Chapter Three; The Things for Which Men, and Especially Princes, are Praised or Blamed

Niccolo headed for the Arizona and California Railroad: from here he could go to Phoenix, where friends would take him in.

He decided to call them before showing up; taking a ten-dollar bill, he looked for a place that he could buy a small snack and get change.

He went into a small variety store and bought himself some snacks. Then he headed over to the nearest phone booth. After all this time he still knew which number to dial. At least, he hoped he knew.

The phone rang three times on the other end. Niccolo cursed his ill fortune at this. What a fucking break! He had to get out of here!

Just as he was about to snap the phone's handle in two, a voice spoke up on the other end of the line, "Yeah, who the fuck is this?"

Niccolo sighed, "Charley, what's up?"

Charley spoke again, surprised and amazed, "Jesus, I'll be damned! It's you!"

Niccolo laughed and scratched his moustache out of impulse, "Yeah, it's been so fucking long. I thought I was gonna rot in that fucking prison!"

"Yeah we heard about your escapades, Mr. Pink!"

Niccolo groaned, "Fuck, man don't ever call me that again. If I live to be a hundred I don't never wanna hear that name again."

"So what should I call you now?"

"Call me Niccolo. Niccolo Donati."

"Sweet Christ you always picked the best names. How'd you get this one?"

"Inspiration. Now listen up, I need your help."

"Wait, what kind of inspiration?"

"God came down from heaven. I've got something to tell you."

Just as he was saying this, he noticed the music playing in the background. It was Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer". Normally, Niccolo would have loved to hear that song, but now he would be glad to never hear that song again. It had been one of the last songs he had heard before the robbery. Jesus, what a miserable memory to attach to such a fucking amazing song.

He spoke to Charley, "Can you turn that shit off? I don't want you to misunderstand me."

Charley sighed, "Fine." He turned off the music, "So what is it?"

Niccolo leaned closer into the phone handle, "Okay, I need you to give me the address of a guy that can forge ID cards. Driver's license, the works. Somebody good."

Charley chuckled, "Well it's a bit quick, but where are you calling from?"

"I'm in Blythe, California. Anyone good here?"

"Actually, yeah, last I figured. There's a guy named Bronson Blitzer. He's a good man, I knew him in grade school. He'll give you great stuff, it'll fool most anybody. I'd worry about using it in airports, though. No guarantees on that one."

Niccolo sighed, "Damn. Well I'll just have to get smuggled down south or up north. Which do you think is more likely?"

Charley grunted as he thought about it, "Well I can't really tell, man. Canada's a good place to hide out, but Mexico's easier to get into. It's your call, man. But I don't think you should be thinking of leaving the country yet, dude. You still have to get that ID from Mr. Blitzer."

Niccolo paused, "You know I've heard that name somewhere before."

"Blitzer? Oh, well he had a kid brother in the Hollywood business but he got too involved in the drugs and got himself killed a few months ago. Bronson's much more fucking sensible."

"Good. I don't want to find out he's a coke mule for Don Corleone or something." Niccolo paused, and asked, "How much does he usually ask for?"

"Depends. But the absolute lowest price he'll ask for is five grand, and only then if he knows you and respects you."

"Shit."

"Oh don't worry, I'll give him the heads up, he'll know I vouch for you."

"It's not that, it's just that I've only got a thousand right now."

"Jesus, man, you better find the rest of that quick."

Niccolo ground his teeth; easy for this motherfucker to say, but he was on the run here and he knew that the cops would be looking for a guy his size wearing the clothes he had stolen from the house. He needed to buy some new clothes to throw them off his trail. Maybe get a fake beard as well. And on top of this all, he needed to get a whole load of money. Five grand at the very least; and even after that he would need money to survive.

Pulling on the overcoat to hide his shirt, he entered the nearest clothes store.

The place was small; he could see to the end of the store, and he saw that there were only two or three people in the store. He glanced at the girl at the till, "Where's the men's clothes?"

She pointed at the far end of the store. Damn. If he was caught, he would be trapped like a rat. Oh well, he thought, I'll take that risk.

Niccolo began hastily picking clothes for himself, so that he had four different kinds of shirts to switch between to avoid identification. Plus he had two types of common pants that could never be counted on to pick him out of a crowd of people. Buying these and other articles of clothing, Niccolo immediately went back to the change room and changed into the clothes he just bought. The Brazilian's clothes were put in an empty cardboard box under the seat in the change room. Nobody would bother looking in there anyway.

