with a bumpy scalp that made shaving it a chore.
'I've been joyriding since I was twelve.' He now worked at a local garage.
'Compisano is good if there's an electronic alarm, ' Kevin said.
Kevin was a redhead like Steve, but with his hair shaved it was hard to tell save for his freckled complexion. He was also the youngest of the group at sixteen although he was a big, husky kid. The others ranged up to twenty two. The oldest was Luke Berm.
'I'm mostly used to house alarms, not car alarms, ' Mike Compisano said.
In spite of his Italian name, Mike had been a towhead since birth.
His blond eyebrows were almost transparent, giving him an expression of perpetual surprise.
'At least you know something about alarms, ' Curt said. 'That could come in handy. So you and Clark will ride with me and Steve. The rest of you go in Nat's truck.' Of all the troops, Nat was the best off financially.
His brother was in the garbage business. He had a king cab pickup like Curt's with two rows of seats.
'Stew, you stay here, ' Curt said.
'The hell I will, ' Stew said. 'I'm going with the action.'
'That's an order! ' Curt snapped. 'You're tanked. I can tell you've had about five beers more than anyone else. I don't want this mission compromised.'
'Shit, man! ' Stew complained.
'No argument! ' Curt ordered. 'Let's move out.' While Stew Manson sulked, the others eagerly hustled out of the pool room. At the bar most bought beers for the road. Outside they tumbled into the respective vehicles.
'Stay behind me at a reasonable distance, ' Curt called to Nat before he started his truck. Nat gave him a thumbsup sign. The next moment Nat's truck erupted with the throbbing base of the group Brutal Attack.
Nat had a special speaker system with a woofer capable of loosening his lug bolts.
They moved in a convoy of two vehicles. Nat followed orders and stayed comfortably behind Curt.
Halfway out on Long Island they stopped at a service center so everyone could relieve themselves.
'We're almost out of beer, ' Nat said to Curt as he leaned into a urinal. 'Can we make a detour at the next town to stock up? '
'No more beer until the mission is over, ' Curt shot back.
The second part of the trip went considerably faster than the first as the traffic dropped off dramatically.
The congestion of the city and the surrounding metropolitan area had been replaced by the tranquillity of small towns, farms, and palatial, seasonal estates.
It was well past midnight when they drove into Sagamaunatuck, a thriving summertime town that served as a-commercial hub for that section of the island. Slowing deliberately to less than the posted speed limit, Curt advanced down Main Street. Most of the shops had been long since shut for the night. The only activity emanated from two local bars that sat opposite each other across the main drag.
Their doors were ajar to the mild mid-October night. Each had a handful of patrons. A bit of competing, low- volume music spilled out into the street.
'A nice quiet town, ' Steve commented.
'Let's hope it stays that way, ' Curt said.
'Hey, there's a kosher Jewish delicatessen! ' Carl said excitedly from the back seat. He pointed to the dark store. 'Look at all that stupid foreign writing on the window.'
'Don't get any ideas, ' Curt said.
'We're here for one reason only.' Curt and Steve had reconnoitered the place a month earlier and knew where they were going. The pest control company was on the next street over running parallel with Main Street.
Curt turned left at the next corner onto Banks Street and then left again onto Hancock. Wouton's Ptst Control was on the right in a one story cinderblock building. A large sign advertised that their expertise ranged from residential to agricultural and other commercial applications. To the right of the building was a parking lot surrounded by a chain-link fence with a gate secured by a padlock.
Three vehicles featuring the Wouton logo of a cartoon wasp were nosed in at the side of the building.
Two were vans. The other was a pickup with a load in its bed covered by a mounded viny tarp.
Curt pulled to the curb. He cut his engine, turned out his lights, and motioned for Nat to come alongside.
Windows were lowered.
'How many communicators do you have? ' Curt asked. In order to coordinate on missions, Curt had purchased an inexpensive radio system that worked within a radius of several city blocks.
'Two, ' Kevin said. He was sitting in the front passenger seat of Nat's truck.
'Here's another, ' Curt said. He handed over an additional communicator. 'Now here's what I want to do. I want two guys up at the next corner of Hancock and Willow with a radio. I want two guys back behind us at the corner of Hancock and Banks with another radio.
Nat, I want you to position yourself so that you can pick up either group if the need arises.'
'What are we supposed to do? ' Kevin questioned. 'Just stand out there in the dark? '
'You're going to be point men, you big lunkhead, ' Curt snapped.
'Lookouts.'
'What are we to look for? ' Kevin questioned. 'This town's deader than a doornail.'
'The local fuzz, ' Curt said. 'Last time Steve and I were out here, they cruised around a lot. Let's hope they don't show up, but if they do, you're to create some kind of diversion, whatever it takes to keep the cops busy while we get the truck out of the enclosure, and on its way.'
'I don't know what you mean, ' Kevin persisted.
'Just make a fuss, ' Curt said with exasperation. 'Argue or yell at each other. Once the cops get a load of your appearance, it'll be like flies to flypaper. If they want to take you to the stationhouse, let them. As usual, tell them nothing. The worst-case scenario is that they might keep you overnight, but that would be it. Trust me.'
'I got it, ' Nat called from the driver's seat.
Kevin started to argue that he had no intention of being in jail overnight, but Nat cuffed him on top of the head and told him to shut up.
'Nat, you give me a call when everybody is in position, ' Curt said.
'No problem, ' Nat said, and he drove forward.
Nat had advanced no more than fifty feet when a police cruiser rounded the corner ahead and started toward the two trucks.
'Shit! ' Curt cried. 'Everybody down! ' Curt and the others hunkered down in their seats as the police cruiser's headlights penetrated the cab.
'This is just what I was afraid of, ' Curt whispered. The sudden appearance of the police reminded him of the experience they'd had when they'd stolen the fermenters from the microbrewery in New Jersey.
They'd been startled by a security guard who'd walked into their midst while the crew was busy unhooking the plumbing. Curt had not thought about positioning lookouts, so they'd been caught completely unawares.
Unfortunately the security guard happened to be African-American, and Stew Manson, who'd had his usual Olympian quota of beer, went berserk.
He. shouted 'nigger' at the guard, who was unarmed, and smashed him over the head as hard as he could with a heavy-duty plumber's wrench.
The man's head squashed like an uncooked egg, skyrocketing the risk of the mission. Instead of participating in a robbery, they were all suddenly accessories to a murder. Curt was determined to avoid comparable surprises on this mission.
'What did Nat do? ' Steve asked.
'I don't know, ' Curt said. 'I didn't see.' The police cruiser rolled past. Curt craned his neck to watch the car's progress in his rearview mirror. Luckily, it didn't stop. Rather, it turned right on Banks Street.
Glancing ahead, Curt saw that Nat had stopped at the intersection and two figures had gotten out. The passenger door closed and the truck disappeared around the corner. The men stepped into the shadows.
Curt let out a breath of air. He'd not been aware he'd been holding his breath.
'Let's hope that means they won't be back for a while, ' Clark said from the back seat.
'I have a bad feeling about this, ' Steve said.
'I'm with you, ' Curt agreed. 'But we've got to get the truck.'
