The Heist

by Michael A. Black

  I can’t let myself feel sick, he told himself. Linc and the others are depending on me. I can’t be sick. Not now.

  He breathed in and out. If only he’d thought to bring a canteen to wash down his face a little. Maybe that would help. But it would wash off his paint, too, he thought. Marshaling what strength he could, he got to his feet and headed toward the darkened silhouette of the abandoned steel mill, the huge structure looking like a hulking monster back-lit by the rows of ubiquitous streetlights. He drank in a few more deep breaths of the cool night air, and suddenly, as his adrenalin kicked in, he began to feel stronger. The nausea and weakness were fading, and he knew then that everything was going to be all right.

  With trembling fingers, Linc deposited the coins into the pay phone slot and punched in the number. Germaine answered just after the first ring.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Linc said. “Where you at?”

  “Close, Linc. Very close.”

  “I mean, you in Hegewisch like I told you, right?”

  “We’re here.”

  “Okay, good,” Linc said. “Then go north on Torrence till you get on up to the East Side. We’ll meet inside the old Wisconsin Steel Works at midnight. Come down to gate Six-A. That’s at 106th and Muskegon.” Linc spoke slowly and plainly. “The gate’ll be open so you can drive right in. Go toward the buildings to your left. I’ll signal you when you get inside.”

  “Wait just a minute, Linc,” Germaine said. “Where exactly are you going to be?”

  “I’ll be inside too, driving a tan Olds. I’ll flash my lights and drive over to you once I see you inside and alone.”

  “Linc, we both know I am not going to be alone.”

  “Say what?”

  “I’ve got Diane with me, and a couple of my associates.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s cool. What kind of car you got?”

  “We’re driving a van. A recreational vehicle.”

  “I want Diane with me ’fore I give you the tape.”

  “And I want to check the tape before I give you her or the money,” Germaine said, but then paused. “But I can understand your anxiety, and I’m prepared to be somewhat flexible on that point.” His tone was almost affable. “Are you there now?”

  “Close,” Linc said, mimicking Germaine. “I’m very close. Midnight.” He hung up.

  “God dammit,” Ray swore as he twisted the steering wheel of the unmarked car and shot around a slower moving car on Michigan. Tony grabbed the oscillating red light that was now sliding over the length of the dashboard. “Who the hell woulda figured they’d meet on the fucking East Side, when all the shit’s been going down in Roseland.”

  His hand slammed onto the horn and he whipped around another car, ran the red light, and swung east onto 111th Street at the intersection.

  “For Christ’s sake, Ray, you’re driving like a fucking maniac,” Tony said, gripping the dash with his right hand, his left on the oscillating light again.

  “Don’t worry,” Ray said, grinning. “I drive as good as I box.”

  “Then I know we’re in trouble. But slow it down, will ya. There’s no sense getting into an accident. We’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes or so, anyway.”

  “Ten, the way I drive,” Ray said. They were shooting by Michigan and heading into Pullman. “We gotta get that fucking tape, Tony, otherwise the whole thing goes down the drain, now that we ain’t got the Mink anymore.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Tony said grimly. “This is my last shot at Vino, which is why I don’t want to blow it by getting into a wreck on the way. Now slow it down, will ya?”

  Ray seemed to ignore him at first, then eased off the gas pedal ever-so-slightly. “You want to call for back-ups from District Four on city-wide?” he asked.

  “Let’s wait till we get over there,” Tony said. “We don’t want any blue-and-whites nosing around and spooking them. If we can, we sneak up to the mill, get an eyeball on them, and then call for the cavalry, okay?”

  “Sounds good to me, partner,” Ray said.

  The lights of the Calumet Expressway were just becoming visible up ahead.

  CHAPTER 18

  Friday, April 17, 1992

  Around Midnight

  Rick had used his extra time to move up cautiously from the west side of the building, where he’d made his entrance, toward the eastern-most end. Hopefully, the meet would take place there. He used his flashlight sparingly, allowing himself only a quick burst of light through the red lens every few feet. The M-16 was held at the ready out in front of him. Even though he was positive that the enemy couldn’t have correctly anticipated the exchange location, he couldn’t afford to take anything for granted. Do it by the book, he told himself. The enemy. It seemed a strange designation here in the States as a civilian. In the Corps things had seemed so much clearer. They had their orders to follow, their mission to accomplish. This time they had a mission, too, but it was different somehow. He felt as if he’d wandered into some sort of “twilight zone,” just like on that old TV show. Only this wasn’t TV.

  He forced his mind back on the task at hand. The inside of the massive building had been gutted, and large sections of the roof and sidewalls removed, showing dark velvet patches of the starless sky. But despite the overcast, a full moon illuminated things through the holes in the roof, and made the movement easier. Only the rusted metal stairways remained, along with remnants of old boilers and partially disassembled platforms. Rusting chains still hung from anchored pulleys, and heaps of trash had been pushed into piles of various sizes. The shell of the building was at least one-hundred-and-fifty-yards long. The floor was cement, but weeds had somehow begun to crop up through the cracks and would occasionally pull at his boots like grasping hands. Rick moved to a position of cover and surveyed the remaining area between him and the open expanse where the two overhead doors had once been.

