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“I’ve been to Foley’s a lot lately. Don’t want to get sloppy.” Nolan pushed a bottle of Bucanero toward Christophe. “Ordered you a beer. Sorry — no bourbon.”
Christophe picked it up and looked at the label, then took a drink. His expression was noncommittal as he set the bottle back on the table.
“We got everything we needed from the laptop and more,” Christophe said.
“More?” It had only been a week since Nolan handed over the flash drive to Christophe. He’d expected it to take longer.
Christophe nodded.
“Is it enough to shut Seamus down?” Nolan asked.
“Eventually,” Christophe said.
“What do you mean eventually?”
“There’s quite a lot of financial information to review and trace, money funneled through organizations in this country and in Ireland, among others. The FBI has procedures that have to be followed if we want a case against O’Brien to stick,” Christophe said.
Nolan thought about Bridget, about Will, both in more danger with every passing day.
“Were we right about the dirty cops?” Nolan asked.
“We were right,” Christophe said. “There are sixteen named in the files on O’Brien’s computer, all of them spread out across the city and its surrounding areas.”
“Good,” Nolan said, “because we have a date for the bank job at Harbor Trust.”
A flicker of interest passed over Marchand’s eyes. “Which is?”
“Friday.”
“That would be this Friday?” Marchand asked.
“That’s right.”
“How certain are you?”
“Will’s been assigned to the crew,” Nolan said.
His gut clenched just thinking about it, but he’d already had it out with Will, had already offered to wire him enough money to buy him a plane ticket out of Boston and set him up in the Caribbean for a long time. He’d been as pissed by Nolan’s offer as Nolan expected him to be.
“That’s both fortuitous and worrying,” Marchand said.
Nolan studied him. “I’m surprised you feel that way.”
“Why would that surprise you?”
Nolan took a drink of his beer. “I assumed your primary concern would be the mission to remove O’Brien.”
“Our men are our brothers,” Marchand said. “There’s no organization without them.”
“Will isn’t your man,” Nolan pointed out.
“No, but he’s yours. Your best friend. Yes?”
Nolan nodded. “Yes.”
“Then his safety is of concern to us as well.” Marchand hesitated. “I assume you’ve offered to help him disappear until this blows over?”
“Yeah, and it was pointless,” Nolan said.
