Chapter 2

Klaus Vermeer headed down the street, wondering which car would stop to bring him to Joe's. From the payphone- Vermeer knew that Joe would cut his fucking hand off rather than talk about such things on a traceable phone- Joe had told him, go down the street and wait outside the laundromat. Vermeer had done exactly that, but no car was waiting for him yet.

He wondered what Joe was up to this time. The last time that Joe needed him, he had been a negotiator's escort in a drug shipment. He had been one of the bodyguards of Nice Guy Eddie when Eddie had had to talk with some Irish thugs about paying what they owed Joe. Just when Vermeer had thought that things were at their worst, they had caved in to the threats and had delivered the money.

Vermeer thought of all the times he and Joe had worked together, and how Joe had always lived up to his commitments. He was definitely an honourable character, that Joe. Nice guy, too.

Vermeer sat on the stoop and started eating a sandwich he had bought for himself. It tasted like shit, as he had thought it would, but at least it was something.

That was when the car came up to him. Vermeer thought the driver was trying to hit him and was already standing up and jumping back when the car skid to a halt. Vermeer dropped the sandwich into the garbage can- he would get something to eat after seeing Joe.

Vermeer saw that it was Nice Guy Eddie of all people. Eddie leaned over on the passenger seat, grinning, "Mr. Vermeer! Good to see you again!"

Vermeer grunted. There was a time when he had bounced this little punk on his knee. Now he was a grown man. Vermeer felt minded to cuff Eddie over the head, "Learn to drive, you crazy asshole. You almost killed me: I'm getting too old to jump for my life."

Eddie's grin widened, "Come on, Mr. Vermeer, get in. Dad's been looking forward to seeing you again."

Vermeer got in, sitting next to Eddie as he drove the car. He wondered if Eddie was being tailed, or if he knew about how the cops would tail suspects. He didn't know if Eddie had changed since he last saw him, but Vermeer knew Eddie was not yet what his father was.

Joe was experienced in pulling heists, and he had been very rewarding to loyal followers. Vermeer had learned long ago that he was safest in Joe's organization, but even so, he had never been a true member of the group. He was always on the outside, always relied upon to be there when needed, but never there for long.

In truth, Vermeer didn't like the close association of being in an organization. It was too easy to be dragged down with the rest if just one motherfucker didn't keep his mouth shut. There was too much hastle in the need for keeping rats out, and Vermeer wasn't very interested in being caught up in a run-in with the damn flatfoots.

"So what have you been up to, Mr. Vermeer?" Eddie hated silence. Anyone who knew him for a long time, like Vermeer, knew that if nobody broke the silence, then Eddie would do it.

Vermeer took a cigar from the dashboard and put it in his mouth out of habit, "I've been laying low for the last few weeks. I don't want to be followed or anything."

"Anything happen or what?" Eddie asked, his eyes fixed on the road.

Vermeer shrugged, "It keeps me outta jail, what do you expect?"

Eddie grunted in amusement as he turned right, flipping the bird to a guy making a U-turn at precisely the wrong moment.

Vermeer settled back into the seat, trying to get comfortable, "I swear, I've gotta retire one of these days."

Eddie laughed, "Really? What do you want from Daddy, a desk job?"

"Yeah right,' Vermeer growled, 'I've been thinking of laying low further south."

For the first time since Vermeer got in, Eddie looked over at him, "Well then you're in the right car. My father's got a proposal for you that might just fit in with what you want."

Vermeer grunted, "That a fact?"

Eddie nodded, "Mm-hm."

By that point, they were at Joe's office. Eddie discreetly parked the car out of sight, and the two of them got out to head inside.

Joe was seated at his desk like always. He was a big, beefy man who had lost most- if not all- of his hair. His face was like a boulder on the west coast- worn, weathered, yet still displaying a deep inner strength. At first glance he would seem to be a very grim man, and he certainly was, but his age often hid the power that Joe had in him. Vermeer doubted that Joe would ever lose that power.

Joe got up to shake Vermeer's hand and clap him on the shoulder, "Klaus! How are ye?"

Vermeer grinned, "I feel like I'm seventy-five years old." In reality, he was sixty-six years old, two years older than Joe. That made Eddie, what, thirty something? Vermeer could never remember.

Joe sat down again once Vermeer was comfortably seated, "So what have you got planned out for yourself, Klaus?"

Vermeer shrugged, "I'm getting too goddamn old to go play cowboys anymore. I'm thinkin' that it's time I hung it up and settled down somewhere quiet. Maybe somewhere in Hawaii or a place where I can watch the blue ocean and feel the sun without carrying a fucking rifle under my seat."

Joe gave his own version of a smile, "That paints a pretty picture, don't it? Well I don't blame you for wanting that. Hell, I'd be glad to give it to ye."

Vermeer leaned back, "For one last favour?"

Joe lifted up the palms of his hands to the sky, in an offering of negotiation, "I don't want you to think you have to take it, Klaus. You and I, we've come a long way together. We've watched the fucking chinks run for us, ready to tear us to pieces, and we showed 'em what we thought of 'em. You've been a big help with the business, like a brother even. I know I can always trust you: and I need people I can trust."

Vermeer raised an eyebrow, "A new heist?"

Joe nodded, "Yeah."

Vermeer frowned, "With a bunch of guys I've never seen before?"

The right corner of Joe's mouth twitched in acknowledgement.

Vermeer chuckled, "That's gonna be pretty hard to do, Joe. I doubt you could whip up any new guys anymore. I'll know them."

Eddie chuckled, "Trust us, Mr. Vermeer, you're not our main guy. We've hired you as sparingly as anybody. It's a clever system, to be sure."

Vermeer turned around impatiently, "I know your fucking system, Eddie. I've known your old man since we were dodging bullets on the fucking Pacific islands."

Eddie shrugged, "I was just saying that you won't know anyone we bring in."

Vermeer turned back to Joe, "I don't want to have to come back here again. If we go to Hawaii, or wherever to cool off and hide, I'm staying there. Consider it my farewell attachment to you, Joe."

Joe spread his arms out, "Alright. One more for old times' sake."