Lostport

Chapter 15

They met at the sheriff’s house at four-thirty that morning: Ben, Tom, Frank, Bobby, Jackie and Saul, all sitting at the dining room table. Six lost souls who had wanted to stay lost but were now gathered under a bright overhead light. Des McNaughton had a map of Eastport spread out on the table. Holding down each of the four corners were chrome and black pistols

“Para-Ordnance automatics,” McNaughton said. “Canadian made, eighteen shots.”

“I was told you weren’t allowed more than ten in New York,” Ben said.

McNaughton just glared at him. “The beauty of these is they were taken out of the factory before they had the serial numbers stamped. So if one of you fucks up and has to ditch one, you ditch it. No worries about it coming back to bite you. Or me.”

Ben reached for one but McNaughton stopped him. “Not yet, ” he said. “Anyway, there’s no bullets in them, in case you had any ideas.”

“Just wanted to check the trigger weight,” Ben said.

“You’ll get your chance,” McNaughton said. “Now shut up and let me tell you all what’s going to happen.”

McNaughton circled a point on the map with a red pen, a road that ran parallel to the canal on the south side. “This is Old Quarry Road. The truck in question is going to leave this spot here in exactly one hour. It’s going to go east to the Albion Road bridge, which is one lane wide. McBride and Jackson will be in one car on the south side. Vitale and Patton will be in another on the north. You get the guns and the balaclavas. Glassman and Diamond will be the trackers, parked up on Birdsall Hill. Soon as they spot the truck, they radio you guys and you do your thing.”

“Our thing,” Ben said.

“Your hijack thing. Your specialty. You take the driver out and you take the wheel.”

“How many gears?” Ben asked.

“How many—Sweet Jesus Christ, are you not the pro here? However many gears it has. What’d you do in Tampa, hijack family sedans?”

“I like to be prepared.”

“Then prepare to take over the goddamn truck.”

“What about the driver?” Frank asked.

“What about him?”

“When you say take him out, you mean out out, or just, you know, out of commission.”

“Depends on whether he resists.”

“And there’s only gonna be one guy.”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Armed?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“What are we going to be driving?” Ben asked. “Some of those Interceptors you got?”

“You’re funny, Ben,” McNaughton said without a trace of a smile. “No, we have cars for you parked out back. Stolen, switched plates on them. Questions?”

Bobby asked, “S’in the truck that got this sheriff so fired up?”

“S’in the truck?” McNaughton said. “S’none of your fucking business. You’ll find out when we open it.”

“And when will that be?” Ben asked. “Better yet, where?”

“Once you have the truck, you take North Canal Road exactly 4.1 miles west from the bridge and turn right. Three-tenths of a mile after that, you turn left onto a road that goes past the ruins of an old pulp and paper mill. There’s still the west wall standing. You park behind there and wait.”