The Man With the Getaway Face by Richard Stark Page A

Handy walked back around to the Ford. The job had taken three minutes. Alma came out as Handy was changing his shirt, and said, "See you at the farmhouse."
    "Right," said Handy. Parker was behind the wheel of the Ford and didn't say anything.
    The Dodge came around the corner of the building, its rear end low because of the weight in it now, and stopped. Skimm slid over, and Alma got behind the wheel. The Dodge shot off along the dirt road.
    Handy finished changing his shirt and came around to get into the Ford on the passenger's side. He tossed the blue shirt and the belt and holster and the garrison cap on the floor behind the front seat. Parker started the Ford and they went around the diner and paused near the two trucks and the armoured car.
    Traffic went by, headed south, and then there was no traffic. When the traffic started again, Parker joined it and they went over the course with no trouble, catching all the lights. They went across the bridge and paid the fifty-cent toll at the Mission-style tool booth and went around the circle to 440. They felt easier now, because they were in a different state, but Parker still drove fast. There was a car far ahead of them, nothing behind them. One car went by in the other direction, towards the bridge.
    When they got to the spot they'd chosen for the trap, Parker turned left through the gap in the mall. He shifted into neutral, put on the emergency brake, and got out of the car. In the truck were sunglasses and a red baseball cap and a red flat and a large metal sign that said, "Detour", in black letters on a yellow background.
    Parker put on the sunglasses and the baseball cap, and stuck the red flag in his back pocket. He looked both ways, but there was no traffic, so he crossed the road and found a dead branch on the other side. He used that to prop up the detour sign in the right-hand lane, but beyond the dead-end turn-off. In the meantime, Handy turned the Ford around so it was backed into the bushes and facing across the road. When Alma took the detour, he'd drive across and block her exit.
    Parker lit a cigarette and waited. A pale green Volkswagen came along, and slowed when it saw Parker and the detour sign. Parker took out the red flat and motioned for the Volkswagen to go by in the passing lane. The Volkswagen did, with a young man driving and the girl beside him wearing a yellow bandana and reflecting sunglasses. She looked at Parker as they went by, and then twisted around to look at him some more through the rear window. "He looked tough."
    The young man looked at her, but because of the reflecting sunglasses he saw his own face instead of her eyes. But then she licked her upper lip, the top of her tongue moist and trembling, and he said, "Ah. A ditchdigger."
    Parker finished smoking his cigarette, and looked across at Handy. Handy was hunched at the wheel, the position of his body looking nervous. Parker began to wonder if Skimm had been in on the cross. If he had been, she wouldn't be coming along this road. But it didn't make sense that Skimm had been in it, it didn't figure that way at all.
    Another car came into sight way down the road and Parker stood up straighter. But when it came closer it turned out to be an old black Packard with a prim old woman at the wheel, and Parker motioned for her to go by in the passing lane. She stopped instead, and leaned out the right-hand window. "What seems to be the trouble, young man?"
    "Roadwork," he answered.
    "It certainly is about time!" She straightened again and drove off.
    A little while after the Packard had disappeared at the far curve. Parker saw the Dodge coming. He knew it was the Dodge the second he saw it, and he motioned at Handy. Handy grinned, and let go of the wheel. He could relax now. The dodge came closer, and Parker could see that Alma was alone in it, so he'd been right all the way down the line.
    The Dodge was coming fast, too fast for someone who couldn't afford to be stopped by the law, and