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Quinn was a little surprised by Albert’s matter-of-fact tone. He’d half expected a Gollum-like “My precioussss,” or something.
“Yeah. Gold,” Quinn agreed.
“It didn’t melt,” Albert said. “Heat rises and all that. Like they taught us in school.”
“Let’s start loading, huh? This place gives me the creeps,” Quinn said. “Bad memories.”
Albert reached down and lifted out a brick. He set it down with a thud. “Heavy, huh?”
“Yeah,” Quinn said. “What are you going to do with it all?”
“Well,” Albert said. “I’m going to see if I can melt it down and make coins or something out of it. Except I don’t have any kind of coin mold. I had thought about using muffin tins. I have a cast-iron muffin tin that makes the small-sized muffins.”
Quinn grinned and then laughed. “We’re going to use gold muffins for money?”
“Maybe. But, actually, I found something better. One of the kids searching houses found where the guy had made his own am
munition. He found some bullet molds.”
They kept busy lifting the gold out and onto the ground. They stacked it crisscross, like kids playing with blocks.
“Gold bullets?” Quinn stopped laughing. “We’re going to make gold bullets?”
“It doesn’t matter what shape they are, so long as they’re consistent. All the same, you know?”
“Dude. Bullets? You don’t think that’s maybe, you know…weird?”
Albert sighed, exasperated. “Gold slugs, not the gunpowder part, just the slug part.”
“Jeez, man, I don’t know.” Quinn shook his head.
“Thirty-two caliber,” Albert said. “That was the smallest size the guy had.”
“Why isn’t Cookie helping us?” Quinn wondered.
In answer, Lana, from somewhere outside, said, “Guys, I’m going to look around for food. Cookie will help me.”
“Cool,” Quinn said.
In a few minutes they had all the gold up out of the hole.
They began walking the gold to the truck, a few bars at a time. The gold bars were not big, but they were heavy. By the time Albert and Quinn had finished hauling the gold they were sweating despite the chill of the night.
Albert climbed in and pulled a canvas tarp over the gold.
“Listen, man,” Albert said as he worked to tie down the corners, “this isn’t something we want anyone talking about. Right? This is just between the four of us here tonight.”
“Hold up, dude. You’re not telling Sam?”
Albert climbed down to stand face-to-face with Quinn. “Look, I’m not trying to get over on Sam. I have the most total respect for Sam. But this plan works better if it all comes out at once.”
“Albert, I’m not going to lie to Sam,” Quinn said flatly.
“I’m not asking you to lie to Sam. If he asks you, tell him. If he doesn’t ask…”
When Quinn still hesitated, Albert said, “Look, man, Sam is a great leader. Maybe he’s our George Washington. But even Washington was wrong about some things. And Sam doesn’t get what I’m talking about. How people all have to work.”
“He knows people have to work,” Quinn argued. “He just doesn’t want you getting over on everyone, making yourself the rich guy.”
