The Getaway Man by Andrew Vachss Page B

the time to say so was before
    you got told all about it.”
    “I’m not saying anything
    like that,” Kaiser said. “I just don’t see why this kid
    should get a full cut just for being a limo service.”
    “You
    don’t have to see,” Gus said.
    “ N o hard feelings,
    right?” Kaiser said to me, later.
    “About
    what?”
    “About your share.”
    “I’m
    getting my share,” I told him.
    “Yeah, I know. I mean
    … you’re not slow, are you?”
    “If
    nobody’s chasing us, I always—”
    “I don’t
    mean slow
driving.
Christ, what are you, some kind of
    relative?”
    “Huh?”
    “Of J.C.’s. You
    any kin to him?”
    “No.”
    “Well, he sure
    looks out for you.”
    “I know.”
    “ W hat’s the point of having a getaway man if
    we’re going to be in this fucking tank?” Kaiser said from the
    backseat.
    “The point,” J.C. said, turning around to look
    at Kaiser, “is that, where we’re going, we have to blend in. The
    law sees this big old Jeep, they figure we’re a hunting party. Deer
    season’s open. We got licenses and everything. That explains why we got
    the rifles. And that’s why we’re dressed for the part. Understand,
    now?”
    “Yeah,” Kaiser said.
    “It’s
    all part of the plan,” J.C. told him. “My job is to think ahead.
    That’s what I get paid for.”
    T he house was mostly glass,
    shaped like a triangle, with the point on top. It was set in a stand of trees.
    If you weren’t looking for it, you would probably never see it.
    “Some ‘hunting lodge,’ huh?” J.C. said. “Only
    thing that doctor hunts up here is pussy.”
    “You sure the
    cash’ll be there?” Kaiser asked.
    “Cash and gold
    coins,” J.C. said. “This guy’s been doing outlaw abortions
    for years. He won’t do regular ones. Even comes out against them; says
    it’s ‘killing the unborn.’ Pretty slick, huh? Who’d
    ever think he was the man to see if your daughter was six months gone?
    “He’s got a little place where the girls can stay, before and
    after. Full-service. I heard he gets fifty large for each one. And not a dime
    of that gets reported, so it can’t go into the banks. He’s
    all-the-way dirty. When he comes back and finds his stash looted, he’s
    not even going to call the cops. This one is perfect.”
    “It’s a decent-sized place,” Gus said. “I wish we
    had an idea where he kept it.”
    “We’ve got all the
    time we need,” J.C. told him. “And nobody’s around to hear
    the noise.”
    G us went in first, around the
    back. When his flashlight blinked from inside the house, Kaiser took hold of a
    sledgehammer in one hand and a big pry bar in the other and walked over to the
    front door. J.C. was right behind him, carrying a toolbox.
    I knew
    they must be smashing the place to pieces inside, but I only heard a couple of
    thumps every so often.
    I couldn’t leave the engine running; it
    isn’t good for a motor to be idling for hours. I got out some cotton rags
    and sprayed cleanser on them. Then I did the windshield, the headlights, and
    the wipers, just in case. I’d already hooked up a toggle switch, so we
    could run without taillights if we had to.
    I never looked at my watch
    once, but I knew it was hours passing just by how I felt inside.
    T hey came out in a line. Gus was first, then Kaiser, then J.C. Gus and
    Kaiser were carrying tools; all J.C. had was a little suitcase.
    When
    I saw them coming, I got out to open the doors for them. Gus turned around, so
    he was facing Kaiser. He put his tools on the ground.
    “Don’t get in the car, Eddie,” J.C. said.
    Gus
    took out a pistol. He pointed it at Kaiser’s stomach.
    “There’s one behind you, too,” J.C. told him.
    “Hey! What the fuck is—?”
    “Open your
    hands,” J.C. said. “Let everything drop.”
    Kaiser did
    what they told him. J.C. took out some plastic loops and tied Kaiser’s
    hands behind his back.
    “Walk,” J.C. said. He made a
    movement with his head for me to come,