Man on the Run by Charles Salzberg

Author:Charles Salzberg [Salzberg, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

16

Francis

For the first time in more than a year I wake up with a bounce in my step. I feel more alive than I have in months. It’s like a giant boulder has been lifted not only from my shoulders but every other inch of my body. Fuck the bounce, man. I feel like I’m floating on air. No shit, it feels like the first day of a new life. And I know why.

Up till now, my only aim in life is to stay out of the grasp of John Law. Most of my time is spent covering my tracks while I create my new identity. But let’s face it, I miss the old one. I miss the adrenaline rush I get when I’m in the midst of a job. Researching it. Planning it. And then there’s the best part, the part that pumps blood through my body, blasts a heavy shot of adrenaline through my veins, heading straight for my brain, like I’m some kind of hopped-up junkie shooting H. And then there’s the ultimate high: Doing the job. Proving to the goddamn world again that there’s never been anyone like me. And then the final jolt: getting away with it.

The only thing left is to make a couple dry runs. I visit the scene three times and each time I snap a mental picture. I follow the three escape routes I’ve marked off, making sure I’m familiar with each one, as if I’ve used it dozens of times.

In the meantime, I make good use of my new wheels. I deactivate the GPS, which keeps a record of my movements, and drive through various neighborhoods adjacent to the strip mall. I spend hours driving around, trying my best to get lost, not hard in L.A. Then, using an old Thomas Guide I pick up at a used bookstore, I try to find myself. This helps to familiarize myself with the area and will come in handy in case someone might follow me.

By the time I finish my last rehearsal run, I’ve gone through an entire tank of gas. I find a parking spot about a half mile away from the cottage, then walk the rest of the way home. By now, it’s early evening and after dining on a couple fish tacos I pick up at the local Mex joint, all I can do is collapse on the bed, where I quickly fall asleep.

I don’t want to hold onto the car for more than a week or so, which is when the asshole owner will realize it’s never coming back. He’ll report it stolen, but by then I’ll have either torched it or run it off a cliff. Either way, that poor, dumb sucker will be shit out of luck.

Meanwhile, I wait for a callback from Alex and my other source. It’s only been a couple days, but I’m getting antsy. If I don’t get answers soon, I’ll abort and wait another week or two. This isn’t something I want to do.

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