“And why not me?” Jerry protested.
“Because you’re going to be quite busy with something else,” Cold replied. “You and Jules are going to create a murder weapon for us.”
“Eh?”
“They haven’t recovered the knife that killed Don Rafaello. I need you to make one that will pass as the weapon that killed him.”
Jerry seemed confused by the request, but he nodded. “As you wish,MonsieurCold.”
“Officer Carville should be more than willing to get you the specifics you’ll need to make a fitting stand-in.”
“Of course.”
“What do we need a murder weapon for?” Duncan raised his brows.
“For a murder conviction, obviously,” Cold said with a strange smile.
“Mind your business,” Jules grunted at Duncan. “We got this.”
“Hurry along now. I’ll need it fairly soon, if you’d be so kind.” Cold glanced back to Pym. “Take a break. And stay away from the bar.”
“One beer!” Pym fussed.
“It was six beers,” Alistair corrected, “and you got sick.”
“I made it to the bathroom!” Pym grumbled sullenly.
“But you missed,” Cold pointed out. “Try again in a few years. In the meantime, go. Get something to eat.”
Pym scowled, but he obediently got up from the computer. “Yes, Boss.”
“Good luck, Gentlemen.” Jerry gave them a little salute, moving to the door and holding it open for Pym and Jules to leave first. He said something in French and winked at Cold.
Cold smirked, replying a few words back.
“You speak French now?” Alistair sounded surprised.
“I’m learning.”
“It needs some serious work.”
Cold rolled his eyes. He waited for the door to shut before beginning again, “The weapons are coming in tonight at the Strassen Springs Pork Plant. They will be arriving in a refrigerated truck disguised as a shipment of meat at precisely nine o’clock. According to the ledger, they are to be unloaded at dock number three.”
“Don’t suppose it happened to say how many men we should be expecting?” Mickey asked hopefully.
“In fact, it does. Mr. Ricci did not care for electronic communication and instead kept records of everything on paper. There should be four men with two vans waiting to accept the delivery. The plant workers and the truck driver are meant to take an extended break while the Luchesi men unload the guns.”
“Damn, that’s some really good ledger,” Roger remarked. “So, that’s it? Us against four Luchesi punks who don’t even know we’re gonna be comin’?”
“That’s right,” Cold replied, “but that’s no reason to be careless or arrogant. Matteo could have easily increased the number of men, and we would have no way of knowing.”
“So, we’re packing heavy then?” Mickey leaned forward.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Mickey was eager to get back to work. The pain in his arm disagreed, but he ignored it.
“Alistair has the map of the plant and the parking lot layout for everyone to review,” Cold went on. “I want everyone to memorize at least two different escape routes in case anything goes wrong.”
