The Heist Read Online Free PDF Page A

hands and knees, then stood in one smooth motion. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
    “I don’t think it’s Jesus, Mary, or Joseph.” Marty’s voice was hoarse, almost a whisper. His heart was thumping wildly. Marty had read enough about life force to know it couldn’t turn back the clock. It didn’t make you young, but it made you as alive as an old-timer could be.
    Thelma stood, springing up with ease. She let out a cry of surprise.
    Marty got to his feet as well. He was shivering uncontrollably, his clothes dripping, his shoes waterlogged. He felt like he could lift an elephant.
    Bill grinned at him. Marty grinned back, ecstatic at the thought of having his old friend back in both mind and spirit. Alzheimer’s stood no chance against ten thousand years of life force, if that’s what that wonderful bowling ball had given them.
    Then he remembered Frank. “Oh, Frank, I’m so sorry,” he muttered.
    “If it wasn’t for Frank…,” Bill said.
    They stood with their heads bowed, silent and motionless.
    “We’d better get out of here,” Marty finally said.
    They headed down the beach at a brisk walk, away from the flashing lights and the casino. They hadn’t gone a quarter mile when Marty heard a sharp whistle. He looked up at the boardwalk. Frank was standing at the railing, holding a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee.
    Head down, Marty headed for the stairs. He felt like shit. He hadn’t asked Frank to take the bullet for the rest of them, but he had, and now he was on the outside looking in, and that made Marty feel like a big pile of shit.
    “Tell me you did it,” Frank said. “Tell me this wasn’t all for nothing.”
    Marty struggled to meet Frank’s eye. “We did it. I’m so sorry, Frank.”
    Frank shushed him harshly. “Don’t say that. Let me be happy for you, for the part I played in it.”
    “If it wasn’t for you, we’d be in jail right now,” Thelma said. “Thank you. I hope I can return the favor some day.”
    “Me, too,” Bill chimed in. “I won’t forget.”
    Marty lunged, gripped his friend in a bear hug.
    “Come on,” Frank said, eyeing their wet clothes. “Let’s get you guys home. We’re outside the roadblock they set up around the casino, so it should be clear sailing from here. We’re just four old-timers out for a walk.”
    “The coffee’s a nice touch,” Marty said, gesturing at Frank’s cup. “What sort of thieves stop for coffee?”
    Frank handed the cup to Marty. “I’m guessing you can use it more than me. Come on.”
    They followed Frank down the boardwalk. Marty tried to act like an eighty-one-year-old—frail, and slightly bewildered to be so frail. But inside, his bones and joints were singing.
    He looked out at the ocean, thought he spotted a black sheen in one of the breakers, but then it vanished.
    What in the hell was that creature going to do, swimming around in the ocean for just shy of eternity? Marty guessed it was better than being cooped up in a fish tank for eternity. And who knew what a thing like that needed or didn’t need? It didn’t resemble the Procyoni in any way; either they’d made it, or it was some other species entirely, and the Procyoni had enslaved it. The Procyoni seemed arrogant and greedy enough to dabble in slavery, although in truth, Marty really didn’t know shit about the Procyoni. Nobody knew shit about the Procyoni. They were secretive as hell.
    There was a T-shirt shop up ahead; Marty wondered if they should duck in and buy some dry clothes, assuming the place had a dressing room. It would take time, but their wet clothes were a big, fat red light if they ran into any—
    Police. Marty’s pulse jumped into overdrive as a uniformed officer stepped out of the T-shirt shop and headed their way.
    “Oh, crap,” Bill said under his breath.
    “I got this,” Marty said. “Get ready to go into your Alzheimer’s act.” If the Procyoni had reported the heist—and especially their creative means of escape—they were