Comeback

angles of what was going on outside. The half-million-dollar robbery at the arena—whether the exaggeration was Archibald's, the cops', or the television people's, was hard to guess—was the biggest event in this town since the last Rolling Stones farewell tour.

Around nine o'clock, Mackey moved the curtain slightly at the corner of the living room window, looked out, and said, 'Parker, they're gonna still be here tomorrow morning.'

The idea was, Brenda was expected at six in the morning. She'd drive by in a station wagon they'd promoted earlier, and if things seemed all right she'd come on into the parking area, they'd switch the goods, set the fuse on the bomb, and take off. (The only way to be sure they wouldn't leave incriminating evidence in the trailer was to blow it up.) But now Mackey, shaking his head as he looked out the window, said, 'When Brenda gets here, she's gonna have to check in with the cops.'

'They'll be gone,' Parker said. 'You're just getting antsy.'

'And that's the truth,' Mackey agreed, moving away from the window, sitting down again. 'I never lived inside a tin can before,' he explained. 'Now I know how minestrone feels.'

'How does Tom Carmody feel,' Liss said tensely, 'that's all I want to know.'

Parker said, 'He's got a concussion. He'll come out of it tomorrow groggy. They won't lean on him very hard, not right away. By the time they're really looking him over, he won't be nervous any more.'

'Tom,' Liss said, 'will always be nervous.'

Parker shrugged. 'So will you, I guess.'

Mackey leaned back, fingers laced behind his head, aggressive grin on his face. 'Snowbound with my pals,' he said. 'Everybody getting along. No problems. From here on in, everything's gravy.'

7

A flat metallic click woke Parker. He opened his eyes and in the darkness saw the dull glint of the shotgun barrels a foot from his face. Beyond them, Liss's eyes stood out, the whites luminous, as though lit from within.

Making a hoarse scared rale in his throat, Liss pulled the second trigger, and that click sounded again as Parker kicked him in the chest. Liss bounced backward into the wall, and Parker's left hand went up and closed around the barrels, yanking the shotgun away. Grasping the barrels with both hands, he surged up from the sofa and lunged the shotgun forward, the butt smashing into Liss's face.

'Hey! What the hell?' Mackey came boiling up from the other sofa, getting in Parker's way, the two of them stumbling around in the cramped space as Liss fell to the floor, then crawled quickly through the doorway into the other room.

'It's Liss,' Parker said, pushing Mackey away. 'Wanting it all.'

'Son of a bitch.'

Parker went to one knee, felt under the sofa cushion, came out with just one of the shells. Getting to his feet, he broke the shotgun as he went through the doorway. The exit door stood open. Thumbing in the shell, slapping the shotgun shut, Parker crossed to see Liss out there, hesitating over the three duffel bags.

They'd each crammed their third of the take into one of the bags, and Liss had moved all three outside before turning to rid himself of his partners: one barrel into Parker, then quickly one into Mackey, all of them together in the narrow room. If Parker hadn't quietly emptied the three shotguns earlier tonight, one time when he had gone to the john and the other two were watching television, he and Mackey would be dead.

Liss had thought he might grab one or more of the bags anyway, on his way out, but when he saw Parker in the doorway he gave that up and just ran. Parker jumped down to the asphalt and watched Liss dash across the parking area, bent low and weaving as he went. Parker stood where he was, shotgun in both hands, not pointing anywhere in particular.

Mackey leaped down beside him, empty hands closed into fists. 'Shoot the cocksucker! What's the matter with you?'

'No need,' Parker said. 'And a noise could draw a crowd.'

Furious, Mackey said, 'Don't leave him alive, God damn it.' He acted as though he wanted to pull the shotgun out of Parker's hands, and was restraining himself with difficulty.

Liss was out of sight now. The police had finished clearing out of here a little after ten, and the three in the trailer had gone to sleep around midnight, three hours ago, Liss on the sofa in the office, with the money and the guns. He could have just taken the money and left, but he hadn't wanted Parker and Mackey behind him the rest of his life.

Apparently, Mackey returned the feeling. 'Parker,' he said, 'that was a mistake. We could have afforded a little noise, not to have him around any more.'

Parker never saw any point in arguing over past events. He said, 'Can you call Brenda?'

'Yeah, you're right,' Mackey said. 'We can't stay here any more.' Peering away into the night where Liss had disappeared, he said, 'He'll need time to get guns and friends, but I'll bet you, Parker, he still thinks this money is his.'

8

Parker sat on the weedy ground, the chain link fence against his back, the reloaded shotgun on his lap. Out ahead of him, in the darkness, beyond the narrow strip of scrubland, the empty asphalt parking area stretched across to the big round bulk of the arena. Off to the right, its metal side picking up the glints of distant streetlights,