  Take the high ground, he told himself, as he headed for a stairway that wound around to a catwalk above the entrance. The metal walkway extended over the gaping holes of the door spaces and went to the other side of the building. The stairs made slight creaking sounds as he ascended. Rick moved cautiously at first, testing the metal for sturdiness, but it felt pretty secure. He got up to the top of the catwalk and made his way to the opposite wall. A small room, which must have housed some sort of heating unit, was situated in the corner. Rick pushed through the warped door, ducking instinctively as the hinges groaned.

  Good thing no one was around to hear that one, he thought. The room was about fifteen feet square, with a large pipe running up from the floor and out the side of the wall near a window. The window was hung from above with a handle that secured it to the center of the base-frame. The glass, which had been lined with some sort of chicken-wire, hung in jagged sections. Rick pulled an old dilapidated metal chair over to the window and stepped up on it. The window slid out from its base and he looked outside. A three-foot-wide ledge ran parallel to the ground just under the window. It spanned the width of the building. Rick slipped the rifle over his shoulder and adjusted the sling. Then he braced both hands on the window frame and boosted himself up. Levering over the base of the frame to the outside, he carefully lowered himself down to the ledge, testing it gingerly with his left foot. The structure felt solid underfoot. He lowered himself the rest of the way down and fell into a crouch, then flattened out. The coolness of the night air felt good against his face. From this vantage point he could keep tabs on the entire situation. The yard was about fifty feet below, and there was a small ridge that ran along the edge of the ledge that even afforded him a modicum of concealment.

  Escape would be tricky, but if everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t really have to worry about that. Maybe the guy had been sincere and would just trade Diane for the tape, give Linc the promised money, and they could slip out without a shot being fired.

  Yeah, right, he thought. Get used to the idea that you’re gonna have to take these guys out. Otherwise, everybo
dy down there that I care about is gonna die.

  He resolved to wait till Linc made his move, then take out the rest of them. After all, they were dealing with scum. The same kind of assholes who had lain in wait for him and Linc in their apartment. He knew from his previous combat experiences that he couldn’t afford to start thinking of his foes in anything that remotely resembled human terms. When it was over, he’d go back up through the window and down the stairs. From there he’d just make his way to the river, ditch the rifle in the water, and wait for Linc to come pick him up at the base of the bridge.

  He heard static on his headset and glanced around. Then Linc’s voice came over.

  “Rick, you read me?”

  “Yeah,” Rick said.

  “I’m coming in the gate now,” said Linc.

  Rick’s gaze moved over to the fence line and he saw the blacked-out Olds pushing back the gate. The big sedan crept around the old crane and went right, toward the eastern section of buildings. When Rick saw the brake lights flash he said, “Better use the emergency brake to stop it or you’ll give away your position.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Linc.

  The Olds swung around and faced west.

  “Where you at, bro?” asked Linc.

  “I’m on the roof,” Rick said. “Well, almost. Watch for the flash.”

  He shined his red flashlight again.

  “Got you,” Linc said. “I’ll drive right up under you when they get here.”

  “I can cover just about the whole yard from up here,” Rick told him. “Just watch your asses when I start opening up with this mother.”

  “Sounds good,” Linc answered.

  “Where’s Henry at?”

  “Uncle Henry, can you hear us?”

  There was a static-laden, indistinguishable reply.

  “He’s out there,” Linc said. “You hear him?”

  “Huh-un,” Rick said. “I must be too far away. Sometimes you’re fading in and out too.”

  “Say, when they get here I’m gonna have to put this headset antenna down so they don’t see it and freak,” Linc said. “Thinkin’ about slipping it down under my collar. That way you’ll be able to hear what’s goin’ down.”

  “But then you won’t be able to hear me,” Rick said. “Let’s try a couple of test runs now.”

  “Can’t,” Linc said, the urgency creeping into his voice. “Here they come.”

  Rick’ saw a dark van bumping through the opening. The driver kept the headlights on as the vehicle steered around the fallen crane and proceeded to the left. Rick leaned over the edge and watched the van drive almost directly below him, turn around facing east, and then stop. The vehicle’s lights went out.

  “Linc, you read me?”

  “Yeah, bro. I’m gonna have to make the move now, so I’m tucking this thing down.”

  Rick’s earphones exploded with static and loud scraping noises. He saw the lights of the Olds flash, then the van’s did the same. Slowly the Olds started traversing the grassy area between the two buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, Rick caught some movement back by the gate. Another vehicle, some sort of big sedan with no lights, had pulled up and parked parallel to the gate, blocking it. All four doors opened and Rick watched as six figures moved stealthily toward the crane. They all seemed to be carrying rifles of some sort. A second car pulled up behind the first one and parked. Four more men got out of that one and began slipping through the gap in the fence.

  “Uh-oh, we got trouble,” Rick said into his mike. “You read me. Linc?”

  No answer.

  “Linc, you read me? There’s at least ten other players moving up on you at this time. Do you read?”

