news that her mission is accomplished. She has retrieved the bullion hidden in her apartment, emptied the three lockboxes in the Richmond banks, and is already headed for D.C. with a trunkful of gold.
I get stalled in construction traffic around Palm Beach, and this ruins my plans for the afternoon. The banks will be closed when I arrive at the Jacksonville beaches. I have no choice but to slow down and go with the flow. It's after six when I get to Neptune Beach, and for old time's sake I check into a motel I've used before. It accepts cash and I park near my room on the ground level. I roll the carry-on inside and fall asleep with it on the bed with me. Vanessa wakes me at ten. She is safely tucked away in Dee Ray's condo near Union Station. Quinn is there and they are having a delightful reunion. For this phase of the operation, Dee Ray has broken up with his live-in girlfriend and moved her out. In his opinion, she cannot be trusted. She is not family, and she's certainly not the first girl he has cast aside. I pass along my request to hold the champagne for twenty-four hours.
We - Vanessa, Dee Ray, and I - expressed strong misgivings about Quinn including his estranged wife in our plot. A divorce looks likely, and it's best if she knows nothing at this point.
Once again, I find myself killing a few minutes in the parking lot of a bank, First Coast Trust. When the doors open at 9:00 a.m., I wander in, as nonchalantly as possible, pulling an empty carry-on and flirting with the clerks. Just another sunny day in Florida. Alone in the vault, in a private stall, I remove two Lavos cigar boxes and place them gently into the carry-on. Minutes later, I'm driving a few blocks to a branch of Jacksonville Savings. When that lockbox is empty, I make my final stop at a Wells Fargo branch in Atlantic Beach. By ten I'm back on Interstate 95, headed to D.C. with 261 golden bricks in the trunk. Only the five I sold to Hassan for cash have disappeared.
It's almost midnight when I enter central D.C. I take a brief detour and drive along First Street, passing in front of the Supreme Court Building and wondering what will be the final outcome of the momentous case of Armanna Mines v. the Commonwealth of Virginia. One of the lawyers, or perhaps two or three of those involved in the case, once defiled the chambers of a federal judge with their filthy bribes. Said bribes are now in the trunk of my car. What a journey. I'm almost tempted to park at the curb, take out a mini-bar, and toss it through one of the massive windows.
However, better judgment prevails. I circle Union Station, follow the GPS to I Street, then to the corner of Fifth. By the time I park in front of the building, Mr. Quinn Rucker is bounding down the steps with the biggest smile I've ever seen. Our embrace is long and emotional. "What took so long?" he asks.
"Got here as fast as I could," I reply.
"I knew you would come, bro. I never doubted you."
"There were doubts, lots of them."
We're both stunned at the fact that we've pulled it off, and at that moment our success is overwhelming. We embrace again, and each of us admires how thin the other looks. I comment that I'm looking forward to eating again. Quinn says he's tired of playing the lunatic. "I'm sure it comes natural," I say. He grabs my shoulders, stares at my new face, and says, "You're almost cute now."
"I'll give you the doctor's name. You could use some work."
I've never had a closer friend than Quinn Rucker, and the hours we spent at Frostburg hatching our scheme now seem like an ancient dream. Back then, we believed in it because there was nothing else to hope for, but deep down we never seriously thought it would work. Arm in arm, we climb the steps and enter the condo. I hug and kiss Vanessa, then reintroduce myself to Dee Ray. I met him briefly years ago in the visitors' room at Frostburg when he came to see his brother, but I'm not sure I would recognize him walking down a street. It doesn't matter; we are now blood kin, our bonds solidified by trust and gold.
The first bottle of champagne is