Flagged - The Wheelman

BY HIS THIRD BOILERMAKER, THE WORLD SEEMED TO make more sense. Sure, his house was burning … burnt … extinguished … but so what? That’s why God made insurance. Saugherty watched Dominick’s, looking for his boy, the bank robber. Sooner or later, he had to come back out the front. Sooner or later, he had to go for his $650,000. Sooner or later, Saugherty would get to finish the job he started late last night.

Somebody tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, buddy—what you lookin’ at over there?”

Saugherty turned to face the guy standing to his right. The man was big and pasty, with oversized tortoiseshell glasses and a bushy black moustache.

Saugherty opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t have the chance to answer the question. A fist smashed his nose, and then another hit the back of his head as he slid off of the stool. Saugherty held up a hand to protest, but somebody grabbed it by the wrist, then snapped his forearm in half.

After that, he lost track of the fists and shoes.