Free Side by Side by John Ramsey Miller Page A

exponentially with the passing time.”
    “The type of business we do is filled with maybes,” Peanut said. “Bigger profits always come with bigger risks.”
    Sarnov continued, “My employers have decided that some changes in the terms are necessary.”
    Mr. Laughlin crossed his legs. “Alterations at this point on an agreement that is in place? Your employers and I have a mutually profitable history.”
    “The cigarettes my people get hold of we sell to you people at less than we get from a lot of others,” Peanut added.
    Mr. Laughlin sat back and placed the tips of his fingers together.
    The Russians bought hundreds upon hundreds of cases of hijacked cigarettes and, after affixing forged state tax stamps to the packs, sold them to store owners all over the world.
    Sarnov said, “But for the other business that we do, you and your helper here would be dead already. Keeping an advance without delivering on an agreed-upon schedule isn’t something we would normally allow.”
    “What?” Peanut said, bristling at the man’s threat. He wished he could whip out his stainless .44 special and blast the Russian’s heart out.
    “What sort of alteration do you have in mind?” Laughlin asked.
    “The up-front payment will become a rebate against the total we owe,” Serge said.
    “Bull dooky,” Peanut scoffed.
    “I could do this,” Mr. Laughlin said, cool as a cucumber. “I repay the three mil out of my own pocket and you walk away from this deal. It’s the long-term association that matters. I am quite certain I can line up new buyers for the Bryce merchandise.”
    Sarnov smiled. “In order to salvage our reputation with our buyers, we will expect to take delivery of that shipment and pass it along as planned. Naturally we will have to give the buyers a considerable discount for the inconvenience factor.”
    “You mean you’d like a thirty-three percent discount on the deal?” Mr. Laughlin asked, raising a brow.
    “Yes. It’s fair for the year you’ve had our money,” the Russian said.
    “You must be on dope!” Peanut blurted out. “Of all the screwball crap I ever heard, that takes the cake!”
    Mr. Laughlin held up his hand to silence Peanut.
    Peanut was running figures in his head. He was getting a twenty percent cut of Mr. Laughlin’s ten points on Colonel Bryce’s deals. He was getting one hundred grand for the Dockery kidnapping and disposal of the bodies. Four of his kids would get five thousand each. If Sarnov got his asked-for cuts, Peanut would lose a lot of money.
    Sarnov lit a cigarette without asking permission, which bothered Peanut, but nobody else seemed to care. “We don’t have any business history with Colonel Bryce.”
    Laughlin said, “After this is over, your people can do deals with him for years to come.”
    Max nodded his agreement.
    Sarnov shrugged. He looked down at the ash on his cigarette, down the coffee table, and, seeing no ashtray, casually tapped ash into a cut-glass dish with peppermint candy in it.
    “If we don’t get the shipment, we expect you to pay us the profits we would have made if we had completed our end. A moment ago, Mr. Peanut set that figure at three hundred percent, which if my math is correct is twenty-seven million we would expect to receive.”
    “What?!” Laughlin said in disbelief.
    Peanut was sure he was hallucinating. Twenty-seven million dollars for something that never happened was insanity.
    Sarnov took a long pull from the cigarette and exhaled the smoke across the table. “In the interest of friendship and a valued business relationship, I’ll get my employers to take nine million if the deal doesn’t go through. If it works out, we pay a total of six for the shipment. After that, we do the deals like we initially agreed. A third down, two thirds upon delivery.”
    Peanut had watched the color drain from Mr. Laughlin’s face by degrees—his lips tightening. He had never seen Mr. Laughlin physically affected by anything.
    Peanut