CHINATOWN
Matchstick weather. That’s what Nick had called it back in the day. When the wind shifted and hot dry air came in from the desert, sucking the water up out of everything, making it seem that the world begged to burn. It put Nate on edge.
They parked a half-block down the street from the bank. This was just observation. Nate wanted to do this one right. He’d gotten sloppy, let Polly’s wild enthusiasm spur on dumb choices. He had to do this one cold as hell. This would be enough cash to buy their freedom. Maybe even enough to get them to Perdido. By then Polly would have defrosted. She’d have to.
A street corner fruit vendor chopped mangoes and pineapples nearby. Nate had bought Polly a soda, a peace offering. She hadn’t accepted it. She ran the sweating can against her sweating forehead, but she didn’t open it. The cup holder held the .38, covered with a newspaper.
“You can turn on music if you want,” he said, then wished he hadn’t. He had to stop giving her everything.
“No,” she said. She breathed out against her window, her mouth an O. She fog-painted a circle on the window. She made eye dots with her thumb. She drew a straight line for the mouth.
Jesus, this kid.
This part of Chinatown wasn’t Chinese. It was artists and low-budget filmmakers taking advantage of the low rent. And in among them, looking like just another warehouse, was the bank, just the way Charlotte had described it.
Charlotte. Just the thought of her peeled a layer of civilization off him, coughed up memories that were all sensation and sound and smell.
“What’s going on?” Polly’s words brought Nate back to the now.
A beat-up pickup truck rolled to a stop in front of the house. The man behind the wheel had sunglasses and a splint over his busted nose. Three blue bolts on his arm. Under all the stuff the face looked familiar. Polly placed it before he did.
“It’s A-Rod,” Polly said. She slumped in her seat.
“Put on that ball cap,” Nate said. “Now.”
She reached for the Dodgers cap from the backseat and pulled it on. She checked herself in the sideview mirror. She stuffed stray red locks up under the hat.
“What’s he doing there?” she asked.
The men took down the door of the truck. From where they were parked, Nate could see into the truck bed. He saw a tarp. Plastic sheeting. Shovels. Big bags of something—Nate bet it was quicklime. A portable body-disposal kit.
“He’s taking somebody on a last ride,” he said.
The alley door of the bank opened. Two skinheads walked a kid out onto the street. The kid had oh shit eyes. He had dreadlocks. Nate knew him right away.
“It’s the other one,” Polly said. “Scubby. The one who helped us. What are they going to do to him?”
Nate let Polly work it out on her own. She was a smart girl. She figured it out.
“He’s going to kill him.”
“He should have run,” Nate said. “We gave him his chance.”
“We have to save him,” Polly said, stress fractures in her voice.
“No we don’t,” Nate said.
“No no no,” she said. “You can stop them. He’s going to die because of us. We made him help us and now he’s going to die for it. It’s not okay. You know it’s not okay.”
His hands ached. He was strangling the steering wheel.
“Daddy, you can’t let him die.”
“To keep you safe I can. I will.”
“I don’t want to be safe,” she said. “Not like this.”
“Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open.”
“I don’t want to—”
“Close your goddamn eyes, girl.”
She covered them with her hands. Nate watched it all.
Nate couldn’t read lips. You didn’t have to to get what Scubby was saying. He begged with his eyes. Nate promised he’d add Scubby to the list with Avis and Tom. Add his face to the ones he saw in the dark. The ones who had died because Nate kept on living. He promised the kid some kind of justice. The ghost of his brother laughed in his head. Nick always could sniff out bullshit.
He heard the shotgun door click open. He turned to see Polly already on the street. She ran toward the alley.
Goddamn that girl.
Nate knocked aside the newspaper, reached for the pistol hidden under it. His hand touched sweating aluminum. The pistol was in Polly’s hand. She’d left her unopened soda in its place.