how?” said Lucas.
“We dime it out,” said Tavon. “That’s where the profit comes from.”
“Lotta work.”
“Lot more upside, too.”
“You sound confident,” said Lucas.
“We are,” said Tavon.
“You know the law’s gotta be watching you.”
“No doubt,” said Tavon. “But me and Edwin take precautions. We got no use for guns. We won’t even get near ’em. No landlines, either, and we only use disposable cells. Every time I go to my car, I check underneath it for tracking devices before I get in. Drive around for a while, take our time, before we even start to go to where we need to be at. We know what we’re doin.”
“So did Anwan,” said Lucas.
“Someone snitched him out,” said Edwin.
“Ain’t a whole lot you can do to stop that,” said Tavon.
“Cost of doing business,” said Lucas.
“Right,” said Edwin, missing Lucas’s edge.
Tavon worked a toothpick into his mouth and gave Lucasa long go-over with his eyes. “Anwan said you were some kind of badass marine. I was expecting… I don’t know
what
I was expecting, exactly. But it wasn’t you.”
“I feel the same way about y’all,” said Lucas. He signaled the waitress for their check.
Lucas settled up at the register. Out on the street, Tavon pointed to his car, a black Impala SS with 22s, custom rims, and extended pipes. It was the kind of ride that would be remembered.
“You or me?” said Tavon.
“Me,” said Lucas.
THE DROP-OFF spot was up on 12th, a one-block residential stretch between Clifton and Euclid. Nine brick row houses on each side of the street, eighteen houses in all, close to the local public high school. On the east side, alleys ran along the end homes. The houses all had porches set on brick bases, some with round columns, some with square. Concrete steps and stoops, painted metal awnings. Several had District-signature turrets and pronounced window boxes. Blue trash cans and recycling bins sat on many of the small front lawns. Some of the houses needed paint. Some were clean and maintained. A couple of them had been completely refurbished and lovingly detailed.
Lucas was behind the wheel of his Jeep, parked on 12th, facing north. There were few other cars parked on the street. Tavon was beside him in the shotgun bucket, Edwin on the rear bench. Lucas had his hands out the window, taking preliminary photos of the houses.
“Which one?” said Lucas.
“Across there, halfway down,” said Tavon, pointing to the east-side row of homes. “One with the green trim.”
Lucas saw it, a house trimmed in lime green with a white metal awning over the porch and a lime-on-white window box. It was set in the middle of the twenty-five hundred block. Even numbers on the east side, and he counted back from the southernmost home and noted the address, recording it in his phone’s voice memo app. He then entered into the record the number of every house, east and west sides, in succession.
“Twenty-five twelve, twenty-five fourteen, twenty-five sixteen…”
When he was done, Tavon looked at Lucas’s iPhone and said, “That your main piece of equipment?”
“It is now. I used to carry a camera and a tape recorder, but I don’t need them anymore. I have a notebook I use for sketches. Got some tools in the back of the truck as well.”
“Low overhead,” said Edwin.
“Uh-huh,” said Lucas.
“Notice how this street be real quiet?” said Tavon. “I mean, you don’t see no one walkin around, right? That’s why we picked it. This time of day, before noon? It’s a dead zone, man.”
“Folks on this street go to work,” said Edwin.
“Not all of them,” said Lucas.
“Nah, not all,” said Edwin. “But me and Tavon sat here a coupla days and just, you know, checked out the situation. Even knocked on a few doors where there wasn’t no action at all.”
“That house there?” said Tavon. “A lady left for work about seven thirty in the morning, on foot. After that? No one came in and
“We dime it out,” said Tavon. “That’s where the profit comes from.”
“Lotta work.”
“Lot more upside, too.”
“You sound confident,” said Lucas.
“We are,” said Tavon.
“You know the law’s gotta be watching you.”
“No doubt,” said Tavon. “But me and Edwin take precautions. We got no use for guns. We won’t even get near ’em. No landlines, either, and we only use disposable cells. Every time I go to my car, I check underneath it for tracking devices before I get in. Drive around for a while, take our time, before we even start to go to where we need to be at. We know what we’re doin.”
“So did Anwan,” said Lucas.
“Someone snitched him out,” said Edwin.
“Ain’t a whole lot you can do to stop that,” said Tavon.
“Cost of doing business,” said Lucas.
“Right,” said Edwin, missing Lucas’s edge.
Tavon worked a toothpick into his mouth and gave Lucasa long go-over with his eyes. “Anwan said you were some kind of badass marine. I was expecting… I don’t know
what
I was expecting, exactly. But it wasn’t you.”
“I feel the same way about y’all,” said Lucas. He signaled the waitress for their check.
Lucas settled up at the register. Out on the street, Tavon pointed to his car, a black Impala SS with 22s, custom rims, and extended pipes. It was the kind of ride that would be remembered.
“You or me?” said Tavon.
“Me,” said Lucas.
THE DROP-OFF spot was up on 12th, a one-block residential stretch between Clifton and Euclid. Nine brick row houses on each side of the street, eighteen houses in all, close to the local public high school. On the east side, alleys ran along the end homes. The houses all had porches set on brick bases, some with round columns, some with square. Concrete steps and stoops, painted metal awnings. Several had District-signature turrets and pronounced window boxes. Blue trash cans and recycling bins sat on many of the small front lawns. Some of the houses needed paint. Some were clean and maintained. A couple of them had been completely refurbished and lovingly detailed.
Lucas was behind the wheel of his Jeep, parked on 12th, facing north. There were few other cars parked on the street. Tavon was beside him in the shotgun bucket, Edwin on the rear bench. Lucas had his hands out the window, taking preliminary photos of the houses.
“Which one?” said Lucas.
“Across there, halfway down,” said Tavon, pointing to the east-side row of homes. “One with the green trim.”
Lucas saw it, a house trimmed in lime green with a white metal awning over the porch and a lime-on-white window box. It was set in the middle of the twenty-five hundred block. Even numbers on the east side, and he counted back from the southernmost home and noted the address, recording it in his phone’s voice memo app. He then entered into the record the number of every house, east and west sides, in succession.
“Twenty-five twelve, twenty-five fourteen, twenty-five sixteen…”
When he was done, Tavon looked at Lucas’s iPhone and said, “That your main piece of equipment?”
“It is now. I used to carry a camera and a tape recorder, but I don’t need them anymore. I have a notebook I use for sketches. Got some tools in the back of the truck as well.”
“Low overhead,” said Edwin.
“Uh-huh,” said Lucas.
“Notice how this street be real quiet?” said Tavon. “I mean, you don’t see no one walkin around, right? That’s why we picked it. This time of day, before noon? It’s a dead zone, man.”
“Folks on this street go to work,” said Edwin.
“Not all of them,” said Lucas.
“Nah, not all,” said Edwin. “But me and Tavon sat here a coupla days and just, you know, checked out the situation. Even knocked on a few doors where there wasn’t no action at all.”
“That house there?” said Tavon. “A lady left for work about seven thirty in the morning, on foot. After that? No one came in and
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