Until The Last Dog Is Hung – Part 6

3hardguysThe next morning I rang Marco after gettin’ myself up for the game. He seemed to be in a good mood when he answered, which helped.

“Hey Mick, what’s up man?”

“Hey Marco. Listen, I got wind of a nice little job that needs doin’. Good money, and it looks like a piece of cake. I thought of you, naturally.” I just about gagged at that last part, but it had to be said.

“Yeah? Well let’s not talk on the phone, you know? I’ll swing by later, say around 4. We’ll talk then. That cool?”

“Yeah, Marco. We’ll be here.”

I hung up with a sense of satisfaction. Fortune favors the brave. I’m pretty sure I heard that somewhere once. I hoped it was true. Now that I was sure Marco could be drawn in it was time to set some more wheels in motion. I picked up the phone again.

Marco showed around 4, Petey runnin’ to the window like an excited puppy when he heard Marco’s car pull in to the driveway. He waltzed in like a rock star and helped himself to a beer before ploppin’ himself down at the kitchen table and lookin’ at me expectantly. I let him stay that way for a minute while I continued writing down some notes. I wanted everything to look good. At last I looked up.

“Hey there, Marco. What’s shakin’?”

“You tell me, Mick. You’re the man with the plan, no?” He was smirkin’ like me bein’ the man was a laugh. I ignored it as much as I could.

“I got wind of a nice little gig, Marco. Good money, in and out in no time, easy pickin’s. I been working on it here. Let me lay it out for ya.”

Marco lounged in his chair and started strokin’ him beard. Usually a good sign.

“There’s this guy with a little nightclub in town. It’s a front for a big coke operation. I can get word next time he scores, but word is there’s always lots of cash in the safe too. It’s buried in the floor, nobody knows about it, see? Up until now. He let this guy I know go, and my buddy ain’t too good with it, so he was pouring his heart out to me the other day. I questioned him carefully, he knows all the ins and outs. He’s still in touch with one of the guys on the inside. He could tell us next time a deal is going down, we could take the coke and the money too.”

Marco was leaning forward now, but he was frowning. Not good.

“Knock over a drug deal? Shit, man, you wanna get us killed? There’s only three of us. How many are gonna be at this thing?”

“That’s the beauty of it, Marco. No more than five guys. The guy who owns the club, the seller, one each backup and one lookout. We take out the lookout and we only gotta deal with four guys. Yeah, they’ll be armed, but we can outgun them. You can get us a few semi-automatics, can’t you?”

Marco was back to the beard strokin’. “Yeah, I can do that. But who’s the dealer? If he’s connected we could be screwed.”

“He’s from out of town. Only comes in to do a deal with the club owner every couple of months. We could wait until he’s gone if you want and just knock over the club owner, but we’d lose the drugs. Still, we could settle for the payout money.”

Marco’s brain was workin’ overtime, I could see it. This was gonna be sweet. Finally he leaned forward again and grinned.

“Mick, you’re a real piece of work. I’m thinkin’ we can do this thing. Tell me more.”

We hunkered down and I spun the rest of my web.

Part 7 tomorrow.

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