What's In The Briefcase In Pulp Fiction นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“Didn’t mean to interrupt. I found these in a storage closet. My early tenure case files. Figured you might find something useful. Or at least some decent coffee stains.” He set the box down on the desk. I opened it and thumbed through the folders, a wave of scent rising—dust, ink, something vaguely citrusy. He hovered behind me. I pulled out a folder labeled CROSS-PACK INCIDENTS and opened it halfway. A page slipped out. We both reached for it at the same time. Our fingers touched.

He drops it on the table before Raven and steps back. My pulse pounds as Raven reaches for the briefcase and flutters it open. I can feel the lick of disaster inside me as he pulls out two things— divorce papers and a gun. Tbc.

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 didn't have to bother my brains how he'd pull it off. I took a long time at the bathroom, washing my face and scrubbing the dirt off it. Once I was done, I took off my clothes and changed into something more casual and informal. Wandering over to the table, I picked up the briefcase and took out the envelope out of it. What was in the envelope was a gun. I oaded it with bullets and wore a gun hostlers. Then I fixed the gun in and wore my coat. Before I stepped out of my room, I picked up Israel's journal and went through it.

His face was drawn and tight, no sign of the easygoing smile I’d come to know him with. I wordlessly handed him a glass of whiskey and he downed the entire thing in one gulp, barely flinching as he dropped to the couch, his briefcase falling beside him. “That bad, huh?” I say, perched on my desk. “What happened?” “A shitload of trouble just fell into my lap, that's what.” He spat out, extending his glass for another. I complied, looking at him. “Trouble? What are you talking about?” He pulled open the briefcase drawing a light brown folder my way. “Read it. It's the first thing I saw on my desk this morning when I came back from my mini getaway.”

Inside, the air was cold, damp, and thick with the metallic tang of blood. The scene that greeted me was not unfamiliar. Two men, their faces swollen and bruised beyond recognition, were shackled to a support beam, their bodies slumped. The delivery men. The ones audacious enough to smuggle firearms and gold bars from my Treasury. My men, burly figures cloaked in shadows, stood nearby, their expressions grim, their knuckles still raw. Clearly, they had taken pleasure in their work.

I hesitated, and that tiny pause made his eyes narrow. “Now,” he said. My fingers shook as I lowered the purse onto the glass desk. He motioned with the gun. “Open it.” I did. All that was in there was lip balm, a notepad,a fake résumé, a single metro card and a Chessie-O’s coupon. His jaw tightened. “Empty it.” I turned it upside down as everything clattered onto the glass in one big heap. He watched in silence, his gun still pointed at me. Then in one swift movement, he reached forward and swept through the contents with his free hand

I waved at him and returned to the room. I started searching for the briefcase. It’s a leather case. Dammit. Where is it? I opened all the cabinets. Nothing. I searched inside the comfort room. Nothing. Think Phoenix! My eyes roamed inside the suite. Where will he put it? “In two minutes I will be off the mic. Ready the car.” I said and started throwing the pillows off the bed. I lifted the mattress and there I saw the leather case. I opened it and I saw bundles of one hundred dollars. I closed it again and opened my black bag. I wore the bulletproof vest and my mask.

I kept low, whispering past a massive monster truck until a motorcycle in the corner caught my eye, and beside the front tire, half-hidden in shadow, lay a dark briefcase. This wasn't the time to hesitate, so I dropped to my knees, slid the case flat, and popped the latches. Carefully arranged inside were a compact stun gun with a buzzy edge, a pepper spray canister, a heavy LED baton, a tactical flashlight that smelled faintly of ozone, and a handful of other things that blinked and clicked in ways I didn't need to name to know they were useful. I swallowed, seeing as my heart kept on beating faster. I wanted to snatch a glance at all the strange gadgets scattered before me as a dozen odd c

Shadow closed his eyes and sigh, even if he sees the disk he won't be able to supsect him. He watch Mr Luis take out the cash from the briefcase, after he emptied it, he pushed it aside and start to go through the remaining balance. He was sure the money was complete, then he drew the briefcase closer and start to put them back. He continued until his hands touch something in the briefcase, he lift the money up and pulled out a disk "How did this get in here? Did you put it inside?" He asked.