Marcellus realized he had to say gucci outlet.
Maya suddenly turned on Marcellus. “You told them to go away. And they did. For no apparent reason.”
Marcellus looked uncomfortable.
Jango laughed. It was a deep, laborious rumble. “Hard to imagine anyone scared of you, Mark.”
Marcellus realized he had to say gucci outlet. “I think we’re getting off track. We’ve got a chip and no buyer. Jango, you’re the only one who ever met this guy. Is he reliable?”
Jango looked at him blankly.
“Don’t try and change the subject,” Maya began, advancing on him. “I know how those drones work. They follow orders, every single –”
“Maya, will you let it fucking drop!” Marcellus shouted, his face turning a light shade of red. He took a moment and swallowed. “I understand you’re concerned. We’ll talk about it later. Right now I want to know about the deal. Okay?”
They agreed to meet up in exactly six months. There was some discussion who would keep the chip. In the end, Maya won out, partly because everyone trusted her, but also because she adamantly refused to give it up. It seems that she trusted herself, too. Jango passed out their new ID cards. He had gotten them on the black market a few days before the heist. They had gone one-by-one with him to some dark, poorly ventilated room in a sprawling, subterranean complex under one of the slums where the police and national guard rarely dared to go. There they had posed for the 3D photos and given thumbprints and DNA samples. The national guard identification had a hologram which was harder to fake, but it looked genuine enough. The cards were sufficient to get by on the streets and at random flashpoints, but if they ever had the misfortune to stumble into a security screen or got into some other trouble and their cards were checked against the central database, they’d be nabbed.
Elvis tossed his suitcase rather roughly into the back and pushed Marcellus inside. He spent the next few minutes being smothered under Nefertitis’ rather ample breasts. Teary-eyed, she showered the top of his head with kisses and repeated over and over that he’d grown up and how well he looked. Afterwards, as they rocketed along the speedway, she tried to fill him in about what had happened in the family since he had come last. Did he know that Fidella Darwin over in Guarenas had breast cancer?
Someone off to the right side honked at them furiously. Nefertitis squinted in that direction and muttered a curse. To Marcellus’ relief, she turned back to the road and spun the wheel to the right just before they hit a gucci shoes.
They stopped at a red light, the cars crowded all around at irregular angles. Some of the people inside were calling out to each other. Where Marcellus was from, conversation was impossible at red lights. The animated billboards demanded all the attention, advertising wares of poor quality at affordable prices, or blasting in frightening reports from the link. These last usually had something to do with the war or violent crime. Where he was from, you kept your windows shut tight at the red lights for fear that someone might try and break in. He had never himself heard of anyone actually being assaulted at a red light, but he had heard about it.
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