Not athletic like his brother, Paddy struggled to breathe and stumbled over a tree root, falling face-first to the ground. Muttering obscenities, he rolled over, holding his chest. "Mason, I can't — stop!" 

Mason stopped and returned to Paddy, hissing, "Can you shut your mouth, or do you want to tell everyone where we're hiding?" He squatted beside Paddy. "Are you hurt?" 

Paddy rubbed his ankle. "It hurts, but I don't think it's broken. Maybe a sprain." Mason tried to help him off the ground, but Paddy groaned in pain. "I'm not sure I can walk." 

"Okay, give me a minute to think, will you?" Mason checked their surroundings, making a snap decision. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He hurried across the street into a factory parking lot. Then, in a few minutes, a car without its lights pulled onto the street and stopped close to the curb. The driver's door opened, and Mason jumped out, hurrying to Paddy. He lifted him off the ground and shoved him into the back seat before driving away.

"You stole a car? Mason, you're mad!"  

"Just shut up before I dump you on the side of the road," he snapped, "Those blokes won't notice the car gone until they get off work tonight. We'll be long gone by then." 

"Ma-a-son, there's a cop car." Peering over the front seat, Paddy squealed. 

"Relax, will you? We're just a car driving down the street. No one knows it's stolen unless you draw attention to us." He played it cool with his brother, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel as he watched the cruiser approaching.  

The police car drove by and continued down the street. Both men breathed a sigh of relief.  

Mason's confidence returned. "See, 'fraidy cat. You got all worked up for nothing." 

"Don't you think the bartender woman has told the police about us by now? They'll know what we look like." Paddy wailed. "They'll be looking for us if they aren't already." 

"No one is looking for us in this car — yet. By the time they put two and two together, we will be far away. And rich!" 

"Rich? We don't have the diamonds." 

"Paddy, why don't you use your brain? We don't have the stuff, but we know where the old man and his kid live." 

"Won't the police be swarming all over their house?" 

"Possibly. If the kid's got the diamonds, they're burning a hole in his pocket. He's going to want to hide them or get rid of them. Either way, we'll get our hands on them first." 

"How? We can't go charging into the house. Who knows if he's got a gun or something." 

Nearing the corner of Latham and Chandler, Mason slowed and parked behind another car, shutting off the vehicle's lights. 

"Why you stopping here? Let's just get out of town." 

Mason nodded, "We are, but not without those diamonds." 

"Maybe the drunk old man was making it all up." 

"We both heard him in the bar. He yelled out diamonds. You saw his son trying to shut him up. Patience, brother. We're going to sit and wait." 

"What if he doesn't come out — soon?" Paddy's nerves were sending him off the edge. He just wanted to get out of town. 

"Then, I guess we go and get him." Mason laughed. 

"No — no — no! We can't do that." Paddy started to rock back and forth. "You're crazy, and you're going to get us killed." 

"Not to worry. I got this!" Mason laughed louder. "Ain't I the one who's always got a plan? Now, shut up and wait.: 

Paddy moaned and fell back against the seat. "After what you did to that guy, even God's not going to help us." 

************************* 

"No, don't kill me! You can have —" Bennie stifled a scream. 

Bang! A newspaper carrier tossed the morning paper from his bike and continued down the street. The flying object slammed against the windowpane above Bennie's head. He shot upward on the couch. 

His shirt clung to his chest, covered with sweat. Last night, he'd collapsed on the couch and fallen asleep, fully dressed.  

Throughout the night, he dreamt of men chasing him or looking down the barrel of a gun. Awakened by the loud bang, he was positive someone was shooting at him. He rolled off the couch onto the floor, listening for another round of gunfire. 

Deciding he was safe for the moment, he grabbed the phone and dialed Lance's number. After four rings, the disgruntled lawyer answered, "Hello." 

"Lance, it's me. I can't get yesterday out of my mind." Bennie paced, stopping to peer outside from behind the curtain. "We need to get out of town. It's not safe." 

Lance moaned. "Bennie, the sun's just coming up. Can't we discuss this later? After yesterday's drinking fiasco, my head is throbbing. See you in the office in two hours." Lance started to hang up the phone when he heard Bennie's screams. He put the phone by his ear, "Bennie, what's happening?" 

"Lance, you've got to listen to me. We've got to go now, like right this minute." 

"You've lost your mind, pal. We don't even know for sure where we are going." 

"I might have screwed up last night. I was drinking with Pop at the Watering Hole, and I think —" Bennie cleared his throat. "I might have mentioned the stash to him." 

"You think you might have — mercy in heaven, Bennie. You, of all people, should know how loose your pop's jaws are when he's sloshed. By now, half of Trenton probably knows about the stuff." 

"I'm throwing some clothes in a suitcase. I suggest you do the same. Hang a closed sign on your office door, and let's hightail it out of town." 

Lance pounded his fist against the nightstand, yelling into the phone, "Where to? To do what? We can't just run away." 

"I know, but we need to get out of town before people come looking for us, asking questions. We can think things out better without someone breathing down our necks —" Bennie shivered. "Or killing us. I'm gassing up the Chevy, and I'll pick you up in thirty. Be ready." 

He hadn't realized how heavy he was breathing till he hung up the phone. He crammed a few toiletries into the overflowing suitcase and closed it. Racing down the hallway, he remembered his dad. 

Sitting the suitcase on the floor, he walked back to Pop's bedroom door and tapped. When no one answered, he pressed his ear against the door and listened. All Bennie could hear was his ragged breathing. 

"Pop, I'm leaving town with Lance for a few days. I wanted to say goodbye."  

When his dad didn't respond, he tried again. "Pop, did you hear me? I gotta go so I'll call you from the road. Take care of yourself." 

Bennie stopped in the kitchen, scribbled a note for his dad, and put it on the refrigerator. He grabbed his suitcase and rushed outside to his car, tossing his belongings in the back seat. 

As he pulled the Chevy onto the deserted street, not saying goodbye to his father nagged at him. Had his dad gotten that drunk last night? Later, he would question why he hadn't heard his father snoring; after all, he sounded like a chainsaw most nights. But for now, he shoved his thoughts away and focused on getting to Lance, mentally promising to call his dad later. 

************** 

The driver behind the wheel of the sedan parked in the shadows started its engine. He eased his car away from the curb, following Bennie's Chevy, with the lights off.