He went through into the high-ceilinged living room. Katya came out of an adjoining hallway carrying a fourth suitcase, stopped when she saw him. “Where is he?” he said. She nodded at the stairs. He went up to the second floor, saw the light in Cota’s study at the end of the hall. He stopped in the doorway. Cota had a wall safe open, was taking out bound packs of bills, stacking them on the desktop. The painting that had covered the safe was leaning against the wall. He was panicking, as Hicks had known he would. But it didn’t matter now. “What the fuck, Emile?” Cota turned to look at him, then reached back into the safe. “Where do you think you’re going?” Hicks said. He’d almost been too late. Cota put the last two packs on the desk. He looked pale, old. “I was going to call you, tell you. I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” “You running out on me? I told you there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all been taken care of.” “You did. And I’m sure you’re right.”