Niccolo left the store as soon as he could. Wearing his new clothes, he felt a comfort in the fact that he had once again thrown off his trail. What a relief, he thought, to be able to avoid the fear of cops and focus on the problem of getting out for good.

His wanderings led him to a small motel that looked really anonymous. Niccolo judged it to be a pretty good spot for a bit of shuteye. He headed into the main entrance.

The man behind the counter was a heavy set guy that looked like a retired wrestler who'd let his body run to fat. Still, the guy had a big shotgun behind him on the wall. He glanced at Niccolo with a welcome but reserved eye, "How are you doing?"

Niccolo shrugged, "I don't know. But I'll take a room for two nights, please."

The guy rang it up and charged him. Niccolo had to stop himself from sighing as he peeled more money from his depleting wealth. He really needed to find some cash and fast.

But it was too late for that; he was dead tired and wanted to go to sleep. The bed was comfortable, the room was a pretty good temperature, and Niccolo fell asleep like a light after setting his alarm clock to 6:30 AM.

"""" """" """ "" " ""

Waking up, he took his belongings with him as he headed out. He didn't ever leave anything valuable out of his sight. Not ever. Except in a hiding spot.

He shuddered as he thought of the diamonds. Man he missed those. He'd gone through hell to get them, with some real fucked up people. It was a good thing they had all died. He had been the smartest one of them anyway. Except for that Mr. Blue. That guy had known his shit more than anyone at that table except for Joe. They must have known each other for a long time. He had been shocked to hear that Mr. Blue was dead: he had thought the guy would have gotten out of there.

Finally, he realized what he ought to do. He ought to rob a place, but what? What place should he rob? He was alone, with limited ammunition. The options were really limited.

He swore in frustration and went into a restaurant to eat some breakfast.

The waitress was pretty; the look that implies the fact that she's lived in this town all her life. But Niccolo couldn't help but notice the individual strands of hair falling down on her forehead, the swell of her breasts coming out of the shirt, the poised position she was standing in. She didn't notice his scrutiny, somehow, "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, I'll take some coffee, bacon, sausages, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. I'll take my coffee black, two sugars, no cream."

"Is that everything?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay I'll be right back with your coffee." She turned and left.

Niccolo heard the genuine good nature in the voice and knew that he wouldn't feel right about looking her up. Shit, she wasn't just playing a role here, she liked talking to people, it was a job she liked to do. She had smiled at him when she left, and she seemed to really appreciate him being in the resaurant.

He looked around. It looked like a pretty good place, lots of money invested, insured and everything. There was a young couple sitting off at a table not far from him, and a whole bunch of other characters in the restaurant. There were a bunch of other couples all around him, and they didn't look nearly as shady as he felt. So she wasn't looking for his money; she was actually a really nice person. Niccolo sighed and cracked open his book, The Prince.

He'd finished reading the book as he'd walked away from the Brazilians' house. It had been a quick scan and everything, though, so now he was just re-reading whatever part he opened up to. Here was the section The Things for Which Men, and Especially Princes, are Praised or Blamed.

Hm, why not? He thought. Reading down the section, he didn't see any lines that really stood out on their own, except the last lines on the matter.

So a prince has of necessity to be so prudent that he knows how to escape the evil reputation attached to those vices which could lose him his state, and how to avid those vices which are not so dangerous, if he possibly can; but, if he cannot, he need not worry so much about the latter. And then. he must not flinch from being blamed for vices which are necessary for safeguarding the state. This is because, taking everything into account, he will find that some of the things that appear to be virtues will, if he practices them, ruin him, and some of the things that appear to be vices will bring him security and prosperity.

That was one smart guy, Niccolo thought as he looked at the picture of the man on the cover of the book. Machiavelli had hit the nail on the head. Things that had to be done might look like bad things, but they had to be done to make him succeed. And some things that were considered good could get him killed in a specific kind of situation.

He was still thinking that when the girl brought him first his coffee, and then his breakfast. She smiled and asked how the book was. Trying not to show his impatience, he told her it was a very inspiring book that ought to be read by more people. He had the feeling that this would have led into a long conversation if she hadn't had other tables.

Hm, why not? he thought. He wouldn't mind a simple conversation right about now. He hadn't talked to anyone on relaxed terms for more than a year. Not since the breakfast before the heist that had put him in jail.

