Kearns stepped out of the elevator, jaw clenched, against the ringing in his ears. He faced the other man.
“You part of that?” he asked. “Or did he get that idea all on his own?”
“He almost shot me. You think I planned that?”
They stood in silence.
“Thanks,” he continued.
The third man pulled the car up beside them and waited.
“Get in. I’ll send word once I sell the stones. I see either of you before then, I start shooting.”
Kearns started walking out of the garage, carrying the small duffel, and waiting for the shot to come.