  Silence.

  “Shit,” Rick said. “Henry, you picking me up?”

  There was a garbled reply.

  “Henry, I hope that’s a yes, ’cause we got real problems now. We’ve got about ten hostiles moving toward Linc from the front gate. Looks like they’re armed with rifles.” Rick tried to speak slowly and clearly. “As soon as Linc makes his move, I’m gonna try and take out the ones on my side. You’ll have to open fire from yours, but stay down. When I see their muzzle flashes I’ll spray the area. You got it?”

  His earphones began to pick something up, but it was drowned out by a sudden blast of some type of radio signal. Possibly a C.B. radio from a passing truck. Christ, they hadn’t even figured on this frequency being so low that it could be stepped on by more powerful waves. In the Marines they’d always had the luxury of having their own nets, and scramblers if necessary.

  “Linc, do you read?” Rick voice gritted into the mike. “You’ve got hostiles moving up on you from the north, over.”

  The Olds continued to move toward the van, which had pulled around the corner of the building in the same area where it had stopped. The back door of the van popped open and three men slipped out, flattening against the wall. Rick stuck his head over the edge again and knew he wouldn’t be able to take that group out. They were too far under him and too close to the wall. He probably could get them if he were on the ground, but he had to maintain the high ground position to deal with the others moving in from the street.

  “Linc, we’ve got three more, at least, set up behind the van,” he said. “I don’t know if you can hear me, buddy, but this doesn’t look good.” He realized with belated regret that they should have worked some sort of distress signal independent of the radios.

  Rick’s thumb snapped the lever of the M-16 from safe to semi. He had no choice but to hope Linc had heard him, and wait for his partner to make the first move. He’d take out as many of them as he could from the ledge, then move down to ground level and mop up the rest. Suddenly he wished they were back in the Corps, with a squad of highly trained men with them, ready to get the job done.

  It’ll be a miracle if we all survive this, he thought.

  Linc felt the bounce of the suspension as the Olds went over the grassy area between him and the van. It was parked facing his direction, about twenty feet beyond the corner of the building. He glanced up to the position where he’d last seen Rick and figured to stop about thirty feet this side of them to give Rick a clear field of fire. First, he had to get Diane out. Then take out whoever was in front of him and let Rick do the rest. Hopefully all Uncle Henry would have to do would be to grab Diane and scoot out the back way. Linc felt for the Glock tucked into the side of his pants.

  “I’m movin’ in now, Rick,” Linc said into his mike. He’d heard a constant blare of static from his earphones since taking the antenna down, so he’d turned the volume control way down. Linc flipped on the headlights and lit up the area, then punched the brights-button on the floor with his left foot. He could see at least three heads in the van. One of them looked like Diane’s. The other two looked masculine.

  As he drew closer he could distinguish that the driver was a white guy, with grayish hair combed back like Elvis Presley. Diane sat in the middle and on her right was the same big, black motherfucker that had tried to take him in the house. He scanned the field before him and thought he saw a flicker of movement by the corner of the building. If he’d been alone, or if Diane hadn’t been in that goddamned van, he’d have swung the Olds around and taken off, then called the motherfucker back on his little cellular phone and told him to go pound sand up his ass. But it was all or nothing now. They were in too deep. And there was Diane.

  Linc cut his lights and came to a stop adjusting the Olds so it would be between him and the side of the van when he got out. That would give him a little cover from hostile fire if the thing went bad right away. Now it wasn’t a question of whether or not it was going bad, only how soon it would, and if he could extricate Diane before it got hot. The side door of the van slid open displaying a lighted interior. It was one of those fancy RVs that had a raised roof, plush seats, and a small table with a portable TV and VCR. The white guy got out of the driver’s door and ambled around the front of the van.

  “You mu
st be Linc,” the man said. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” It was the same southern accent that Linc had heard on the phone. The guy looked to be a genuine cracker.

  The man made no effort to move toward him, and that was good because in the moonlight, Linc could see the butt of a big chrome-colored revolver tucked in the front of his pants.

  Linc nodded and said, “I want to see Diane.”

  “Understandable,” Germaine said. “And have you got what I want?” He held up a roll of currency.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Linc said, holding up the tape in his left hand. With his right, he gripped the Glock and pulled it out from his belt, just letting it hang down by his leg.

  “Why, Linc, do I detect a hostile action?”

  “Yeah, cracker, just like I detected those motherfuckers waiting over there by the building. You said no tricks, and I took you at your word.”

  “I am a man of my word, Linc,” Germaine said. “And just to show you that, I’m going to give you Diane in exchange for the tape.”

  Linc saw a sudden shift of movement inside the van and Diane was at the side door, sitting on the big man’s lap. His long legs splayed forward, extending almost leisurely out of the open side door. The black asshole’s left arm was around her chest, and his right hand was holding a big-bladed knife just up under her chin.

  “You motherfucker, let her go now,” Linc said, leveling the Glock at Germaine.

  “Put the gun down and place the tape on the roof of your car, Linc,” Germaine said. “Then come around here and you can have her.”

  “Fuck you,” Linc said.