"Fucker's alive," Theo Tonin deadpanned. "Fucker shoots me in the fuckin' EYE, jumps out a fuckin' PLANE-with my fuckin' cocaine, no less- and for thirty years he's been alive and fuckin' well in shit-creek county, Kentucky!?"
Nicky Augustine blinked and resisted the urge to reach for his ringing ears, "We don't know he's alive still. Thirty years is a long time."
Wrong thing to say. "Really, Nicky?" Theo narrowed his eyes at him, hand in his pocket, "Anybody else know that? Did anyone else in the fuckin' brain trust and loan not know that thirty years is a long fuckin' time?" Theo turned back to the cringing Nicky, "Thank you, Nicky, for bringing that fact to my attention. I'll keep it under advisement."
"Our man in the FBI says-"
" 'Our man in the FBI', he says," Theo started at the ear again. "Our man in the FBI," he said, seeming to savor the letters on his tongue, "Nicky's buddy in the FBI has out lived his usefulness, hasn't he? He's certainly not mentioning that since our Agent Barnes took the bullet-to-the-brainpan exit, the Bureau is no longer in charge of anything. The fucking Marshals Service is. The same fuckin' Marshals Service that came after Bobby in Frankfort, the same fuckin' office, probably the same fucker in that fucking hat!"
"We can find Drew Thompson before the Marshals," Nicky said softly.
Theo's eyes flashed at Nicky and Nicky flinched, "What am I? A fuckin' dinosaur? Am I a fuckin' T. Rex that you gotta speak quietly around, is that it?" Theo continued ranting, pacing in his bathrobe. A deranged Hefner with a straight blade fetish. "Am I a crazy no one can speak in an acceptable tone of volume? Does everyone think that? Is that it, Nicky? I'm a fuckin' nut that everybody's got to be quiet around so I don't lose it? Am I gonna lose it?"
"No, sir. I don't think you're going to lose it," Nicky said, ears bleeding metaphorically.
" 'No, sir. I don't think you're going to lose it'," Theo sneered at the ear. "Really, because I feel like I'm gonna lose it. How did everyone fuckin' miss that Drew Thompson wasn't a fuckin' pancake?
"You go to that fuckin' backwater. You find that Dewey guy -the one that Bobby dealt with- Breeze or Wind or whatever his fuckin' name is. You get him to find Drew Thompson. He's lookin' for a promotion with me anyway. Set him after Drew and you let your Feeb buddy know we know he's outlived his usefulness. You get me, Nicky? I know you was friends-"
"But business is business," Nicky finished for him. "I'll take care of it, sir." Nicky nodded and retreated out before Theo could take anything else up with either Nicky or the ear.
Fuckin' Kentucky, armpit of America. Give him Detroit any day.