The rented truck was now a gold mine on wheels. Ethan wasn't going to risk anything, so he drove the entire time under the speed limit. He didn't want a simple routine stop to turn into an interstate incident. After three hours without trouble, they returned to Chicago. When the silver skyline came back into view, everyone in the car finally relaxed.
In the middle of the night, Ethan's neighborhood had already quieted down.
Many houses still had a few lights on, but most people were already resting.
The Subaru merged onto the road and slowly stopped in front of a house.
—You live in this place?
Job looked around. Seeing the houses packed closely together, he frowned with obvious displeasure.
—Aren't you being a little cheap? You have millions, and you live in the suburbs?
He was one of the few people who knew Ethan's approximate income.
He had imagined a private, beautiful, secluded yard, but instead it turned out to be a middle-class neighborhood. The distance between the houses was barely two or three meters, which made privacy practically nonexistent.
—I just arrived in Chicago. I had to keep a low profile —Ethan replied as he pulled the car keys out. He raised his eyebrows and added— I guess now I can rent a better place, right? What do you think?
—Go to hell! Bastard, you're way richer than I am.
Job raised his middle finger at him.
—I like it. It feels very homey.
Looking at the small single-family house, Nola shrugged, wondering what was wrong with the place.
After closing the car door, the three of them carried the heavy bags inside.
It took two or three trips to move everything into the living room. Job's words had served as a wake-up call for Ethan.
He wasn't short on money, and this time he had made a fortune. He really should start thinking about moving to a more suitable place.
Ethan closed the door and turned on the heater.
The living room quickly became warm and cozy.
He took off his coat, pulled a bottle of Macallan from the bar cabinet, and placed three glasses on the table.
—To survive once again!
He sat down on two stacked bags of money and poured the drinks.
The three clinked their glasses together, and Ethan murmured:
—Cheers!
The dry sound of glass accompanied the drink.
—Alright, let's get to work and take stock of the loot.
Next to the living room table, besides the pistol holster, there were eight neatly arranged duffel bags.
It was an enormous task. His money-counting machine wouldn't be enough for something like this.
The three opened the bags and began pulling out the bills. They were all neatly arranged with bank straps around them—brand new money.
After checking them, Job scratched his bald head.
—Looks like they're all new bills, same denomination.
—So what do we do then?
Ethan grabbed two massive bundles of bills and tossed them onto the table.
When Job noticed the antique decorative scale next to the television, his eyes lit up. He jumped up, grabbed it, and set it on the table.
They began stacking the bills carefully.
Ethan pulled the money out of the bags, Job weighed it, and Nola packed it back in.
The process flowed smoothly, and it didn't take long before all the cash had been weighed.
—In total, 15.2 million dollars in hundred-dollar bills.
Job said it almost out of habit, using the simple equivalence of one gram per bill. But something didn't add up. He frowned.
In Banshee, the Genova Marine Corps training base barely held between ten and fifteen million, and even then, they had to abandon it due to the risk.
Now they had obtained more than fifteen million dollars. Hood would roll in frustration knowing he hadn't been invited for this job. Job reached into his pocket and casually tossed a Swiss bank bearer bond onto the table.
—There's another ten million here.
They had seen plenty of money before, but never a sum like this.
Between the stacked cash in the closet and the Swiss note, the immediate total exceeded twenty-five million.
But that was only the surface.
When Job finished running the full calculations—including fragmented transfers, bridge accounts, and funds still in transit—he slowly lifted his gaze.
—Five… zero… five.
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
—Five hundred and five million dollars —Job repeated, placing the phone on the table as if it weighed more than the money itself.
Much of the capital was still floating in banking limbo: staggered transfers passing through three jurisdictions, shell trusts in the Caribbean, phantom companies in Delaware and Hong Kong. Some would take days. Others, weeks.
—I guess from now on I won't have to worry about rent —Job joked, swirling the whisky in his glass.
Ethan burst out laughing.
—To rent! —he exclaimed, raising his glass—
Nola and Job laughed and lifted their glasses to play along.
The three linked them together.
—Cheers!
The crystal rang in the living room while the fire crackled in the background.
Nola finished her drink in one shot. She gently placed the glass on the table and stood up.
—I'm going to take a shower —she said, stretching her shoulders slightly as if she could finally release the accumulated tension. —Don't take too long.
Ethan looked at her for a moment, still wearing a relaxed smile.
Job shook his head, amused.
—Money definitely hasn't changed you.
She began walking up the stairs, followed by the sound of a door closing.
Only Ethan and Job remained in the living room.
Ethan added a couple of logs to the fireplace. The fire crackled with a dry, warm sound. Outside, the snow kept falling silently.
They poured another drink.
The whisky slid down slowly, burning pleasantly in the throat.
—So… —Ethan said, settling into the sofa. How are things in New York? How's the cupcake business going?
Job smiled sideways.
—Better than expected. It's an excellent front for laundering cash. Nobody suspects a bakery with pink frosting and the smell of vanilla.
