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“What’s in it?”

“Random financial records,” says Sinclair. “Nothing the faction can use against us.”

I look at them both.

“You better not have fucked this up because my only other alternative is to start killing your staff and hope someone squeals.”

“Why don’t you just do that now?” says Sandoval. “That sounds more efficient than this courier scenario.”

“Sure. I could start with you and Barron. How do I know that this whole thing isn’t a setup? Maybe you two are the rats and you just want to see if anyone can get through to your faction pals.”

“Don’t be absurd. We’re the injured party.”

“Then don’t tell me who to kill and when. It unsettles my tranquil disposition.”

“We’ve done our part. Now you do yours,” says Sinclair.

Sandoval glances at her watch.

“The car will be here soon.”

I pick up the briefcase.

“Nice. What is this? Rattlesnake?”

“Alligator,” Sinclair.

“I knew it was something cold-blooded.”

Sandoval’s cell phone rings. She exchanges a few words and hangs up.

“The car is here. The driver knows where to take you. It’s one of our law offices in Westwood.”

“Do you know the driver?”

Sandoval gives me a look.

“Philip? He’s worked for me for years. I trust him.”

“I mean, if I get snatched, he might not be in shape to be your driver anymore.”

She looks at Sinclair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

She looks back at me.

“That’s why we wanted you. Your sick little mind.”

“You have any spare drivers lying around? Ones you don’t like as much?”

“No. Do you, Barron?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve known my driver for years.”

“Just one big happy family,” I say.

I weigh the briefcase in my hand. It’s very light. That means there aren’t any bombs in case they change their minds about me.

“I’ll do my best to keep him alive. But if it comes down to him or me, well, you know.”