While Bang-Bang carefully works on dismantling the new suitcase, Heller goes through the other luggage, more spy equipment that is once again carefully tagged as "Certified CIA Test Lab." There's a balloon, a dissolving poison spoon, poisoned lipstick, and a Suicide Kit: "Take two before retiring. The Surgeon General has determined these to be hazardous to your health..." hur hur hur. When Izzy asks what he's doing (again) Heller describes his looting as "penetrating the most closely held secrets of the CIA," a rather grandiose spin on rifling through some gag gizmos the CIA was dumb enough to label.
Bang-Bang can't get the suitcase open, so Heller just pops the front latches and is immediately shredded by the Claymore mine rigged to... yeah, no, the suitcase is full of money. Excuse me, MONEY! Heller dumps it all out to create a "small mountain of MONEY!", and then Izzy... well, up until now I'd been impressed with how Hubbard handled him. He was Jewish, and made sure to remind us of that with an "oy vey" or two and by calling people goyim, but for the most part it was a surprisingly restrained take on what could have become a caricature, especially given the walking stereotypes of Battlefield Earth. But when he sees that pile of cash...
But Izzy sat down on the floor. His bare feet started scrubbing against each other. His hands, like talons, began to lock upon packets of money.
In a muttering blur of sound, as fast as the blur of his hands as he stacked it, the pile of packets, neatened, grew beside him. Then he was done.
"Oy," said Izzy. "Give or take miscounts in the packages, this is a MILLION DOLLARS!" He rubbed at his eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He looked at Heller. "How do you do these things?"
Maybe this isn't Izzy using a Secret Jew Money-Counting Technique. Maybe Hubbard views Izzy as an accountant first and foremost, and thinks any economist could learn this power. Yeah, that's it.
Heller again plays coy, stating that he has "secret admirers" who are "terrified I might go on welfare," and adds the mixed notes from Silva's wallet - including Gris' cash - to the pile. Izzy resolves to put it on arbitrage and play with foreign currencies until they make up the last $400,000 they owe the IRS. Heller gives Bang-Bang a ten thousand dollar tip because his friend was complaining about being "low on skirts," so I guess he's buying him a round with the girls at the Gracious Palms? Then Heller gives Izzy another hundred to buy the Still Unnamed Cat a leash and dish and things, "a decent spacekit."
1) This cat has not been in space and, god willing, will never go into space. There is no reason to call any items associated with him a "spacekit."
2) Just because you've gone into space doesn't mean you can add "space-" to perfectly normal words. Michael Collins does not get a "spacehaircut." Buzz Aldrin does not drive a "spacecar." Neil Armstrong does not enjoy a "spaceburger" with a "spacecoke" and a side of "spacefries." Especially when they aren't actually in space.
The cat curls up under Heller's desk lamp and purrs in his sleep, Heller adds the dead goons' IDs to the pile - yes, as always the hired thugs carried their identification with them, I guess you want to get a drink after you double cross and murder an uberassassin - and Heller refuses to explain to Bang-Bang just what happened on the roof that night. End chapter.
Apparently whoever planned on double-crossing Silva instead of paying him his fee was still willing to put that fee in a suitcase and send it out in to the world. Lucky for Heller, that.
Back to Chapter Four
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