When Parker reached the open gate at the top of the ramp, Lindahl was just stuffing the second of the duffel bags into the SUV, filling up the storage area behind the backseat. Parker left him to it and loped away to the outer gate in the surrounding wall, which they had left closed but not locked. He stepped through the opening as back there at the clubhouse bright headlights angled upward at the sky from below ground, then leveled out as the Ford appeared. The headlights disappeared for Parker as he moved to his right along the wooden wall.
Lindahl had to stop to open the gate, and when he did, Parker stepped forward into the headlights, saying, “You got our money.”
Lindahl staggered. In grabbing the gate to try to brace himself, he made the gate swing instead, and nearly fell down. “Ed! For God’s sake!”
Lindahl was not carrying a gun, so Parker put his in his pocket as he came around the end of the gate and said, “Help me carry my duffel out of there.”
“Sure— You— He said you were dead.”
“He was wrong. Come on, Tom, let’s get this over with.”
Parker opened the rear cargo door and looked in at the two long mounds, like body bags. Lindahl came and stood beside him, looking in at the bags. “I did it,” he said, his voice quiet but proud. “I know, you and me together did it, but
“We’ll just put it on the ground outside,” Parker said, reaching for the top duffel, “beside the wall.”
“You don’t want me to see your car.”
“You don’t need to see my car. Come on, Tom.”
They put their arms around the end of the duffel and carried it around the car and through the gate and put it on the ground beside the wall. Looking down at it, Lindahl said, “Half the time, I was sure, if we ever got it, and I never thought we’d get it, but I was sure . . .” His voice trailed off, with a little vague hand gesture.
“You were sure I’d shoot you,” Parker said. “I know.”
“You could have, anytime.”
Parker said, “You brought me the job, you went in on the job with me, that’s yours.”
Lindahl giggled; a strange sound out here. “You mean,” he said, “like, honor among thieves?”
“No,” Parker said. “I mean a professional is a professional. Take off, Tom, and stay away from roadblocks. That car might be burned by now.”
“I’ll be okay,” Lindahl said. The giggle had opened some looseness inside him, some confidence, as though he’d suddenly had a drink. “So long,” he said, and got behind the wheel of the Ford. His window was open; he looked out and might have said something else, but Parker shook his head, so Lindahl simply put the Ford in gear and drove away from there.
Once Lindahl had made the turn onto the dirt road leading to the county road, Parker went over to bring the Infiniti up close to the duffel. By then, Lindahl was out of sight. Parker wondered how far he’d get.
