Odd Man Out

The trunk opened and a limp arm flopped out.

"He's dead, you killed Fox!" said Horse, the getaway driver.

"Yeah," replied the shooter through her black balaclava. "Shouldn't I have?"

"No, Griffin. You shouldn't have." Horse paced, rubbing his face through his mask. "Well. Now what?"

Horse jumped as the heavy roller door of C&C Automotive Repair slammed shut, noise echoing through the dim garage.

Griffin looked at Bear and Shark, the muscle and hacker respectively. "Dump him in the open manhole out back," she gestured with her free hand to the rear door of the dirty garage. The other hand held a heavy metal briefcase containing their stolen priceless relic.

"Is it safe to just leave him there?" asked Shark, removing his scarf and jacket, tossing them against a stack of tires.

"It leads into the sewers. By the time anyone finds the body, we'll be long gone."

Shark and Bear nodded, then wrestled the lifeless man from the car and carried him through the back door of the garage.

Griffin closed the trunk of the silver getaway sedan, pulled out her revolver from her jacket pocket and placed it on top. She looked to Horse, who had slowed his pacing to a nervous shuffle. His feet scraping worn concrete and early morning highway traffic was all that could be heard.

"Relax," she told him, "his girlfriend told me he was going to betray us. Sell us out as soon as we left here."

"And how can we trust her?"

"She's gone,” Griffin said, her eyes darting to the silver revolver.

Horse's eyes widened. "How can I trust you?"

"You're still here." She chuckled. "Look, I've not seen your face, you haven't seen ours. We go our separate ways right now and you can pretend like nothing ever happened."

"Like hell! That relic is worth millions. I'm not walking away from my cut!"

Griffin turned as the back door screeched. Horse snatched the revolver from atop the car and leveled it at Griffin.

"Woah! Hey now," said Bear, as he and Shark gingerly walked towards them. "Looks like we missed something?"

"Hands up, move over here." Horse gestured towards Griffin with the short-barrel gun. "Throw your weapons on the ground."

"Don't need any, friend," said Bear, flexing his giant biceps as he pointed his hands to the ceiling.

Shark slowly pulled a glinting, switchblade from his pocket, "This was my mom’s, so I'd rather place it gently," he said, lowering the silver-plated knife to the ground.

"I have a buyer lined up," said Griffin, regaining the attention of the room, "but it's not as simple as cash in hand tomorrow, we'll have to wait at least a month."

"Give me the briefcase," said Horse. "Now!"

"Let’s think this through," said Griffin. "I shot Fox twice, leaving three bullets in that gun you're holding. Think you can hit all three of us before we pounce?"

Horse tried to look into the chambers of the Smith & Wesson 442.

Griffin edged forward, "Let's avoid another death, David."

Horse startled, looking up in surprise at hearing his own name.

"Can we trust you to keep your mouth shut?" Griffin continued.

"I'm no rat. I just want what's owed to me."

"Tell you what, I’ve got something in the trunk you might like."

"What is it?"

"Wouldn't be fun if I told you now, would it?"

Griffin reached out a hand to the trunk. Horse raised the gun to Griffin's face.

"Jesus Christ!" she said, "It's money. For you. Consider it your wages for a job well done."

The gun dipped. "How much?"

Griffin popped the trunk open and gingerly pulled out a small backpack. "Hundred grand, in twenties and fifties. More than enough for you to catch the next flight to Colombia, get back together with your ex and take it easy for a decade. I'm sure you don't want to be stuck here the rest of your life."

"I hear there is always a need for a mechanic in Bogotá," Shark added.

"I could just kill you and take the money and the case."

"You could," said Griffin, "but you won't. Sure, it's better to split the prize pool with fewer people, but I don't think you'll be the one leaving here alive."

Horse walked backwards and placed the bag on the ground. He kept the gun trained on Griffin as his other hand unzipped the bag. He reached in and pulled out a stack of notes with a paper seal wrapped around it.

“You can count it if you want. But it’s all there,” Griffin said.

Horse shook his head as he placed the money in the bag and zipped it back up. "I guess we part ways then," replied Horse, throwing the backpack over his free shoulder, gun switching targets every few seconds.

"I guess we do."

Horse backed out slowly through an office door in the side of the garage.  

The crew waited, listening as the footsteps faded. They lowered their arms when they heard an engine outside start up. Gravel pinged against the garage door as Horse tore off.

Griffin, Bear, and Shark let out a collective sigh of relief.

"You had that money stashed the whole time?" Bear asked Griffin.

"It was there for any miscellaneous payoffs. And I certainly didn't want to split this five ways," she said, holding up the briefcase.

"We could have killed him. You know, play it safe?" asked Shark, picking up his treasured knife.

"I don't kill people, Shark, you know that,” Griffin turned to lead the group out the back door.

The sun began to rise as they exited the garage. They removed their stifling balaclavas and leather gloves. Griffin looked down the open manhole and lowered the multi-million dollar briefcase.

"Hey Fox, catch!"