Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 404
“What the…” Troy murmured, killing the engine. He stepped out.
“Dude, don’t! This wasn’t my premonition.” Roger whispered sharply, peering around. But curiosity is a faster animal than fear.
Troy unzipped one. His breath caught. Hundreds, no, thousands of crisp hundred dollar bills, stacked like they were still warm from the mint.
Another bag. Sports cards. But not just any twenty-first century, over-produced lot no one wants. There were rookie Jordans, mint condition Griffeys, a Gretzky sealed in a plastic slab stamped “Gem Mint 10.” Roger whistled low. “This has to be a prank.”
“We’re not leaving it,” Troy said, tossing the bags into the backseat.
They were almost done when Troy glanced up and saw headlights flick on half a block down. A long, low black SUV, windows tinted deeper than legally allowed. “Uh shit. We’ve got company,” he said.
The SUV inched forward, deliberately. No sirens. No revving engine. Just quiet menace.
Troy jumped behind the wheel, slamming the car into drive. “Hang on.”