Guns

Начало книги

The night of the liquor-store job, you could fry eggs on the sidewalk. It was seven o’clock already, and outside it was still an oven. Colley was all for calling off the job. Even there inside the cafeteria, with the air conditioner going, he was sweating.

“No,” Jocko said. “I think we’re primed for it, we should go ahead.”

“Because when it’s this hot,” Colley said, “things could go wrong.”

“Nothin’ll go wrong, don’t worry.”

“Guys lose their temper, guys take stupid chances,” Colley said.

“Only one guy in the store,” Jocko said, “and he won’t take no chances, don’t worry.”

“Or lose his temper or something, this heat,” Colley said.

“Only heat he’s gonna know is the gun I stick in his face,” Jocko said. “I’ll tell him up front he opens his mouth, his brains are on the wall.”

“Same as always,” Teddy said, and shrugged.

Colley looked at him. Teddy shrugged again. He was their driver, what the hell did he care if something happened inside the store? If something started in there, he’d throw her in gear and ride off into the sunset, the hell with the two dopes inside with guns in their hands. With heat like this, you never knew what was going to happen. When you got a guy on a cold winter day, he’d open the register without a peep. But on a day like today, when his underwear was creeping up his behind, or he maybe had an argument with a delivery man, who knew what might happen? When it was hot like this, you told him to open the register, he was liable to take a swing at you. So then you’d have to use the gun.

Читать дальше →