Dave Zeltserman - Outsourced

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re lying to me again.”

A numbness had set into Dan’s forehead, almost as if ice had been pushed into his skull. “Why’d you waste my time having me drive here?” he asked, his words sounding hollow in his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me over the phone that you don’t want to do this?”

“Who said anything like that?” Joel hesitated as he pulled at his bottom lip, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m just being honest with myself, that’s all. Something you should try. I don’t look at this as my only way out. But I got to tell you, I’m sick of writing software. And there are certain things about your plan that appeal to me.”

“So you’re telling me you’re in?”

“Maybe. I got conditions. Number one, my buddy Eric Hoffer be included.”

“Eric Hoffer?”

“You met him at my second wedding.”

Dan had a vague recollection of a mostly bald stocky man with small pig-like eyes. “That’s your friend who got arrested,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s right. He got screwed in a setup. Did four months for a bullshit charge.”

“Something about attempted rape?”

“No, nothing like that.” Joel showed a thin smile as he shook his head. “Lewd and lascivious behavior. The idiot had a hooker in his car. He had already unzipped when the hooker spots a police cruiser pulling up alongside them and tries to save her own butt by yelling rape. That little incident cost Eric his wife, family and job, not to mention his time in county lockup. He’s been out three years since then and still hasn’t bounced back. He needs this.”

“Sorry, Joel, but we don’t need five people for this robbery.”

“Says who?”

“I already worked out the details-”

“Yeah, you’re an expert all of a sudden in robbing banks? You’ve got Gordon and your Indian buddy along, huh? Fuck that. If I’m doing this, I’m doing this with someone I can trust. Someone I know who’ll back me up.”

“Your friend, Eric, he’s been arrested. They’ve got his fingerprints on record.”

“So? We’ll be wearing gloves, won’t we? And your plan has us in disguise, right?”

Dan started massaging his forehead, trying to rub the numbness out. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, guess what, I don’t like having that loon Gordon involved, but I’m willing to trust you that you can control him for ten minutes. Besides, my guns can be traced, Eric’s can’t. We need him. This is non-negotiable. So what’s it going to be? Are we doing this or are we calling it quits right now?”

Dan found himself asking why having untraceable guns mattered, even though it was obvious to him. In case a gun was left at the robbery, which could happen if one of them were shot. Or other ways too. Joel just stared at him as if he were an idiot.

“Why do you think?” Joel finally said.

Dan nodded. He didn’t bother asking why they couldn’t just file the serial numbers off the guns, since that answer was obvious also. In case Joel ever had to account for the guns that he had registered. “All right, fine,” he said. “Your friend Eric is in. Have you talked to him yet?”

“Not yet, but he’ll want to do this.”

“Hold off until I talk to Gordon.”

“When’s that going to be?”

“This afternoon.”

“Okay, but don’t call me at home. And don’t call my cell phone. I’ll call you later from a payphone. Any communication – you, me, anyone else involved in this – will be through anonymous email accounts. I don’t want there being any phone records over the next week connecting us.”

“Going a little overboard, aren’t we?”

“No. Fuck no. This is a deal breaker too.”

Dan shrugged. “Fine. Anyway, it makes sense. No reason not to be as careful as we can. I’ll set up an account later today. Try calling me tonight from a payphone and I’ll have an email address ready for you.”

“What do you know?” Joel smiled and punched Dan in the shoulder. “We’re going to do this, huh?”

“We’ll see what Gordon says.”

Joel made a face. “I still don’t like you dragging that clown into this. Working with him for eleven years at Vixox was more than enough for me.” Joel took a deep breath, shrugging. “But I have to admit, you did put together a brilliant fucking plan. I spent all night last night trying to poke a hole in it, and couldn’t.”

“Thanks.” Dan glanced at his dashboard clock and started feeling antsy. He had two hours before he was supposed to meet with Gordon and he still wanted to stop off at home so he could shower and clean up. “Are we done now?”

“Yeah, for now. Assuming we’re still on, I want all of us to meet at my place tomorrow to go over the details. Plan on noon.”

Dan nodded as the two of them shook hands.

As Joel was getting out of the car, he looked back and showed a reflective smile. “You realize if we go ahead with this, that’s it as far as the two of us are concerned. Afterwards, no more ’gammon, no more meeting for beers. We’ll be dead to one another.”

Dan started laughing. “No problem there, Joel. Whether we rob this bank or not, I don’t plan on seeing much of you in the future anyway.”

Joel froze for a moment. Slowly a sneer twisted his lips. “Same here, pal,” he said.

Detective Alex Resnick took the call that the owner of the Kiev Market had been beat unconscious and the store ransacked. His partner, Walt Maguire, was oblivious, his feet up on his desk as he talked over the phone with his girlfriend. Resnick tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a signal that they had to go. Maguire nodded, made several attempts to end the conversation gracefully, then muttered, “I’ll call you later,” as he hung up the receiver.

“What’s the story?” he asked.

“Owner of that Russian grocery store on State Street got beat up.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Resnick drove. He was a sixteen-year veteran of the Lynn police force and a detective for seven. His partner, Maguire, was just a kid of twenty-eight and had only made detective a month earlier. As far as Resnick was concerned, Maguire still had baby fat. With the siren on they got to the grocery store in seven minutes. Three police cruisers and an ambulance were already there. About a dozen people crowded the sidewalk trying to get a look inside the store. As Resnick pulled up behind one of the cruisers, he could see the store’s front window had been smashed and a cash register lay among the broken glass on the sidewalk.

Maguire left the car and walked over to the cash register. He put gloves on, let out a few breaths and then lifted the register to his waist before lowering it back to the sidewalk.

“This mother’s heavy,” he told Resnick. “Must be some antique lined with lead or something. Got to be at least eighty pounds.” There were four patrolmen standing outside the store looking bored. Maguire turned to the closest one. “You want to help me bring this back inside?”

The cop made a face. “If I want to go on disability, maybe. Thanks, but I’ll throw my back out moving my own furniture.”

Resnick walked over to the same cop. “What can you tell me?” he asked.

“The owner was knocked unconscious. Paramedics are inside with him now. It looks like he’ll be okay. Whoever did this smashed up the place pretty good.”

“Any witnesses?”

The cop shook his head. “The wife was there. She claims he tripped and hit his head.”

“Okay, stay where you are and keep the public out.” Resnick turned to the other patrolmen. “Why don’t you guys check the crowd, then the stores nearby. See if anyone’s willing to talk to us.”