“Oh.” Sean nodded. “I get it.”
The accountant wiggled his fingers behind his back. “Do you mind?”
Sean bent over the accountant’s hands, tearing at the tape, while the accountant shifted from one foot to the other.
“Please hurry, Sean,” said the accountant.
“Tapes all tangled up,” said Sean. “I…I can’t do it.”
“Told you, dumb-ass,” said Briggs. “That’s why I use that kind of tape, ’cause you can’t get it off.”
“Then one of you is going to have to unzip my trousers and hold my penis while I urinate,” said the accountant.
Both Sean and Briggs burst out laughing.
“I’m quite serious, gentlemen,” said the accountant.
“Pal, if you want someone to hold your joint, you’re out of luck,” said Briggs, still laughing. “Now, I had a partner ten years ago…he might have accommodated you.”
“If you force me to wet myself, Mr. Briggs, I can promise you with absolute certainty, that I will not lead you to the ledger, no matter what you do to me,” said the accountant.
Briggs punched the accountant in the side of the head, knocked him onto the ground. “You sure about that?” He kicked the man in the chest, then grabbed the accountant’s bound hands, jerked him to his feet, bones popping. “You sure?”
The accountant didn’t say a word.
Briggs lifted the accountant’s hands higher and higher, the man bent forward, silent, tears rolling from his eyes onto the dirt. Still silent. Briggs finally released him, out of breath.
“Damn, Briggs,” said Sean. “I believe him.”
“Yeah,” panted Briggs. “So do I.” He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “So grab his joint and help him take a piss.”
“Me?” said Sean.
Briggs shrugged. “I cleaned up after the two software geeks. They must have had the combo platter at El Jaliscos but you never heard me complain. While you were ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over their fancy laptops, I was mopping out the car.”
“I’m not doing it,” said Sean.
“You were the one who forgot the handcuffs,” said Briggs. “That’s why I had to use the tape.”
“I don’t care,” said Sean.”
“Gentlemen,” said the accountant. “Decide.”
“Did I share on the last job?” said Briggs. “I didn’t have to, but I did.” He glanced at the accountant. “Last job we found…I found a half-kilo of smack in Mr. Unlucky’s dresser. I didn’t have to share it with you, but I did.”
“The smack was stepped on, and we probably should have turned it over to Junior anyway,” said Sean.
“Gentlemen?”
Sean stared at Briggs.
“You know it’s fair,” said Briggs.
Sean jabbed a finger at the accountant. “I ain’t touching it with my bare hands.” He walked around until he found a tree with wide leaves, tore a couple off and strode back to the accountant. “Don’t say a fucking word.” He unzipped the accountant’s trousers, fumbled out the man’s penis holding the leaf around it, then pointed it into the brush. “Hurry up.”
The accountant closed his eyes.
“Come on,” said Sean, giving the accountant’s penis a slight shake.
“I’m trying,” said the accountant.
“You’re the one who had to go so bad,” said Sean.
“Oh, Sean,” drawled Briggs, “I cain’t quit you.”
“That ain’t funny.” Sean looked at the accountant. “I’m going to be hearing that for the next week.”
The accountant sighed. “I…I can’t do it. It’s just…I can’t.”
“Fine.” Sean stuffed the accountant’s penis back into his trousers, didn’t even bother zipping him up, the leaf sticking out of his fly. “Just take us to the damn ledger so I can blow your brains out and forget this ever happened.”
“I’m sorry,” said the accountant. “It’s not easy, you know.”
Sean wiped his hand on his pants.
“If it helps,” said the accountant, “we’re almost there.”
“About time.” Briggs looked down at the patches of standing water all around them. “Getting really muddy.”
“ Lot of rain lately,” said the accountant, walking ahead, the ground sucking at his shoes. “It’s really beautiful here after a storm, all kinds of flowers popping up.” He walked slightly off the trail, splashed through a puddle. “See that tree up ahead?” He pointed with his chin. “The one with the split trunk? The journal’s in a waterproof container under a large flat rock-”
Briggs pushed him aside, stalked across a mossy clearing toward the tree, right through the water. He was in past his ankles trying to high-step free before he stopped and looked back. By then it was too late. He was up to his knees and sinking fast.
“Don’t move!” said the accountant.
“Get me out of here!” shouted Briggs.
Sean pointed a pistol at the accountant. “You did this.”
“There’s underground springs all over this part of the woods,” the accountant said to Sean, ignoring the pistol. “Nobody knows where they’ll pop up next.”
“Hey!” called Briggs, the muddy slurry almost to his waist now.
“Quit struggling, Briggs, you’ll only sink faster,” said the accountant, stepping slowly into the clearing. “Stay calm.”
“How about we trade places and you stay calm, mother-fucker?” said Briggs, perfectly still now.
“Sean, go find a long tree branch,” the accountant said gently. “Hurry.”
Sean crashed into the underbrush.
“I’m…I’m still sinking,” said Briggs, a cloud of mosquitoes floating around his head.
The accountant watched him stuck there, the late-afternoon light seeping through the trees.
Sean rushed back, dragging a long, dry branch. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect,” said the accountant. “Hold it out in front of you…but be careful where you step.”
“I’m scared,” said Sean.
“Fucking do it, Sean!” cried Briggs.
Sean edged carefully into the clearing, one foot in front of the other, testing the ground under the water to make sure it was solid. He waved the dry branch at Briggs.
“You’ll have to get closer,” said the accountant.
Sean took another few steps, started to sink, the watery muck level with his high-tops. He reached out with the branch.
Briggs lunged for the branch, missed it by at least three feet. His movements drove him deeper into the slurry, chest-high now. “Closer!”
“It’s okay, Sean,” said the accountant. “Just a little farther. Lean forward with the branch.”
Sean hesitated, took another step toward Briggs, bent over, the branch extended as far as he could.
The accountant put his foot against Sean’s ass, and pushed. Sent him sprawling.
Sean screamed, facedown, spitting out muck as he fought to get out, but only got sucked in deeper and deeper. He grasped at the tree branch. It snapped.
The accountant watched them struggle. Sean weeping, frantic, mud in his mouth, sinking fast. Briggs moved slowly, trying to work his way toward the edge of the clearing.
“There really is a natural spring under there,” said the accountant, hands still taped behind his back. “Been that way since I was a boy. Deep, too. No matter what you throw in, it just gets swallowed up. I tossed a neighbor’s new bicycle down there one time. Shiny red Schwinn with streamers on the handlebars and a chrome fenders. Never did like that kid.”
Briggs reached for a tuft of grass, but it came apart in his hands. He tilted back, the slurry past his chest now.
Sean made a final choking sound, and slipped under the surface.
“If you can hold your breath long enough, Briggs, maybe you can find that bike on the bottom,” said the accountant. “See if you can ring the bell.”