2
FRIDAY | 11:46 P.M.
He
took the ramp onto Interstate-35 toward Waco. It would put him in San Antonio
in four and a half hours, which was what he had planned all along. The rare red
1967 Aston Martin DB6 Volante hummed along as if it had hardly been driven and
there was not a scratch on it or the black leather interior. Smiling, he
settled into the driver seat as the cool night wind blew through his hair in
the open convertible. The radio was up and tuned to a local classic rock
station. Traffic was very light and he did not anticipate any until Austin where
construction could slow him down a little. Everything was coming together
nicely.
The car had been picked up at Ray
Vivano’s Vintage Cars earlier in the day and would be delivered to the client
as expected just like he promised his boss. He was not exactly happy that his
boss had chosen him to do the job, but everything had worked out in the end.
The call had come in yesterday from Adrianne’s Auction House in New York. As a
freelance deliverer of vintage cars, he was available but did not like the
hours. The client was a wealthy partial owner of the San Antonio Spurs and was having
a birthday on Saturday. He had found the Aston Martin through his agent and the
deal was struck with Ray. The plan was that the car was to be delivered no
matter what the cost or method. Cars of quality and expense were usually
transported in a special carrier, but the client was adamant about having it
sooner than later. There was no time to set up other transportation and so he
was driving it back to San Antonio. The rental car was included in the price. If
the client complained about the miles or extra cost, he was ready to tell them
where they could stick it.
Gripping the wheel tighter, his
anger flashed. He was tired of his boss and the antics of those in New York.
They expected him to jump every time they called and thought that they could
sweeten the deal with a few dollars here and there. He knew they were ripping
him off and they would just dismiss him if he complained. It was as if they
thought people in Texas were stupid, especially him. They would explain to him
that they had other guys lined up and that he was a dime a dozen in the big
pool of freelancers. Late night runs and questionable ethics were really
getting to him lately. They were making a ton of money and he was getting
peanuts. He was fed up.
Time
to quit this business for good and take what’s mine. Screw them all.
Little did his boss know that he was
about to be able to walk away from the business of vintage car sales for good.
With one heist already under his belt and one underway, he would soon never
have to work again for the rest of his life. The most recent girl he picked for
the job was working out nicely. She took a little more convincing than the
last, but came around after he explained the harsh alternatives. He figured
about now she was in the victim’s house convincing them that she was in shock
and needed their help. As it turned out, she had done some acting before
dropping out of college. His luck continued.
There was one more job to be completed
after this one and he knew he could not take his eye off the ball yet. There
was still much to be done. Events were already in motion and it was only a
matter of time at this point. The Eagles started playing on the radio and he sang
along to the classic tune. A calmness came over him despite the flashes in his
head of what had already gone wrong with the first job. His conscience told him
to let it go. The stars were aligning. He allowed himself to be happy for the
drive.