The King of New York

Read previous chapters here.

—

The third robbery Sam planned went wrong from the very start. It was a shitshow.

They’d gotten in the habit of meeting at Sam’s rental house before and after a job. That’s how they’d done it the first time and it had become something of a habit for them. Only this time, Casey showed up drunk and pissed off. Quinton had tried to talk him into sitting this one out, or calling it off altogether, but Casey was on one and couldn’t be persuaded. He was usually a happy drunk and angry when he was sober. This was the worst of both worlds. He was broke and had been since the last job—something about a girl and her brother and business opportunity, Sam and Quinton still weren’t sure what happened—so he was looking forward to the money from this new job. So much so that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Even when Sam told him no way he was doing it with him in this condition, the job was off, Casey got so angry, he pointed his chrome 9mm in Sam’s face and pulled back the hammer.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Casey said, his eyes void of any emotion.

Sam swallowed hard and looked at Quinton for help. “Q—.”

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Casey said, his gun pressed firmly against Sam’s forehead. “I’ve already told you once: you can plan these little jobs if it makes you feel important. But we go when I say we go. Got it?”

Today wasn’t the day to try him.

“Alright, Casey. Just take it easy,” Sam said.

He was trying to keep his voice calm and the piss from running down his leg. This was the second time one of his partners had pulled a gun on him. Maybe they didn’t like him as much as he thought.

They plied Casey with coffee and headed out, the three of them piled in Quinton’s Mark V. It was shining in the daylight and Sam could tell Quinton was proud of the car. He had washed and waxed it just for the occasion. They cruised through a few busy parking lots before Quinton spotted what he wanted. The old Land Cruiser was parked right in the middle of the movie theater parking lot, plenty of coverage from prying eyes. Quinton parked his car and they hustled toward the Land Cruiser. Within a hundred seconds of Quinton popping open the driver’s side door, they were pulling out of the parking lot and headed for Brooklyn.

They took their time and drifted across the bridge as Casey finished his fourth cup of joe. He was amped up and ready for some action.

“Why do we gotta come all the way over here for a job?” he asked.

His knee was bouncing up and down in the backseat.

“Because you don’t shit where you eat,” Quinton answered for Sam.

A little after 4pm, they found what they were looking for. Their target was making its last pickup of the day at a bodega on S. 9th street, its cargo area full of canvas bags brimming with cash and coins. Sam had pitched the idea of hitting an armored truck to the guys, making sure to mention the potentially huge amount of cash if they caught the truck at the right moment. Really, the point was for Sam to expand his mission beyond just banks and to keep Saul guessing. Quinton and Casey were in as soon as they heard “huge amount of cash.” What they didn’t know was Sam had been watching this particular truck since before their first robbery attempt. He’d followed it on its route three times now, each time in a different vehicle, and knew it had potential. He liked that they serviced the bodega on S. 9th last. That meant they could pop the truck and be on the BQE headed north before they were spotted. If they were lucky and traffic wasn’t too stacked, they could be back to Sam’s house within 90 minutes, even after putting the Land Cruiser back where they found it and picking up the Mark V. That had been the plan anyway.

“There it is. Perfect timing,” Sam said as they pulled down the street.

Quinton gunned it and pulled the Land Cruiser in front of the parked armored truck, and the three of them jumped out, each with an M4 aimed and waiting. The big guns had been Casey’s idea. He’d bought them off some old timer with a mustache who called himself Stick. Sam didn’t like relying on Casey for anything, especially weapons. His judgment was suspect at best, but he’d been insistent on them using the M4s for this job.

When they pulled up, the sidewalks were full of people coming and going, but then three masked men with automatic weapons were suddenly in the street and no one saw a reason to stick around. Casey pivoted around the back of the truck as Sam and Quinton covered him on each side. The driver in the cab was reading his newspaper and hadn’t seen them yet. Casey found the other guard climbing into the back of the truck with the latest pickup and quickly grabbed his belt, dragging him backwards. Only, Casey didn’t mean to pull so hard, and the force caused the guard to slip. He let out a painful yelp as his head slammed against the rear bumper and then against the pavement. Blood seeped from the unconscious guard’s head, but Casey didn’t notice. He had zip tied the guard then hopped into the truck and was grabbing as many canvas bags as he could and tossing them toward the open doors of the cargo hold.

“Adams, you good?” Sam called out but didn’t hear a reply.

