The Continuing Adventures of Mason Bang

Mason Bang rapped twice on the heavy coffin lid and waited for a response, which came moments later.

Tap.

'Sorry I wasn't there,' Mason said. 'Business, you know. Deals in Hong Kong.'

Tap.

'Of course we got the money. The money was never the problem. They'd never have spent the marked bills; they probably figured escape was worth the thousand serials.'

Tap, tap.

'I've heard it's cold this time of year.'

TAP.

'Well, if you insist. Also. The boy's beginning to ask questions.'

Tap.

'No, no. He got that sorted out. You remember Trixy?'

Tap.

'I don't think I could go through all that again. Let's work with what we've got. He handles himself well; better than I did at his age. It's a damn mystery how I'm able to stand here and talk to you now.'

Tap.

'Well, no, I actually didn't mean it that way. Huh. That's kind of funny.'

TAP.

'Right, right! I'll get the next flight out.'

Mason turned and climbed the staircase out of the crypt, wary at each moment for the loose bricks and thin wires that seemed popular aesthetic in these hours immediately preceding a further adventure. Once safely out, he turned the key in the gate behind him and walked over to meet Bruno, leaning idly by the side of their off-white rent-a-car.

'Come on,' Mason said. 'We're going to the airport. Ring ahead; get two tickets to Venice. Business class. A window seat.'

'Was Quintin there?' Bruno asked.

'Of course he was there,' Mason said. 'Where the hell else would he be?'