word isn’t good anymore?”
“Your word is good. It’s just not enough.”
“What is this? You want out? Is that what this is, Maven?”
“Maybe it is.”
Royce looked at the others, registering their shock. “Well, you can’t. Not without our blessing.”
“Your... what?”
“Mutually assured destruction. Remember that? We’ve got a contract between all of us, written in crime. There’s no revolving door here. This ends when we all decide to walk away, and not before. And I mean walk away for good. From the life and from each other.” Royce looked at the others again. “You ready for that? I’m fucking not.”
Termino said, low and menacing, “Maven, what the fuck?”
Suarez was too stunned to speak. Jimmy Glade said beseechingly, “It’s half a million fucking dollars, Mave.”
Royce was finally coming around to anger, bolstered by the others’ support. “Why are you shitting all over my floor like this, Maven? What, I haven’t done quite enough for you?”