He took a sip before continuing.
—And the girls are nice. They work hard, smile a lot… and the business has become pretty popular. We have customers lining up on weekends.
—That's good —Ethan nodded—. The more visible it is, the less suspicious it looks.
The fire crackled.
—And Max? —he asked after a pause.
Job raised an eyebrow.
—Ah… you mean whether she's dating someone?
Ethan looked at him in silence.
—No —Job replied with an amused smile. She's still like a schoolgirl with a crush on a certain Chicago detective. But they're handling it well.
Ethan lowered his gaze to his glass, thoughtful.
—That's good.
Then he added, almost casually:
—By the way, you can take her a gift from me.
Job chuckled softly.
—Sure. We've become good friends. We go shopping sometimes… and guess what.
—What?
—You always pay.
Ethan burst out laughing.
—That's fine. As long as they're happy, it doesn't matter. Money is something we have plenty of now.
Job spun the glass between his fingers, watching the amber whisky reflect the firelight.
—Speaking of that… —he said in a more serious tone—. What are you planning to do with all this money? Even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined having this much. Compared to this, what we stole with Hood looks like candy money.
Ethan stayed silent for a few seconds.
—I don't know. Money is just a means. A tool to live… not the purpose.
Job watched him closely.
—Are you going to retire?
Ethan shook his head with a calm smile.
—No. Of course not. I like being a detective. At least for now. I like traveling, seeing new places… catching bad guys. And if I'm honest, I'm having fun along the way.
Job let out an incredulous laugh.
—You're crazy, you know that? No one with this amount of money would think like that.
—I know —Ethan replied calmly. But if money is no longer a problem… why not do what I enjoy?
Job looked at him for a long moment, evaluating him.
—I guess that's the difference between you and the rest of the world.
Then he looked around the rented house, frowning.
—At least buy a decent house. The decoration here is terrible. It looks like a cheap nineties catalog.
Ethan laughed again.
—I'll do it in the next few days. I'll look for a real estate advisor.
He took another drink.
—I'm putting you in charge of security.
Job nodded naturally.
—I'll take care of that. Just find something worth protecting.
He stretched out on the sofa.
—After that, I'm going on vacation to the Caribbean. I need sun, sand, and zero bullets for a couple of weeks.
Ethan looked at him with interest.
—That's not a bad idea. We could all go.
—All of us?
—Hood. Sugar.
Job smiled slowly.
—For their retirement… yeah, that would be good for them.
Ethan raised his glass.
—Find a villa. Something private. By the sea.
—Of course —Job replied, clinking his glass against his—. But this time I chose the place. Every time you pick a location, it ends with a rain of bullets and a pile of dead assassins.
—Your call.
Job took the last sip from his glass and set it on the table. The fire reflected irregular flashes in the glass.
There was a brief silence.
—Ah… by the way —he added, as if talking about the weather—. I think it's time to liquidate the bitcoins.
—Are you serious? —Job asked, turning toward him. The price has gone up quite a bit lately. We could wait a little longer.
Ethan slowly shook his head.
—No.
His tone was firm but calm.
—I heard from someone reliable that the market is going to crash. Before Christmas.
Job studied him for a few seconds.
—We're talking about a good portion of capital.
—I'd rather step out one move before everyone else.
Job finally nodded.
—If you say so.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and began running mental calculations.
After talking a while longer, they agreed on how to divide the loot. Ethan and Job split it 70/30. Since Ethan had taken almost all the risk and the amount of money was significant, there was no discussion. Besides, Nola said she didn't need her share—what was hers was Ethan's. She would only charge the normal fees for helping them launder the money through the Kinaho Casino, which would take some time. After all, the house never lost.
As always, Job would manage Ethan's funds. They both already had plans for how to use it, and according to Job, those included buying a private jet and retiring to the Bahamas for a long vacation with his boyfriend.
To make things easier, Ethan kept all the cash, and Job would take his portion from his personal funds, along with the promissory note, which he would personally redeem after his vacation.
After dividing the loot and having a couple more drinks, Job helped Ethan carry the travel bags up to the master bedroom on the second floor. One after another, the bags were tossed into the walk-in closet with dull thuds.
They occupied almost half the closet.
Ethan nodded with satisfaction and closed the door. He would need a new house now. This place wasn't safe to keep his things, especially now that he had accessible cash and Nola could secure the legitimacy of the funds, allowing him to buy a house with better security and privacy.
After a full day of running and fighting, everyone was exhausted. Ethan settled Job into a room at the end of the hallway and returned to the master bedroom.
As soon as he closed the door, a pair of slender hands wrapped around him from behind.
Fingers slowly traced his body, descending without hurry.
Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the contact, then turned around.
—Are you planning to stay here, or are you going to be a gentleman and come shower with me?
—No matter what happens, I will always be a gentleman —Ethan laughed, quickly taking off his clothes.
He lifted her in his arms and slammed the bathroom door shut.