Believe me, there's a whole lot of guys walk around packing iron. You tell a whole roomful to reach for theirwallets, some ofthem'll reach for their guns instead. Meanwhile they're in and out in what, five minutes tops? I don't think it was five minutes from the door flying open and the bullets in the ceiling until they're out the door and Tim Pat's standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face."

"That's a point."

"And whatever they'd of got frompeople's wallets, that's small change."

"You figure the box was that heavy? What do you figure it held?"

Skip shrugged."Twenty grand."

"Seriously?"

"Twenty grand, fifty grand, pick a number."

"IRA money, you were saying earlier."

"Well, what else do you figure they spend it on, Bill? I don't know what they take in but they do a nice business seven days a week and where's the overhead? They probably got the building for back taxes, and they live in half of it, so they got no rent to pay and no real payroll to come up with. I'm sure they don't report any income or pay any taxes, unless they pretend that playhouse on the ground floor shows a profit and pay a token tax on that. They have to be dragging ten or twenty grand a week out of that place and what do you think they spend it on?"

"They have to pay off to stay open," I put in.

"Payoffs and political contributions, of course, but not ten or twenty K aweek's worth. And they don't drive big cars, and they never go out and spend a dollar in somebody else's joint. I don't see Tim Pat buying emeralds for some sweet young thing, or his brothers putting grams of coke up their Irish noses."

"Up your Irish nose," Billie Keegan said.

"I liked Tim Pat's little speech, and then buying a round. Far as I know, that's the first time theMorrisseys ever set 'emup for the house."

"Fucking Irish," Billie said.

"Jesus, Keegan, you're drunk again."