That’s How I Roll: A Novel

BOOK: That’s How I Roll: A Novel
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ALSO BY ANDREW VACHSS

THE BURKE SERIES

Flood

Strega

Blue Belle

Hard Candy

Blossom

Sacrifice

Down in the Zero

Footsteps of the Hawk

False Allegations

Safe House

Choice of Evil

Dead and Gone

Pain Management

Only Child

Down Here

Mask Market

Terminal

Another Life

 

OTHER NOVELS

Shella

The Getaway Man

Two Trains Running

Haiku The Weight

 

SHORT-STORY COLLECTIONS

Born Bad

Everybody Pays

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and places either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

Copyright © 2012 by Andrew Vachss
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pantheon
Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in
Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

 

Pantheon Books and colophon are registered
trademarks of Random House, Inc.

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Vachss, Andrew H.
That’s how I roll / Andrew Vachss.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-90713-4
1. Assassins—Fiction. 2. Death row inmates—Fiction.
3. Political corruption—Fiction.
4. Incest—Psychological aspects—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3572.A33T53 2011    813′.54—dc22    2011013503

 

www.pantheonbooks.com
Jacket photograph by Don Farrall/Getty Images
Jacket design by Christopher Brand

 

v3.1

 
Contents
 
 
 

my beloved brother Olaf

29 December 2010 @ 11:30 p.m
.

he chose the night to depart

bringing a new star to the sky

a warrior’s star, casting its own light

a guidepost to the path of righteousness

a warning to predators

and now the True North for all our tribe

my brother:

welcomed by Odin

waiting for us

    and always, always watching

 
 
 
 
 

My name is Esau Till.

What I’ve put down here isn’t some “Death Row Diary,” like the bloodsuckers wanted to pay me to write. Don’t look for a last-minute confession to crimes I was never caught for. Or for the apology some think I owe.

This is a bomb. The last one I’ll ever build. You’ll never even know it exists unless someone stumbles over the tripwire I left behind.

That will happen only if I am betrayed. I don’t expect that, but I still have to plan for it.

No bomb I made ever failed, which is why people paid me so much to build them. In my chosen line of work, you have to earn a reputation before you start earning real money.

My bombs were always custom-tailored to the job. Now, the only ingredients I have for building this last one are my own words. Those words should be more than enough, but they won’t ignite unless they are believed.

I know if I’m caught in one single lie people might well disbelieve my entire account … and they’d be entitled to do so. All it takes is a single clutch of termite eggs to bring down a whole house.

People say the truth can’t be killed. Maybe not. But from my own experience, I know it can be buried so deep it might as well never have existed at all.

Oh, you might get your ear close enough to the ground to hear it ticking. But no matter how close you listen, you’re still just hearing strange noises deep down in the dark.

Your eyes won’t help, either. The brighter the light you shine, the more the darkness thickens.

Only the most powerful explosive will light the way. So this bomb must be like the most carefully constructed house.

I know it must stand up to the most microscopic examination. And it must
stay
standing, no matter what attempts are made to defuse it.

For
this
house, each brick will be embedded in the cement of gospel truth. No flood will ever carry it away. No fire will ever incinerate it. And the most powerful wrecking ball would just bounce right off.

I never broke my word when I was alive. That’s the one thing I get to take with me, and I intend on doing just that. I’m building this house out of nothing but truth, and no more powerful explosive has ever been invented. Once revealed, it will be denied by some, and “explained” by others.

But it can’t be changed.

When that last button is pushed, the roof will fly off. Inside, just a few empty rooms.

And a map.

I’m marking that map with an “X” for each spot.

If you’re looking for buried treasure, don’t waste your time. But if you dig deep enough, if you
keep
digging, you will find that pure truth I promised. It’s all there.

Whether that truth frees you or destroys you no longer matters to me.

I’m done.

e and Tory-boy, neither of us came out right. I was born with this spine thing. I’m past forty years old, and I’ve never once stood on my own feet.

Tory came along about eight years after me. He was a big, handsome baby. It took a while before you could tell he carried the same curse I did.

I’ve been protecting Tory-boy all his life. I won’t stop doing that just because the State is getting ready to end mine.

Nobody expects anything less from me. They have confidence that I’ll come up with some way to keep right on protecting my little brother.

People who truly know me, they know I’ll find a way. It took a lot of time and a lot of lives, but I finally forced that knowledge upon them—etched it too deep into their minds for them to ever believe otherwise.

f you’re reading this, you’ll come to know my life.

Not the fairy story I told on TV, or in court. You’ll know what parts I left out of those stories.

By that, I don’t mean the crimes I never spoke of, or how I got them done. What good would it do if I explained how I could make our satellite dish throw out a plasma-cutter beam? People already know enough ways to kill other people. They seem to be getting better at it. The whole human race, I mean.

So, when you come across certain people’s names in here, keep
in mind that I am breaking no vows. Yes, I know I’m building a graveyard. But I’m really only marking the tombstones—those who betrayed me put themselves beneath them.

I don’t feel any guilt. When it comes to such things, I don’t feel much of anything. And what I
do
feel is no more complicated than this: I know the difference between the best possible result and the best result possible.

The best possible result would be for everyone to keep their word. Then my Tory-boy would still be protected, even long after I’m gone.

But if certain people break their word—and you’ll not be reading this if they haven’t done so—all that’s left is the best result possible.

Revenge.

never trusted a word out of a government man’s mouth from the time I was old enough to understand how they were to blame for everything that had happened to all of us.

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