Free The Man With the Getaway Face by Richard Stark Page B

top and bottom, front and back of the box."
    "I'm not sure the wiring's there any more."
    "It won't take much to wire. You don't have to be neat about it."
    "Well, I'll see what I can do." The florid man looked at the list, studying it. "I do believe I can take care of all this for you, and still only ask the original price of eight hundred."
    "We'll see what kind of a job you do."
    "Don't you worry, my friend," the florid man said. "I'll take care of you right. You just leave everything to me."
    "One more thing."
    The florid man look up, frowning.
    "I saw Alabama plates on her. Are they hot?"
    "Not where you're going, way up in New Jersey."
    "What about when I drive through North Carolina?"
    "I tell you what I'll do. I'll smear some mud on 'em, so you can't tell the difference." He took the cigar out of his mouth at last. "You know, safe plates are expensive. I got some, safe as a mother's arms, but I just wouldn't let them get tossed in on this deal. Safe plates aren't that easy to come by."
    "All right. Smear mud on them."
    "That's just what I'll do." He tore the top sheet off the order-blank pad. "Now, when do you want to take her? Tomorrow morning?"
    "Tonight."
    "Oh, you want a rush job."
    "I want her tonight," Parker said. "And don't give me a lot of crap about that being extra."
    "Why, I had no intention. I tell you what, friend, you come back here at midnight – that's two hours from now or a little less – and she'll be ready."
    "That's good," Parker said.
    He left the office. A block away he found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and spent some time over a cup of coffee. Then he walked around a while, looking at the town, glad he was going to be leaving it that night. At midnight he walked back to the Double Ace Garage.
    The truck was out on the side again, but in a different spot, closer to the floodlight. Parker went over and looked at it. There were new spark plugs, the joints had been lubed, the breather hole was capped, and lights had been haphazardly attached to the trailer. Friction tape had been wrapped tightly around the radiator hoses and mud had been smeared on the Alabama plates. And the stain on the ground under the cab came from cleaner oil.
    Parker swung up into the cab and turned the key in the ignition. She started sluggishly, but she started. The engine roared, and the cab trembled. There was either no muffler or it was riddled with holes.
    Parker saw the florid man coming towards him across the gravel. He had a new cigar now, lit. He stopped beside the cab and shouted up over the roar of the engine, "How do you like her?"
    "Get in," Parker shouted back. "Let's go around the block."
    The florid man hesitated. "Hold on just a second."
    He went back towards the office. When he came back, he had a jacket on, with a bulging right-hand pocket. He climbed into the cab, and Parker fought into second.
    The mirror on the left was cracked, and the mirror on the right was gone. Using just the one on the left, Parker backed till he was facing the driveway to the street, and then drove out. The trailer was long and high. Because it was empty, and because of the bad way it was attached to the cab, it tracked badly as Parker made the wide turn on to the street.
    The brakes were better than Parker had expected, though he had to pump them up a little each time. But the acceleration was lousy and the cab seemed ready to shake itself apart any second. They went around the block, having trouble on all the turns because of the way the trailer tracked, and when they got to the garage again Parker left the truck in the street. "All right," he said. "Eight hundred."
    "She's old," the florid man answered, petting the grimy dashboard, "but she's rugged. She'll get you there."
    "Lawson's already got his piece," Parker said, "so you get seven-twenty." He had it ready, in an envelope in his coat pocket.
    He handed it over, and the florid man counted the money, slowly, his lips moving as his blunt lingers shuffled the bills.