Thieves Get Rich, Saints Get Shot - By Jodi Compton Page 0,2
was baffling to both the English and Spanish speakers who surrounded us. More than that, it was highly economical, ideal for text messaging. You could say in three words of Latin things that would take six or seven in English.
Once Latin had been the language of my early-adolescent ambitions, of a cleaner, purer self. Now it had become a code between outlaws.
I heard the engine of an SUV start up, and Serena backed down the shoulder of the road to the truck, her headlights off, only the reverse lights visible. Normally Serena drove a Chevy Caprice, but the SUV was borrowed for tonight’s mission. Well, it was borrowed in that Serena had gotten it from one of the vatos in Trece, but I had no illusions that he hadn’t stolen it. We’d ditch it somewhere right after unloading our cargo.
I could easily have ridden with Serena in it, but my motorcycle was part of our escape plan. If things went wrong, she could jump on the back of my bike and we’d be gone. The SUV wasn’t much of a getaway car, V6 or not, but my bike was a different story. It was an Aprilia, built for speed. There wasn’t much on the road that could outrun it, including the average police-issue Crown Vic.
Once Serena and I had made the spike strip and I’d done reconnaissance on the truck routes and found a safe place to do this, the plan had fallen together with wonderful simplicity. Done right, it would take about five minutes. Serena would know exactly what she needed from the truck, what was resellable and what wasn’t. She had been robbing pharmacies back when I was still … well, back when I was still sincere.
After we’d pulled back the spike strip, it didn’t matter if a car came along before Serena was finished unloading. The delivery truck was safely off the road and the SUV parked well to the side of that, lights off, in the shadows. People drive past stalled vehicles all the time. Samaritans are rare.
The driver, lying in the ditch with his head turned to the side, said, “My older daughter’s in an Easter pageant on Sunday.”
“Be quiet,” I said.
What I wanted to say was, For God’s sake, I’m not a serial killer. You don’t have to flood me with biographical information so I’ll see you as a person. But I didn’t, because that was a little too lighthearted and reassuring. When vics get reassured, they get overconfident, and then they do stupid things. I didn’t want this guy fantasizing about getting some kind of special commendation from the company after thwarting a robbery, up in front of a whole auditorium full of applauding executives. That would be bad, because if this guy acted up, I knew I couldn’t shoot a union-card-carrying hourly employee whose daughter was going to be in an Easter pageant. But Serena, across the road, might.
Then my cell phone crackled again. “Ecce,” Serena’s voice said. Loosely translated, Heads up.
There was a second pair of headlights coming down the road. The same size, the same shape.
I’d done some scouting on this location, but my observations hadn’t indicated that the trucks ran on any sort of schedule. The plan tonight had been to simply wait until one came. I certainly hadn’t been expecting a second truck so soon.
I raised the radio: “Voles?” I asked Serena. You want to?
“Faciamus,” she said. Let’s do it.
I couldn’t leave the first driver unwatched to go get the second from Serena, so I added, switching to Spanish, “Cuando traigas el conductor aquí, seas tierna.” When you bring the driver over here, be gentle. I’d switched to Spanish because Serena’s Latin wasn’t very advanced yet, and I didn’t want there to be any confusion, not when people could get hurt.
“Claro,” she said, and her dark silhouette moved quickly and lightly across the highway to get the spike strip. She bent and sent it skating across the asphalt, and we were ready for the second truck’s approach.
Ten minutes later I heard Serena slam the cargo door of the SUV, finished with the loading. I waited for her to pull onto the highway before I spoke to the two drivers lying on the ground. “Count to a thousand before you get up,” I said. Serena had taken their keys. They’d be out here awhile. “I don’t want to see either of your heads prairie-dogging up into my line of sight before I’m out of here, okay?”