Chapter Text
The rotor blades are turning at full speed, the sound they make forcing the man on the tarmac to yell as they carry bags filled to the brim with the money they stole. The air it creates barely helps to cool off the heat. The jungle is unforgiving, even in the late afternoon, and between the tack vest he is wearing and exertion from the whole afternoon, Frankie is sweating heavily. He's surveilling the loading, and something is nagging him, something he has to say, and he knows it isn't going to go well.
"It won't all fit in the net; we got to get the rest inside." He yells as Will passes by, arms carrying 2 heavy bags. Benny sweeps by them, his loud voice carrying over the noise. "I don't know if that scale is fucked up, but it's telling me we got 6000 pounds here."
Shit, Frankie thinks, he needs to say it. "That's 250 million dollars." But he barely utters the words that Benny's cheerful shout interrupts him, "We stole 250 million? I'm definitely getting that Ferrari!"
Santi looks baffled. "Are you sure?" He looks at Frankie, and he can sense the concern there. Santi knows him the best, and he must see something in Frankie's face that prevents him from letting joy overtake him.
Will passes them again, hurrying them up. "Let's go!" He is right, they have to leave soon. Lorea's men can still trace them.
But Frankie can't stand there and be quiet, he looks at Tom and speaks up, "If that scale is even close to being right, we are going to have a weight issue."
"What's the issue? That thing can carry 9000 pounds." Tom looks at him, confused.
"That's 9000 at 2000 feet. If we want to get to the ocean, we gotta fly over the fucking Andes, man!" Frankie is frustrated, he needs Tom to understand the risk.
"Are we really leaving 200 million to the fucking runway?" Tom yells over the noise of the rotors.
Frankie stops to think, he's got a decision to make, one that can change the course of this mission. He knows they all want to bring back as much money as they can. Hell, he wants that too! Once it's there, it's hard to leave it behind. But his thoughts are turned back home, to what awaits him there.
"It's either that or we risk crashing on a fucking mountain!"
"I'm not leaving all that money to rot in the jungle." He sees the impatience in Tom's eyes; he's not used to Frankie contradicting him, and he knows he's going to have to stand his ground.
"And I'm not flying it. It's not worth risking our lives over money, Tom! Even that much! What the hell is wrong with you?" He gets closer as he looks up to Tom's face, trying to make him understand he won't back away.
"What do you mean, what's wrong with me? We are not leaving all this money! This is an order!" Tom's neck is red, and he is filled with anger and won't let go.
"I don't take orders from you anymore, Tom." Frankie tries to lower his voice and take down the tension a notch, but he knows what he just said is a mistake.
"The hell you don't, I'm the lead on this mission!" Tom takes a step forward, he's looking down at Frankie, trying to make him back off, not used to him disagreeing with a command. Benny might, Will could voice a warning softly, even Santi has been known to disagree. But Frankie is usually the quiet one; he observes and waits. He doesn't argue and directly contradict an order, army or not.
"This isn't the army, Redfly! This is an illegal mission where no one will come to save us if we crash." Frankie can't help the way he spits out Tom's call sign. They stare at each other, faces so close they can feel each other's breath. Santi looks at them worriedly. Any moment, this can escalate to violence, and for a second, he seems stunned into inaction.
"What's the matter? We gotta move now!" Will is back, he looks at them, and his interruption prompts Santi to finally move. He puts his hands on each man's chest, pushing them back, and looks at each of them.
"Hey! Hey! Let's all calm down, OK? Tom, Fish's the expert here. You gotta listen to him." He tries to catch Tom's eyes, but he barely can, so he turns to Frankie. "Francisco, llave [friend]." The use of his full name finally makes Frankie tear his eyes from Tom and look at his friends, "Do we have to leave all of this here? How much more can we take?"
The tension starts leaving Frankie; he trusts Santi to understand him and maybe help Tom see what they need to do. "We gotta fly over 15,000 feet! And we gotta take into account the temperature, air pressure, the fucking turbulence up there. We can bring in a few more bags, but we are not going to be able to carry most of it."
"How much do you think we can carry?" Santi asks.
Frankie sighs. This isn't going to go well. "No more than 1800 pounds."
Tom shakes his head, his anger is clouding his judgment. "Fuck this! This is bullshit!"
Will intervenes, to Frankie's relief. "Tom, come on! That's still over, what? 75 million? We didn't expect to get that much money, remember? We were fine with 35, hell, even 17,000 to start with! Divided by the 5 of us, it's still plenty!"
"I want to get home to my lady and kid. Don't you want to go back to Tess? Molly?" Frankie pleads with Tom, this is his last card.
Finally, Tom relents. "OK, OK, but we are not leaving this here, let's bring all inside. Santi, are there any places we can hide this when we leave your girl in Peru?"
Santi looks confused by this. "There are caves right by there. But why would we put it there?"
"We are coming back for it." Tom's tone is resolute. He hauls a bag on his shoulder and walks to the helicopter.
"Tom, this is dangerous. We shouldn't come back to this part of the world. Ever." Santi calls back to him.
"We'll see." Tom enters the chopper and doesn't come out. Frankie looks at Will, and he knows Will thinks the same thing: this isn't over. What happened today, in this jungle, on this tarmac, will follow them back home. Something has changed.
—
In the end, they bring back 76,197,567 million. Once they get to Saint John's and to Santi's lawyer a few days later, the rest of the trip blissfully uneventful, they each get, minus expenses and the administrative fees, a little less than 15 million dollars.
More than any of them would expect to earn in their lifetimes. And with the clever offshore shell company, and good money placement, they know they can expect up to 600 thousand a year. Without counting bonuses. They are rich. In a good spot, each of them is able to pursue whatever they want to with their lives. But for Tom, it's not enough.