The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) (17 page)

‘That was so easy that we decided to step it up,’ Farrell continued. ‘Armoured trucks, on their way to the city, running through
Long Island
on the I-495. Pay off someone on the inside to give you the rotas and personal info on the guards and hit them out there on the road, in the countryside, all alone. Pull up a road-block, take out the tyres, threaten their families, use their names to show you know who they are. All it takes is a bit of background work, planning and some balls and the stash is yours. Doesn’t matter how secure that truck is, you tell the guy inside you’ll kill his family if he doesn’t open up, you bet your ass he’ll open that door.’

Archer nodded.

‘So then we stepped it up again. We started hitting banks.’

‘In the city?’

He smiled and nodded.

‘Not around here.
Not
our own neighbourhood. But let me tell you, taking a bank, that shit’s harder. But it’s possible. Managers and tellers are ordered by their bosses to comply
with
any thieves’ demands, which gives us an edge. We know co-operation will happen. Make sure we’re tooled up, disguised, get the bank when the lock on the vault is off, avoid the dye packs and bait money, take the security tapes and we’re home free.’

‘What about the getaway car? Surely you have to ditch it? That’ll leave tracks?’

‘Once we get the money out and into a switch car, Tate takes the bent one over to JFK and parks it in the long-stay parking spots. Right now, there are eight of them in there, all over the lot, amongst all the other vehicles. No one’s gonna find them for months, and there’s no DNA inside that could lead back to us. We make sure of it.’

Archer nodded.

‘How do you clean the money
? Surely it’s still traceable?’

‘Once he ditches the car, Tate meets back up with us then does a trip down to
Atlantic City
with the stash. He stays there for a couple days, trades the money for chips in the different casinos, plays the table for peanuts, then cashes out. Untraceable. The feds and cops figure the money will reappear somewhere and they can trace it back to us. But if they try to track any of the bait money, they’ll end up tailing some fat housewife from
New Jersey
or some asshole with a gambling problem living in a motel on the A.C water-front.’

Archer nodded.

‘Clever. So how many
jobs have you pulled in total?’

‘Thirteen. Four houses, five trucks, four banks. We’ve made almost five million.’

‘I’m impressed.’

Farrell nodded.

‘But we’re running out of time,’ he said. ‘There’s a shitload of heat coming in from the FBI. They’ve taken us all in, trying to work us over, find a weak link, something they can use. The lead agent is a guy called Gerrard. He’s a real asshole. Sooner or later, they’ll be waiting for us or he’ll find something to pin on me.’

Archer glanced up at Ortiz, who was still staring down at him, her face expressionless. He pictured her striking the pads upstairs, and shifted his gaze back to Farrell.

‘So why not cut your losses? Get out while yo
u’re still ahead,’ Archer said.

‘That’s exactly what we’re doing,’ Farrell said. ‘Come Sunday night, we’re leaving this city forever and never coming back.’

He paused.

‘But we’ve got a big weekend coming up first. This one will go down in the record books. It’ll be legendary. Saturday is fight night at the Garden. There’s some big concert going on the night before. We’re gonna take the joint just before the fight and clean the place out.’

‘The Garden? As in
Madison
Square
Garden
?’

‘The very same.’

Pause.

‘And you know what Sunday is?’ Farrell added.

Archer shrugged. ‘What?’

‘End of the first week’s play at the U.S Open. The tennis tournament, over in Flushing Meadows on the other side of
Queens
. At 7 pm, an armoured truck is headed for
Long Island
with the takings from the first week’s play. Millions and millions of dollars. And we’re going to be waiting for them.’

Archer look
ed at him, genuinely surprised.

‘Are you serious? Two jobs in two days?’

‘Dead serious. The moment after we hit the truck, we’re out of here. We’ll head down to A.C, clean the cash, then we’re going straight to
Florida
. Get a private jet off-radar to the Dominican, then leapfrog our way all the way to
Mexico
. Spend the rest of our lives sipping cocktails, living the dream on a beach somewhere, far away from here and the FBI.’

He paused, seeing the look on Archer’s face.

‘You think it can’t be done?’

‘It sounds like a good plan. I hate to be a downer but these aren’t just liquor store hold
-
ups or house burglaries. You know how many cops are going to be down there at the Garden?’

‘Thirty five. But that works in our favour. We’ll go in as cops. We’ll blend right in.’

‘After you hit the tennis truck, you can’t just drive away. The NYPD and feds will put up roadblocks. They’ll comb the entire State looking for you.’

‘We won’t drive. We’ll fly. We’ve got a helicopter at
Flushing
Airport
, hidden in one of the old hangars. We bought it with some of our stolen cash, and Bill’s taken lessons on how to fly it. The place is deserted. No one ever goes in there. We’ll take that down to AC and over any roadblocks, high up in the sky, undetected, right over their heads.’

Archer looked at him, then Ortiz, who sipped her water, looking into his eyes.

‘Check these out,’ Farrell said, indicating to the blueprints on the table. Archer pulled his gaze from Ortiz, and looked at the sheets on the table-top. Each page was a layout of the lower levels of
Madison
Square
Garden
. The background was blue, everything on top white, and they were extensively detailed, showing every room, every area. He saw the two changing rooms, the trophy room, corpo
rate areas, concessions stands.

‘Where the hell did you get these?’

‘Public Library.’

Archer looked up at him. ‘You’re kidding?’

Farrell shook his head.