Sam kept his weapon trained on the driver in the cab who was now fully aware of what was going on. He wasn’t supposed to exit the vehicle, but you never knew with guys like that. Sam watched and waited. Still no reply from Casey.

“Go check on him,” Sam said to Quinton.

Quinton carefully moved around his side of the truck and found Casey knee deep in bags of money.

“Man, we have made it,” he said as he tossed bags at Quinton.

Quinton laughed and grabbed every bag within reach, even slinging his M4 over his shoulder so he could carry more bags. He was so busy grabbing bags of cash, he didn’t notice his right foot was standing in a small pool of blood.

“Twenty seconds!” Sam yelled from the front of the truck.

“Almost done,” Quinton finally called back.

Sam was getting nervous. Something felt off about this. He felt exposed out in the open like this, like there were thousands of eyes on him and they all knew exactly who he was. Casey and Quinton came around the side of the truck, each carrying six bags full of cash. Sam’s eyes lit up. Holy shit, it even more than he expected. He was so distracted by the bags of money, he didn’t see the guard in the cab open the door and bail out. It caught him off guard and he swung his weapon over but held his fire. The loud report of an M4 scared him as Casey opened fire, spraying rounds into the panel of the driver’s side door that hung open.

“Cease fire!” Sam yelled at Casey as the scared guard scampered to safety.

“What are you doing?” Quinton yelled at Casey as he tossed his bags into the back seat. “Let him go!”

“We gotta find that guy,” Casey said.

“No! We gotta go now,” Sam said as he jumped into the driver seat.

Casey looked back toward where the guard had been and considered his options. Sirens could be heard in the distance.

“Goddammit!” Casey said as he climbed in. Sam slammed the Land Cruiser into gear and headed for the Expressway. Two cop cars came sliding into view just as they turned a corner, headed for the on ramp.

“Holy shit!” Casey said from the backseat. “Look at all this cash!”

Quinton turned to his buddy and smiled. Sam gripped the steering wheel tight and focused on the road as his partners celebrated. He didn’t care about the cash. This job had been for nothing as far as he was concerned. The piece of paper felt heavy in his pocket. It was useless now.

With Quinton now suspicious of Saul’s involvement in the robberies, he’d had to make other arrangements to get his message out. The plan had been to wait until Casey and Quinton were distracted by the bags of money and then stick the piece of paper into the front grill of the truck. On it, another direct challenge to Detective Saul Augustine. He’d typed it out carefully the night before, using latex gloves to handle the piece of paper so as not to leave fingerprints. He quietly pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket and let it fall from his hand out the window and onto the Expressway below them.

“What was that?” Quinton asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said as he weaved through traffic back toward Yonkers.

By the time they’d switched cars again and got back to Sam’s house to count the cash, Casey’s mood had improved remarkably.

“Can you believe it?” he said as he groped handfuls of cash.

“Pretty crazy, Sam,” Quinton said.

He gave Sam a congratulatory slap on the back before grabbing his own stack of cash to play with. It was spread everywhere in Sam’s small living room. All he could see was evidence and how it could send them all away for a very long time.

“Let’s count it and get it to my guy. Gonna be a nice cut for each of us,” Sam said as he started straightening up a few bills for counting.

“Just chill out, man,” Casey said. “Enjoy it a little. You’re all business. You gotta learn to slow down and smell these roses every now and then, man.”

Casey picked up a stack of cash and took a deep sniff as he smiled from ear to ear. New money had that effect on him.

“I’ll enjoy it when it’s washed and we can actually spend it,” Sam said as he forced a smile.

He had to get it back home and burned before anyone found it. Time was ticking.

“How much you think is here?” Quinton asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered truthfully. “Could be over a hundred.”

“Holy Mother of Christ,” Casey said. He still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming. “That’s more than thirty a piece. Fuck a duck.”

“You can pay to watch someone do that now if you want,” Quinton said with a laugh.

“No, I know what I’m gonna do. Sam, your guy can clean this and have it back tomorrow, right?”

Sam wondered how he was going to explain the need for this much cash to Bernard. He’d give it to him, but it would raise questions. He and Gerry had already burned over fifty thousand in his backyard, with more on the way. This little venture was getting expensive.

“I don’t know. Might take two or three days. I’ve never brought him this much before,” he said.

“That’ll work. We’re gonna throw a big ass party. Biggest Yonkers has ever seen. Saturday night at the river. We’re inviting everyone, Q. And I mean everyone,” Casey said as he raised his hand to give Quinton a high-five.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Quinton said, his own excitement growing. “I’m in, man,” he said as he clapped his hand against Casey’s.

