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Almost -- not entirely -- everything had gone exactly according to plan. That was ever the hallmark of anything he did: planning -- careful, thorough, thoughtful, calm attention to the smallest detail with consideration always given to any possibility of something going awry. Previously, nothing ever had; this time, however . . . As he worked his lips tightened at the memory of this night, the wholly unforeseen arrival of the old man who changed everything in an instant. Never before had he been confronted with the smallest hitch in one of his operations, but this time more than made up for all other times. This time he had a choice of dropping everything where it lay and running at once, only to be caught eventually and have nothing to show for all his efforts, or stopping the guard from ever identifying him to the authorities. As it happened, there was no choice. He was young, strong as a bull, and the guard was an old man; but before he could lay a hand on him, the guard dropped like a stone, dead before he hit the floor. Still, even though he knew that whether or not he physically killed him, the death resulted from his presence. It would be considered. Now, working as quickly as he could without being careless in the performance, his practiced motions with brick, mortar, and trowel continued without his mind needing to concentrate on them. There was enough to occupy his thoughts, and he needed to finish polishing his revised plans as much as the wall had to be finished. One, he would surely be caught. Only a foolish person might delude himself that since he'd never been convicted, he wouldn't be caught this time. This time was different -- this time death accompanied the operation. The man was not a fool, so he premised his immediate future plans on being a resident of the state for some time to come. Two, that meant he had to make provisions against the time when he actually did manage to walk the streets a free man once again. That, too, he never doubted. He would never tell anyone where the money was, and he'd surely have time added to his sentence for that lack of cooperation with the authorities. But he would be a model prisoner and, sooner or later, he would be released. As he finished he rocked back on his heels while turning up the wick on the kerosene lantern whose light had illuminated the work he'd done for the last four straight hours. The money was wrapped in an oilskin pouch, that in turn placed in a cheap suitcase, and then the grip -- as had been the packets of money themselves -- was wrapped in oilskin. A rough gunnysack covered it all, the whole pack was buried deep in the recesses behind this wall just completed -- just completed again. Only the day before, helping an old friend -- one who knew nothing of his darker side -- with some renovation on his building, he'd already built the brick wall once; it had been easy enough to break out a hole in it again so soon after it had been finished, crawl into the dark hole while dragging his sack, and bury it in the farthest corner. Then it was only a matter of retracing his path, of reconstructing the wall, it not even being necessary to clean up the floor in front of it since the dirt and construction debris was still present from the earlier work. His careful eye went over the wall in the increased yellow light, and he knew that it was good. Now he would take care of a few important details, and then simply wait until they found him, far from here, as he knew they would in time. He doused the lantern. As he was returning to his room some three days later, he saw -- well, he actually saw nothing, but somehow he sensed it. Not a neighbor was in sight, no children playing stickball, and even some of the cars on the street looked different somehow. He was almost relieved that the waiting was over. Climbing the steps to the front door of his building, he noted as well how unusually quiet everything was. He smiled crookedly as he shifted the sack of groceries to his left arm, placed his key in the lock of his first floor rear apartment, and they were waiting for him. |