A Clean Getaway(7)
Author:Bobby Mathews

    Eighty thousanddollars. That's what we got. It took us a long time to count it all,and then afterward, we just sort of sat at the kitchen table andlooked at one another. The stacks of money were separated intohundreds, fifties and twenties. Nothing smaller. It was more moneythan either Curtis or I had ever seen. We waited until after dark,then filled the money bags with sand and threw them into the EastRiver. My phone followed. I wiped the hard drive on my computer andtossed it too. I'd used three different proxies to hide my IP addressfrom Craigslist, but you can't be too careful.

    We spent twodays watching coverage of the “daring robbery” on the localnewscasts. The security guard was going to be all right – thepepper spray had hurt, but it wasn't lethal. Detective second gradeFrank Morrison fared a little worse. He'd had his big toe shot off bya robber. I snickered a little about that. The newscasters put up anot-very-good likeness of me on the screen. The day they did that, Iwent into the bathroom and shaved my head and mustache. And theamount of money we'd stolen kept growing with every news report.

    “They say it'sa hundred and twenty grand now,” Curtis told me the second day.“Are you sure we counted the money right?”

    “They just saythat so they can make some profit back from the insurance company,”I told him. That's when Curtis told me I had all the angles covered.I wish he had been right.

    By the thirdday, the talking heads on the TV had moved on to different stories.That worried me. The media might have moved on, but I was pretty surethe robbery was still a priority with the cops. With no newscoverage, I couldn't track what was going on.

    We wanted nolinks to the job at all. And there would have been none, if Curtishad done the smart thing. But like I said before, he was stupid. Hekept his cell phone – why, I don't know. He could have gotten a newone easy. But I saw him talking on it one afternoon, a few days afterthe robbery. I snatched it out of his hand.

    “He'll callyou back,” I said and snapped it closed. Curtis just gaped at me.

    “They cantrace these, dummy,” I said. “This is the phone you used to call911, right?”

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