Sam put on a smile as he continued to straighten piles of cash. Being seen at a party with these two was the last thing he needed.

“You two gotta chill out,” Sam said. “Spending that much cash raises questions, especially when you don’t have a way to explain it. We’ve gotta be smart here.”

He waited for the rebuttal he knew was coming.

“Don’t shit on my party, Sam. Don’t even think about it,” Casey said.

“I’m not, man. Just be reasonable. How are you—a guy with a shitty apartment and beat up car, no offense—going to explain being able to throw that kinda party?”

“I don’t know, shit. My aunt died and left me some money. There. Done,” Casey said as he looked to Quinton for approval.

“That means this would be a one-time thing. You okay with that?” Sam asked, the black canvas bags finally full and ready for transport.

“Sure, whatever.”

“I’m serious, Casey. Being stupid is how people get caught. We’ve talked about this.”

“Just chill out, Sam,” Quinton said. “We can handle it. We’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.”

Sam couldn’t argue that.

“Yeah, we’ve got this,” Casey said, getting excited again. “So, you’re coming, right? You gotta be there, Sam. You’re one of us,” Casey said.

It wasn’t lost on Sam that Casey was pushing a gun into his forehead not two hours before.

“Wouldn’t miss it, brother,” Sam said with a smile.

—

 “Why are we here?” Tessa asked loudly.

She was leaning against their unit, her sunglasses and a bored expression on her face. Saul was stalking the crowded armored truck crime scene, his interest certainly piqued but not yet fully engaged.

“These aren’t even our guys,” she said.

“Who says?”

“Says me. Says the evidence. Says witnesses. Yeah, there were three perps like the other crew, but these guys hit an armored car, not a bank, and they used autos. Our guys have never used anything bigger than a shotgun. And most of all—and I’m sorry to bring this up—they did not, in any way, mention the distinguished Detective Augustine of New York City proper. So like I said, what are we doing here?”

Saul stopped what he was doing to listen to her breakdown of their crime scene. She may be getting too big for her britches. He’d address that later.

“You done?” he asked.

She made a face at him like, are you?

“Saul, I’m hungry and you’re wasting time. Let’s go and let these guys handle it. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Listen, I know you have upwards of six years on the job and all the wisdom that comes from such extensive experience, but will you just take it easy? There’s something here. I can feel it. The one guard didn’t see anything. Hell, he’s lucky he’s not in a coma with the size of the knot on his head. But the driver, he saw these guys. He nearly shit himself telling me how they fired the automatics at him, but he saw all three. Their style matches our crew, and autos just mean they’re escalating. You learned that at the academy for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s a stretch, Saul. Two previous jobs and our crew made sure to mention you by name. Both times. Nothing this go around. Why the change all of a sudden? Doesn’t track.”

“Even if one of them called the other one ‘Adams’?” Saul asked with a sly smile.

“Well now, that’s different,” Tessa said, suddenly engaged. “Still, why no mention of you if it is them?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out. Maybe they got distracted when the one took shots at the driver and just forgot. Maybe not. Maybe the sirens scared them off. I don’t know. But I can’t shake the feeling this is our guys,” he said. “There’s something here.”

“Are you sure you’re not just wanting it to be them? Don’t make the facts fit your theory, Saul. You taught me that.”

His mood turned sour.

“Watch how you talk to me, girly. I’m still your superior. It’s in your best interest to remember that.”

Tessa swallowed hard. What the hell was going on? He hadn’t talked to her like that in a long time. The pressure must be getting to him, she thought.

“You guys wanna look at this footprint or should I just send it ahead to forensics?” the scene tech asked.

Saul and Tessa froze.

“Footprint?”

“You’ve got a footprint? Where?” Saul asked.

“Near the back. One of the perps stepped in the guard’s blood after he cracked his head. Pretty good print, all things considered,” the tech said as she led them to the back of the truck.

“Any specifics?” Saul asked.

“It’s a boot of some sort, size 11, but that’s all I got for now. We took a cast of it. We should know more in a couple days. Should I send it ahead or what?”

“No no…we’re very interested,” Saul said as he gave Tessa a small smile she didn’t return.

They finally had a break, no matter how small.

—

Sam sped the cash through three separate cash counters as he waited. He was already up to seventy-five grand and had three stacks to go.

“Nice haul this time,” Gerry said as she watched, her eyes on the loose cash spread around the office.

