Andrew H. Vachss - The Getaway Man

THE
GETAWAY MAN

VINTAGE CRIME / BLACK LIZARD

Vintage Books A Division of Random House, Inc. New York

I t was just after two in the afternoon when we pulled up. Tim said thats the time it was always slow in the bank, specially on Thursdays.

Virgil had a double-barreled sawed-off. Those are good for scaring people, Tim said. Much better than a pistol. Virgil carried the shotgun under his coat, against his chest, held there by a loop of rawhide around his neck. Tim had a pair of pistols, like he always used to carry.

Five minutes, Eddie, Tim said to me. Then him and Virgil went into the bank.

The clock on the dashboard was one of those digital ones. It said 2:09.

The clock said 2:12 when I heard the crack of a pistol. Then the boom of Virgils shotgun.

People started screaming.

for

Cammi, Jessie Lee, Johnny the Gambler, Detroit B., Bust-Out Victor, Iberus, J.R., Everett, Water Street, the East Gary Express, the Uptown Community Organization, a whole lot of back roads, and some wrong turns.

and for

Jim Procter, who drove the car.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Joe R. Lansdale

Its true, bro. We would have been kings.

THE
GETAWAY MAN

E very outfit needs a getaway man. It doesnt matter how smooth the job goes; if you dont get away with the money, it was all for nothing.

I learned that when I was just a kid, when I first started getting locked up. Once that happens the first time, its like thats your destiny. They let you out, but they know youre coming back, and you do, too.

Inside, some guys get tattoos, so that when they get out, other guys will know where theyve been. I never wanted one. I figured people can always tell, anyway.

Every time they sent me to the kiddie camps, it was for stealing cars. I never stole cars to keep; I just wanted to drive them. I wanted to learn how to do that more than anything. The only reason I took the cars was so I could practice.

When youre in one of those places for kids, guys always ask you what youre in for. The first time I went in, before I learned, I told them the truth.

I found out quick how dumb that was. When I told other guys, that first time, why I took the cars, they said that wasnt even stealing, it was just joyriding. Thats what a kid does with a car, joyriding. A man wouldnt do that.

It sounds weird, but the worst thing you can be in the kiddie camps is what they call a kid. The word means something different in there. Something very bad.

Right after I told the truth that first time, I had to fight a lot. So I wouldnt get taken for a kid.

By the next time I went in, I was smarter. I knew nobody would understand if I told them I took the cars so I could practice my driving. So, after that, when they asked me, I always said, Grand Theft Auto. I wasnt some little joyrider; I was a thief.

A thief steals cars to keep. To sell, I mean. The really good thieves, they get a reputation, and people hire them to steal certain cars. Like ordering food in a restaurant, and the parking lot is the menu.

Its good to be known as a thief when you go Inside. Its even better to be known as a killer, but only a certain kind. Like if you killed someone in a fight, that would be good. Or if someone paid you to do it.

Its pretty unusual, to be in one of the kiddie places for a killing like that, but I know one guy, Tyree, who was. A drug dealer paid Tyree to shoot someone, and he did it. Everyone respected him for doing that. It was something a big-time criminal would do.

But not every killing got you respect. The sick-in-the-head kids, they were nothings. Nobody was afraid of them. Like the one who chopped up his mother with an ax. Or the one who went to school with a rifle, and shot a bunch of other kids who were bullying him.

After that kid got locked up, he still got bullied, only much worse. The kind of bullying they do in here.

Sometimes, a killing happens right where they have us locked up. The one I most remember, it was a little kid who did it. Devon, his name was. A bigger kid, Rock, had done something to him.

After Rock did what he did, he told everyone that Devon was his kid.

Everybody knew what had happened, but nobody said anything, even the ones who werent scared of Rock.

After Devon got out of the infirmary, he got a shankthats a piece of metal you sharpen into a knife. One day, he came up behind Rock in the cafeteria and stabbed him in the neck. Everybody saw it.

We knew Devon had stuck him good, because they didnt send Rock to the infirmarythey called for an ambulance.

The guards charged in and locked us all down, so we couldnt see what happened after that. But, later, we heard that Rock died before the ambulance came.

If they had let Devon stay in there with us, he would have been all right after that. Nobody would have tried to do anything to him anymore, even with him being so little. But they took him away, to the prison for grownups.

I didnt actually know Devon. Just his name. But I hoped, wherever they sent him, he found another shank real quick.

I always wanted to be a driver. It was just something that called to me. Even when I was practicing to be good at it, I wasnt sure where it would end. But I knew I had to do it.

Where I come from, lots of guys dream about racing stock cars. But that was never my dream.

Dreams are for kids. And I never wanted to be a kid. Theres nothing good about being a kid.

I had faith. I knew if I kept practicing, if I got good enough, I could be the driver.

T he very first time the cops caught me, I was so little they thought someone else had took the car, then ran away and left me holding the bag. They kept trying to get me to tell who had done it.

I told them the truth; it was just me. One cop slapped me. It wasnt that hard, but it hurt. I didnt cry; I was used to stuff like that.

Another cop said I was being a chump, taking the weight for the older boys. He said they would all be laughing at me while I was in jail. But they didnt even send me to jail at all, that first time.

All cops lie. All thieves lie, too, when they talk to cops. Thats the way it is.

I knew that good thieves didnt lie to their partners. I wondered if cops did.

I dont remember much about the first time they locked me up, but I know it was only for a few weeks.

After that, they locked me up every time they caught me.

The first few times, it was because I didnt know how to drive. I know that sounds stupid, and I guess it was.

What I mean is, I didnt know how to drive like a regular person, so I kept bringing attention on myself. One time, I got pulled over for going through a stop sign. The cop didnt even know the car was stolen until he saw how old I was. Then he knew the car couldnt be mine.

Another time, I was just speeding, and they got me. That time, it wouldnt have mattered even if I had looked old enough to drive, because I didnt have any of the papers the cop wanted.

After a while, I figured out: If I was going to take cars, I had to drive them like I was a regular person, going somewhere.

But if I drove like that, I couldnt practice the way I needed to.

The longest they ever locked me up for was six months. Until the time I ran from the cops.