“Then”—he shrugs—“we play it by ear, I guess.”

“Do you have the file or what?” Sasha barks from a safe distance.

“What file?” I ask, looking at her, then back to Merc. They stare each other down. “What. Fucking. File?”

Merc points his cigarette at Sasha. “I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut about that file.”

“I have,” she sneers back. “But I’m with him now,” she says, pointing to me. “And I want him to know about it. So my silence is over.” She pauses for a beat. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Damn. Assassin Smurf is back. I love Assassin Smurf. “What fucking file?” I ask again while Merc decides if he has a problem with that. Because of course, even if he did, it’s too late now. Sasha has let me in.

Finally. After carting her midget ass all over the Wild West, I’m in.

Merc lets out a long breath and then does the little this-is-only-between-you-and-me gesture with his pointer finger. “We got the fucking file.”

“Have had it the whole time, actually.”

I look over at Sasha. “You had the file?”

She smiles. “No. I gave it to Ford and he gave it to Merc.”

I look at Merc. “You had the fucking file? And you let me chase after Harper trying to get it? Does Nick know this shit?”

“Is he here?” Sasha asks.

I look over at Sasha again. I’m getting a bad feeling now.

“This is not the file you’re looking for,” Merc says, waving his hand like he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. But then his laugh stops and his smile fades. “This is something else. Something…” He looks over at Sasha. “Bigger. It’s much bigger. There’s two files, James. Ford and I got it open after Sasha gave it to him last year. And it’s all money, brother. Accounts, man. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of secret money accounts.”

“Company money?”

Merc takes a long drag on his smoke and then blows out rings. “Yeah. Your precious Company has holdings everywhere, man.”

“Where the hell did it come from?”

He looks at Sasha and I turn my head as well. She’s got a grin on her face. But it’s not one of satisfaction or amusement. It’s nerves. “Spill, Smurf.”

“My dad was drunk the night before that Christmas Eve job. I knew he had something important. He said he was going to California for a day the week before. He left me at home. Alone. He never does that. He takes me to my grandparents when he has out-of-town business. So I knew something was wrong that day. And when he came back, he had a flash drive.”

“He didn’t go to California,” Merc says, interrupting the story. “Ford and I tracked him. He went to the Caymans and visited every bank in Georgetown.”

“He was late,” Sasha says sadly. “He didn’t get back until the next day. I stayed home and worried the whole time.”

“He set it up to steal all their money.”

I laugh. “Define all.”

“All. Except private funds, which I’m sure, from the lifestyle Nick describes, are still considerable.”

“Fucking Nick. I’ll kill that asshole for sending Harper away with the wrong file.”

“I’m not sure Nick knows, James.”

“So what’s on that file? The file he gave Harper. I assumed it was just names and shit.”

“Maybe it is,” Merc says. “Or maybe it’s not. But whatever it is, it’s important to these people.”

“None of this makes sense. Why the hell did the Admiral send me to the beach? Who the fuck is in charge of this operation?”

“I don’t think it’s one operation, James.” Merc and I both look to Sasha. “I only hear and see snippets, so you have to understand that when I tell you this stuff. But I’ve seen and heard a lot. My dad used to be someone important. He was kicked out of that position and that’s how we ended up on the road living out of an RV. But he still knew a lot of stuff. And right before he died, he was stealing their money and he was in contact with Nick. Nick had been around for months before the Christmas job. Nick is the one he was working with.”

I just stare at her.

“Nick asked him for help in stealing all that money. My father did it, not Nick. But it was Nick’s idea.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you two tell me this shit up front?”

Sasha steps back at my tone, but Merc has a hand on my shoulder before I can move.

“Look, dude, you were fucking insane, OK? We couldn’t bring you in until we knew you’d snap out of it. And you did. So she brought you here.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I brought her here.”

Merc smiles. “She’s damn good, isn’t she?”

“You set me up, Smurf?”

“Sorry,” she says. But she’s pretty proud of herself from the look on her face. “I was supposed to figure out if you were insane or not. Merc did send you to get me. But so did the Admiral. And Merc did send me out to the prairie to wait you out. But so did the Admiral. He’s playing you, James. He told me to kill you and that’s why he told you to kill me. And I’m pretty sure dropping Harper off was a bad idea, but we really did need to get rid of her.”

I scrub my hand down my face as I process all this. “And you let me put Harper in danger… why?” I look up again and they both stop smiling. I know that look. I don’t feel the change in me—I never feel the change in me. But I see the change in them.

“Now look, Tet,” Merc says as he squeezes my shoulder tighter. “You were not supposed to see her.”

“That’s bullshit. The fucking Admiral sent me to the beach to watch her.”

“He sent you to the beach so you’d bump into your assassin. But I paid that guy a visit before you arrived.”

“More bullshit! I told you on the phone before I ever went to the beach that I failed my psych exam and you practically hung up on me.”

“No, I said I didn’t have time for your whining. And I didn’t. I’ve got my own side jobs going, you know that. But the next day I took a trip down to SoCal and took care of your business.”

“Was it One?” I ask

“Is One dead?” Merc quips back. I just give him a snide look. “Obviously it was not One.” He waits to see if I’ll take another guess but I don’t. “It was Eight.”