“More than I thought it’d be. Not sure I have enough to cover it,” Sam said.

“Everything go okay?”

“It was rough. Casey showed up drunk and it went downhill from there. We got away clean, I think, but I didn’t get to leave the message. Got distracted and then I heard sirens. We took off before I got the chance.”

“So you’re about to burn piles of cash and replace it with your own money and you get literally nothing out of it.”

“Don’t remind me, Gerry,” Sam said. “This shit is getting expensive.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and pushed another pile of cash through the counters.

“How much so far?”

“We counted over a hundred at the rental, but it’ll be more before I’m done. I didn’t think we’d get this much. I had enough on hand to cover the first two, but this is more than those combined. I’ll need to talk to Bernard to cover this much. He’s gonna kill me.”

Gerry thought about it as she watched the cash go tthppt tthppt, tthppt through the machines.

“Tell him you have a friend in need and you want to help, but it needs to be cash,” Gerry said. “Ask for two-fifty so you only have to ask once. That should float us for a while. He’ll want to ask a few questions but tell him it’s a one-time thing and you know it’s risky. It’ll make his teeth itch, but he’ll release it to you. I mean, he has to. It’s yours and the little British twat works for you, doesn’t he?”

Sam nodded along. That could work.

“Still don’t like it. This is getting expensive,” he said.

Gerry watched her nephew for a moment, a thought running through her mind.

“My cut can wait this time,” she offered.

Sam nodded his thanks and kept the machines running.

“Gotta ask, Sam. Is this all still worth it?”

Sam thought long and hard. He’d been wondering the same thing lately.

“I don’t know…” he answered truthfully.

Gerry grabbed a cigarette from the desk and allowed her nephew to light it for her. She was a classy broad, like an old school movie star you couldn’t ignore even if you wanted to; your eyes just instinctively followed her. And she could smoke the hell out of a cigarette.

“The way I see it, kid, you’ve got three options.”

Sam listened closely as he tossed piles of cash back into a bag. It was just under $117,000. He’d burn it all and then have to come up with almost $73,000 to get Quinton and Casey their cuts, not to mention another $36,000 for Gerry. Again, expensive.

“You can keep doing what you’re doing and keep burning through your own cash. It’s working, and if we’re careful, it’s likely to continue to succeed. That’s if your little partners can keep their shit together, but I think that’s a big if. That’s option one.”

“Okay…”

“Option two is you can start treating this little venture like the burgeoning criminal enterprise it is. Stop paying your crew with your own cash and start getting this shit washed professionally. For real. No burning, no switching it out, or asking Bernard for more. You take it to a professional and they wash it for you. I know people who can do it quick. It won’t be cheap, but it’ll get done. And I know you worry about expanding this mission beyond just the two of us, but I vouch for my people, so you know you can trust them.”

Sam nodded as Gerry continued.

“Option three, probably my favorite option if I’m honest, is you walk away.”

The weight of what she said struck Sam in the chest.

“You let what you’ve done stand for itself, and you let this revenge fantasy lie where it is. Saul has been embarrassed and his record now has a permanent black mark on it because of you, especially if this crew he’s chasing just disappears. You could walk away right now and feel good about what you’ve done. Most importantly, you wouldn’t have to worry about going to prison. I don’t want that for you, Sam. Not now, not ever.”

Sam looked thoughtfully at his aunt and watched the smoke float above her. What she said was making sense; he couldn’t deny that. How much of his dad’s money was he willing to burn to embarrass an old man in the twilight of his career? There was a limit, but he hadn’t allowed himself to consider what that limit was just yet. That felt like betrayal to Simon’s memory somehow. He’d pulled off three robberies without a hitch, even if this last one wasn’t as smooth as the first two. Had Saul suffered enough yet? It didn’t feel like he had, but what was enough? Sure, he’d been embarrassed some, but had he paid enough to make up for getting Simon killed? If not, what would that take? Sam pondered these questions as Gerry waited patiently for an answer. And then Sam thought of Simon’s lifeless body lying on some cold table in the basement of some police station. He thought of the dried blood soaked through his dad’s shirt and the look on his face as he lay there under the fluorescents. He thought of the pain he’d carried these last five years. Lastly, he thought of Saul celebrating that ridiculous King of New York award, a big smile on his face.

“I’m gonna need you to make some introductions,” he said as he tossed the heavy bag of cash in Gerry’s direction. “And we can start with this.”