‘
New York
Public Library. Withdrawn under a false name so they won’t lead back to us. These are the latest prints too. They were drawn up three months ago.’

Archer looked at the maps. They were forensically detailed and precise, showing every nook and cranny, every side room, every exit.

‘The biggest fight of the year,’ Farrell continued. ‘Not in Vegas. Here. The
Mecca
of boxing. 20,000 seats, and not a single one of them empty. It’s going to be so busy down there that it’ll work perfectly in our favour. Like I said, we’re going in as cops, blending into the crowd. The plan is me, Carmen and Regan go-’

‘What about Tate?’ Archer interrupted.

‘He’ll be down in AC cleaning the cash we’ve got piled up. You saw the boxes upstairs?’

Archer nodded.

‘Let’s just say not all of them are filled with t-shirts. All that money is backing up and we need to get that shit out of here. Tate’ll do it and get back on Sunday for the tennis truck.’

He pointed to the highes
t blueprint on the table.

‘Anyway, me, Carmen and Regan will go in. You’ll be parked on the kerb on
33
rd
Street
, facing east in a cop car, in uniform,’ he continued. ‘Carmen and Bill will come out first. They’ll load the first batch. They’ll come back and help me with the second load. We take the holdings, throw in the bags, then walk straight out. You get us over the water, we switch the car and get away clean and lay low.’

‘Alibis?’

‘Bought and paid for. We’re all going to be at a fight in
East Rutherford
. At least ten people saw all of us there. Tate’ll make himself visible in the casinos in AC that night, so his story will check out.’

‘You can’t just walk into the place and take the cash. What’s your plan when you get inside?’

‘Never mind about that. You just worry about getting us out of there.’

Archer thought for a moment.

‘And what about the
Flushing
job?’ he asked.

Farrell shoo
k his head.

‘Don’t worry about that either. We need you
for the Garden, and that’s it.’

Pause.

‘So are you in?’ Farrell said. ‘If you do this, you can either disappear or head straight back to the
U.K.
You can get your money out through an off-shore bank account, or stay in the country and spend it all. I don’t care.’

‘What’s my cut?’

‘Fifty thousand.’

Archer looked at him. ‘That’s it? Two jobs, and that’s my cut?’

‘I need you for one job. Take it or leave it. I recommend you take it.’ Archer looked at him. Then at Ortiz, whose face hadn’t softened an inch, glaring
down at him. ‘We need you pal.’

Archer paused a suitably long time, seemingly making up his mind.

‘OK. I’m in.’

Farrell nodded.

‘Good.’

He rose.

‘You got a phone?’ he asked.

Archer nodded a
nd gave him the number.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Farrell said. Archer got the message. The meeting was over. Without a word,
he rose and moved to the door.

‘One more thing. I meant what I said,’ Farrell said from behind him. ‘You say a word to anyone about this, I’ll kill you myself. You’ll join that asshole Brown and that fed from D.C who got his head blown off.’

Archer kept sta
ring at the door.

He didn’t turn.

It would show the expression on his face.

‘You got it.’

Then he turned and
twisting the handle
,
walked out of the room.

‘It’s a double job,’ Archer told Gerrard, as they sat in the back of a white van nine hours later. Each man was munching on a foil-wrapped burrito Gerrard had picked up on the way. They were parked in
Union Square
, and the time was just past 7:30 pm, still Wednesday 31
st
, the last day of August. The heat was clammy and Mexican food probably wasn’t the best choice considering the temperature, but Gerrard had set up a fan in the back of the van and it was keeping them both cool.

‘A double job?’ Gerrard asked.

He bit down into his food, and some guacamole squirted out of the side of the foil and hit him on the sho
ulder of his black suit jacket.

‘Oh shit.’

Archer passed him a napkin and he wiped the green splodge off his shoulder. It left a stain, however, and Gerrard shook his head and cursed.

‘Goddammit, this is my best suit. Anyway, keep going.’

‘It’s two jobs. The stash-rooms at MSG and the tennis truck in
Flushing
. The plan is to hit the Garden just before the fight starts. The whole place will be packed and distracted, the takings at the concessions from the night before will be loaded up in the rooms. They’re planning to clean the place out, in-and-out in a couple of minutes. I think they’ve paid someone off to give them access to the lower levels, then they’re going to go in armed in the stash-room and tie and gag everyone inside.’

‘Jesus Christ, they’re getting cocky,’ Gerrard said. ‘And stupid. There’ll be a shitload of cops down there.’

Archer shook his head.

‘Cocky maybe, but not stupid. They’re going for an all-time record. Three jobs in one week, then they’re going to leave the city forever. Farrell knows your team is trying to take them down. He called you a real asshole.’

‘T
rust me, the feeling’s mutual.’

‘He said it’s just matter of time before you manage to pin something on him so he’s bailing out. After the two jobs, they’re going straight to
Atlantic City
on Sunday, then
Florida
, and then to the Dominican by private jet. They’re headed for
Mexico
eventually. Trying to steal enough money in one week to live on for the rest of their lives.’

Gerrard nodded, taking another bite f
rom his food.

‘What about the
Flushing
job?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Farrell wouldn’t tell me much about it, save that there’s some kind of armoured truck they’re going after. They’ll try to hit it before it gets to its destination, either on the I-495 or even in
Flushing
Corona
Park
itself. Their transport is hidden at
Flushing
Airport
, so they won’t have to go far.’