The Briefcase In Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

Marcel. I rushed to untie my mum while Audrey did the same with my father. Pablo and his gang grumbled and made little sounds of pain as they lay huddled on the floor, while Marcel and his counterpart did not break a sweat. "My money," Pablo groaned "I want my money," "Marcel," That voice. There was something about it. Marcel placed a rather large silver-coloured briefcase on the only surviving chair in the living room and imputed a pin, the box clicked open, and all three women present, me inclusive gasped when I saw the contents of the box.

He took me to the display board where guns of different types were hung. "That's not all." He said. He took me to the bedroom where in the ground, a hidden safe was. Inside it were two briefcases. One was filled with raw cash. At first glance, there couldn't have been more less ten million dollars inside. "You were on your way to kill a target when you had the accident that almost claimed your life."

He pointed at the briefcase laid on the floor. "That briefcase. Could it be it?" He added and 'Scar-Face' hummed a reply before going over to check it out. He opened the black briefcase but there was no diamond in it. What struck his attention was that the pouch in the briefcase was specifically shaped like a diamond, that is to show that this briefcase was made to house a diamond but the diamond wasn't in it. Someone was with it and surely that person hadn't gone far. "Empty." 'Scar-Face' said then flung the briefcase away and it flew across the room.

Does he really have a hand in the death of Craig? How is she even sure that this isn’t some stranger named Rex who just looks really identical to Draco? Her heart breaks, her eyes becoming teary as she looks towards their table again and the scarred man flips open his briefcase and she strains her eyes to get a good view of what it contains— wads of cash. He turns the open briefcase to Draco and a wide smile splays Draco’s lips before he shuts the briefcase, reaches into his pocket and hands a parcel to the guy who shakes his hands and leaves promptly.

Then she brought out a few papers from a briefcase that had rested by the table the entire time, Martha wasn’t holding it when they walked in. Had she chosen the table beforehand and sent someone to set everything up? Martha opened up the black box and brought out a few papers and handed it over to Halle before setting the briefcase down on the floor. It was made out of premium black leather, it was shiny like it had been polished a thousand times but Halle knew it was just how the material was. Damn. That bag should’ve cost a fortune! “Please read through those and tell me what you think,” Halle looked down at the papers, there were only three of them.

I did not know why my mouth wanted stars more than the sound of the lullaby. At the end, when Miss Vivienne clapped like a magic trick, Dr. Hartman stood up to wash his hands. He left his briefcase on the chair. It was brown and smelled faintly of old paper and ink. He always had little things in his briefcase…colored pens, a box of candies, a small white receipt pad.

I quickly look away, trying to pretend like nothing happened. I look back at Elia and I see him receiving two briefcases from the receptionist. He glances at my direction before handing me one of the briefcase as we walk straight towards the elevator. I frown at the weight of the briefcase, ''What's in this?'' I ask. ''Weapons.'' He replies, casually. We step inside the suite before placing the briefcases on the coffee table. I eye him as he opens one of the briefcase and starts to check the weapons. Breathing out, I head towards the other side of the suite—finding a balcony.

I remember all these faces, especially the one carrying a briefcase. “Of course we do. It's high time we settle our differences—” “I don't care who the fuck you are. Give back what you stole and walk out alive,” I say defiantly, even with the fact that I'm surrounded by ten or twenty armed men, with no gun to defend myself. They took it out from me before i got in. “Easy...” He gets up from the stool and takes out a file from the briefcase. I get up immediately to take it but instead he brings out a lighter and sets it to flame on the edge of the sheet. I can't tell if the tape is in it.

I turned calmly, with a deliberate slowness that would infuriate her even more, and walked to my briefcase, placing it on the cold marble counter with a soft, precise click. "Perhaps," I conceded, my voice absurdly serene as I opened the briefcase. Inside, next to the documents that had sealed her public humiliation, was a wine-red lipstick, the only vibrant color in that arsenal of gray papers. I took it, feeling the cold weight of the metal tube in my hand.

At this point, nothing would have surprised me. Slowly, I opened it. The first thing I noticed was the gun. My eyes landed on it immediately. The weapon rested neatly inside the briefcase beside several folders and loose documents. Oddly enough, it didn't shock me. Charles carried guns. His brothers carried guns. Half the people connected to them carried guns. Finding one inside his briefcase was probably the least surprising thing I could have discovered. "Okay," I said quietly. "That part makes sense." I looked away from the weapon and focused on the paperwork.