Cutter and Matt have tied straps around Books' unconscious body and now lower him down the side of the container. They strain with the effort of holding the dead weight.
"Man, he's one heavy fish," Cutter grunts.
"I'm guessing about two hundred and fifty pounds of pure Gym," Matt says.
Books' muscular frame swings gently from side to side. His head glances off the side of the container.
"Hey, careful there!" Jim yells up.
"Grab him before he breaks my goddamned back in two," Cutter moans.
Jim and Jedi reach up and help support Books' weight, as he comes to rest on top of a pile of ten-thousand-dollar notes that litter the ground all around.
Sophia kneels next to Books and reaches into a medic kit by her side. She removes a pair of surgical gloves from their packet and slides a deft hand into each glove.
Close by, Lloyd leans up against the container and watches. "I would've helped, guys, but this shoulder's giving me total shit."
"Sure it is!" Matt says.
Lloyd still presses a field dressing onto his wound. The bandage has soaked up some of his blood.
"You losing any more blood?" Sophia asks.
Lloyd lifts up the dressing and peeps under it. "Don't think I got much more blood left in me to bleed." He winces as he presses the bandage back in place.
"Really!" Sophia says. She turns her attention back to Books' facial injuries. "Christ, he's a mess."
Books' face is a mass of small wounds. Metal shards from the rifle's shattered scope are embedded into his neck, face and forehead. Some of them have cut in deep.
"That boy's lucky he didn't lose an eye," Jim says.
"Close," Sophia says.
Matt and Cutter climb down from the container. The Americans stand over Books and watch Sophia work on him.
"Need any help?" Matt asks.
Sophia nods toward a packet inside the medic kit. "Open that. And don't touch them—they're sterile wipes."
He rips open the packet and holds the open end toward Sophia. She takes the wipes and cleans Books' wounds.
"Now the tweezers," Sophia orders.
Again, Matt reaches into the medic kit and presents the tweezers to Sophia in the same careful way. She takes them and begins to remove shards of shrapnel from Books' face.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Jedi asks.
Sophia focuses. "He'll be fine. He's just knocked himself out. He'll have a few more scars, though."
"Cool."
Matt looks down at Books. He winces. "Keep sleeping, brother—you don't want to wake up right now."
Cutter wanders off and starts to pick up more of the money.
"Hey, Cutter?" Matt calls over.
"What?"
"You ever seen a ten-thousand-dollar bill before?"
"Nope—never been rich enough. You?"
"Never."
Lloyd says, "That's because there isn't any."
"Any what?" Cutter asks.
"They don't print ten-thousand-dollar bills any longer. The max is one hundred dollars. Makes it harder for the criminal fraternity to launder money. Thought you would know about that Cutter."
