“We’ve got a mission tonight,” Curt said. “It’s going to require finesse, which I’m not sure any of you understand.”

A titter sounded from a few of the troops.

“We’ve got to go out on the Island,” Curt continued. “Out to the Hamptons, to be exact, and steal a truck.”

“No need to go way the hell out there for a truck,” Stew said. He slurred his words. “There’s plenty of trucks right here in Brooklyn.”

“We’re talking about a special type of truck,” Curt said. “Who’s good at getting into a vehicle quickly and hotwiring it?”

Most of the troops turned to Clark Ebersol. “I guess that’s me,” Clark said. He was a slight fellow with a bumpy scalp that made shaving it a chore. “I’ve been joyriding since I was twelve.” He now worked at a local garage.

“Compisano is good if there’s an electronic alarm,” Kevin said. Kevin was a redhead like Steve, but with his hair shaved it was hard to tell save for his freckled complexion. He was also the youngest of the group at sixteen although he was a big, husky kid. The others ranged up to twenty-two. The oldest was Luke Benn.

“I’m mostly used to house alarms, not car alarms,” Mike Compisano said. In spite of his Italian name, Mike had been a towhead since birth. His blond eyebrows were almost transparent, giving him an expression of perpetual surprise.

“At least you know something about alarms,” Curt said. “That could come in handy. So you and Clark will ride with me and Steve. The rest of you go in Nat’s truck.” Of all the troops, Nat was the best off financially. His brother was in the garbage business. He had a king cab pickup like Curt’s with two rows of seats.

“Stew, you stay here,” Curt said.

“The hell I will,” Stew said. “I’m going with the action.”

“That’s an order!” Curt snapped. “You’re tanked. I can tell you’ve had about five beers more than anyone else. I don’t want this mission compromised.”

“Shit, man!” Stew complained.

“No argument!” Curt ordered. “Let’s move out.”

While Stew Manson sulked, the others eagerly hustled out of the pool room. At the bar most bought beers for the road. Outside they tumbled into the respective vehicles.

“Stay behind me at a reasonable distance,” Curt called to Nat before he started his truck. Nat gave him a thumbs-up sign. The next moment Nat’s truck erupted with the throbbing base of the group Brutal Attack. Nat had a special speaker system with a woofer capable of loosening his lug bolts.

They moved in a convoy of two vehicles. Nat followed orders and stayed comfortably behind Curt. Halfway out on Long Island they stopped at a service center so everyone could relieve themselves.