He drank his coffee down, and raised his cup for a refill. He had always liked to drink six cups of coffee in the morning. It hadn't helped his nerves. That had been the toughest part about jail. His coffee addiction had made his life hell in there, but it had eventually gone away. Now he no longer saw the sense in so much caffeine. Hell, two times would be fine.

He thanked the waitress, whose name tag read "Sharon". Nice girl, Niccolo thought for the umpteenth time. Sure was special, that girl.

What's special? Taking you in the back and sucking your dick?

Niccolo jumped as Mr. Blue's mockery suddenly rang through his head like a church bell. He heard the laughter of the others as Nice Guy Eddie's voice broke in, I'd go over twelve percent for that!

Niccolo sighed. How had Mr. Blue known about his hidden job as a waiter? Granted he'd never said anything to Niccolo, but Niccolo was sure that Blue had known. It had been in his voice as he'd attacked his idea of not tipping. Must have thought it a hypocritical thing for a waiter to say.

Funny enough, it was pretty hypocritical, but Niccolo had only taken the job as an alibi. He had despised the job, preferring to have a little affair with Brigitte Bardot on her break. He wondered if she'd ever seen Mr. Blue at Jack Rabbit Slims before. If he hadn't been on the run he would have called her up.

Suddenly a man's voice broke through his thoughts, "Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!"

Of course, some people screamed. Niccolo even heard the waitress' individual scream amongst the frightened people. His hand instantly when for where his gun was even as he put his book back in the rucksack.

A woman's voice broke through, foully swearing as she herded people to one side of the restaurant.

Niccolo ducked down in his seat, crawling from one place to the next to avoid the eyes of the two robbers. They were too busy with the other people in the store to notice one guy who they hadn't seen in the first place.

That gave Niccolo the advantage. He prepared to shoot them both as they were distracted.

The man paced around on the tops of tables, ranting and raving like a man with a fierce temper but a firm hold on his position. He would call out to his girl, calling her 'honey bunny' as she helped him rob the place.

Niccolo noticed the waitress, cowering with some other people, and he felt a pang of sadness. He felt pissed off at these two idiots for fucking up his breakfast. He ought to scare the shit out of them here and now, but then someone's words broke into his thoughts.

...taking everything into account, he will find that some of the things that appear to be virtues will, if he practices them, ruin him, and some of the things that appear to be vices will bring him security and prosperity.

Niccolo paused in amazement at this revelation, and knew that there was only one thing to do. It was a dick move, but it was the one thing that would keep him alive and prosperous. It would get him the money he needed, and he would avoid identification.

He crawled to the bathroom, and quickly changed his clothes. taking out his sunglasses and hat, he wrapped a handkerchief around his nose like in one of those classic Western films.

He peered out of the bathroom door to see if they were finished. These two were taking the wallets of the people, and had already emptied the cash register.

Cocking his gun, Niccolo prepared to make his move, guided by Machiavelli and waiting for the moment when they'd finished taking the loot.

They finished quick enough, he noted. He must have either taken really long to change, or these two weren't such amateurs as he thought.

The two of them headed out for the door.

That was the signal for Niccolo, and he burst out of the bathroom as silently as he could and began running for the door just as people were still looking up disoriented. Anyway, only one person would recognize him and he a good feeling that she wouldn't put two and two together for a while. Based on her shaking and look of horror, this was her very first robbery. He almost felt sorry for her, but he was determined to do what had to be done.

The two robbers were hurrying to their car. The man was carrying a garbage bag with the money and wallets inside. Niccolo screamed out his challenge, "Hey! Bonnie and Clyde!"

They both turned around, and never even had the time to raise their guns.

Niccolo's aim was still good, especially at close range. The two went down with bullets in their heads, dropping the money and their guns.

Grabbing the bag and the guns, Niccolo hurled them into the car and grabbed the car keys out of the dead man's pocket. Putting his rucksack in the seat next to him, he drove off as fast as could without attracting attention to himself, and pulled into an alleyway.

He began to go through the wallets, pulling money out of them but leaving the identifications alone. The wallets alone gave him six thousand, while the cash register was worth two. Niccolo's fingers began to tremble with excitement. He'd take the money but drop off the wallets at the police station. First he'd take care of this car, though.

Taking the valuables out of the car, he took the handkerchief off his face and dabbed it in gas from the gas tank. Lighting it with the very last of his matches, he bolted out the other side of the alleyway and headed for the police station even as he saw cars heading for the restaurant.

Dropping the garbage bag next to the door after making sure he avoided the security camera, Niccolo turned and headed off to find Mr. Blitzer.