Technically, the number is 50,000, so I could technically finish tomorrow or Wednesday. Realistically, it should be 80,000 but that’s really hard to do in a month without special training and no distractions. 60,000 is at about the height of my current prowess.
But I did write the ending today. Now we start throwing piles of words at places that I skipped over the first time!
(I can’t post the end because spoilers, so here’s an earlier bit.)
“So, what do we do about the crates?” Graciella asked me when we locked up again.
“I’ll let the bishop know the address,” I told her. “I figure he can deal with it from there.”
Graciella stopped and looked at me. “Wait. That’s it? Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I? This lead’s gone cold, and Bishop Cooper is gonna want to know where the stuff is.” I looked at her, puzzled. “You get that he didn’t know the exact location of the cellar, right? If he had, he would’ve told us the address.”
“But he didn’t tell us about the cellar at all!”
“Like I said earlier: it’s a lie of omission. You can’t get sore when a client lies to you, Graciella. Pissed? Sure. Mad? Sometimes, depending on what the lie is. But sore? It’s like getting sore at the sunset.”
“Okay, I get that.” I wasn’t sure if she had, but I’d worry about that later. Graciella went on, “But what about the cops?”
“What about them? What, you think they care if the Mormons ship swords and chainmail north? You think I do? That stuff is gonna end up being used on Badlands desperados and Dominion patrols. Which is, like, totally awesome, to quote the barbies.
“Now, if they were going to end up on the street here, the cops would have an opinion,” I conceded. “But the sooner they’re out of the cellar and on their way north to ruin some bad guy’s day, the happier we’d all be. Besides: if I don’t tell the cops, then they didn’t know. They kind of treasure their ignorance about this sort of thing.”