[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/drrqNvx.jpg?2[/img]

[b]Part III:
Criminal Darwinism
[/b]
[i]"Criminal: a person with predatory instincts who has not sufficient capital to form a corporation."[/i]
― Howard Scott
[/center]



"This is it for me," Handy McKay said from the passenger seat of Parker's car. "This is my last job, Parker. I can't do this anymore."

Parker didn't respond. Parker and McKay had been working together off an on for nearly a decade and every job they worked together was always going to be Mckay's last. He was tired of the life, he couldn't keep taking the risk, it wasn't worth the headaches. But yet here he was, sitting int he car in the shadow of a housing project he was about to rob.

"Shit has just changed so much, Parker. What happened to the guys like us, huh? The strongarm guys and the yeggmen?"

"Dead, retired, or in jail," said Parker. "It's the crook retirement plan. Pick one of the three."

"Yep, and there aren't any new kids coming up to take their place. We're the last of a dying breed."

Parker just nodded. Handy was right about that. Thanks to computers and the internet, the way thieving was done was completely different than when Parker had first started robbing. Fifty years ago, guys like Parker and Handy were all over the place. Professional hijackers, safecrackers, highwaymen formed their own shadow working class across the country. Now? The best thief in the world was probably some fat teenager sitting in his underwear in Estonia, stealing credit card information by the hundreds. 

In the past few years guys like Handy always asked themselves and Parker the question of why. Why did they still do it? Why run the risk when there were easier rackets out there where they could make just as much, if not more, money? Parker couldn't answer for guys like Handy, but he knew why he was still out here. It was because he was good at it. And he knew that if this were fifty years ago, he'd be considered the best thief in the world. If guys like Thomas Segel subscribed to a type of Economic Darwinism, then Parker was a full believer of Criminal Darwinism. He was the meanest, toughest, son of a bitch out here and he would rob and take whatever he wanted until he was stopped.

Down the block from where they sat was an open-air drug corner. They watched as a crew of three teenagers served customers who walked up on foot or who drove up in cars. In the half hour they'd been watching at least twenty people had come through to get their fix. Parker did the quick math in his head, but before he could get it out of his mouth Handy beat him to the punch:

"They probably clear close to five grand a day," he said. "And that's just one corner. Skeevers has all the drug corners on this side of town and runs product through all the housing projects."

"Skeevers has to be making at least twenty grand a day," said Parker. "All that money has to be collected from the corners to go somewhere. I'm betting it's the tower."

Thanks to Segel's connections, Parker and Handy had gotten a blueprint of the Finger Homes. The main building was a twelve story tower. Surrounding it were four low-rise housing complexes. All told there were two hundred units and apartments with which to hide drugs, money, and whatever else could be hidden.

"We need to get closer," Parker said as Handy lit up a cigarette. "We need to get into the project house."

"Good luck," said Handy, blowing smoke. "They'll see a big white guy like you coming a mile away. Even a brother like me, I'm not from the homes so they're going to be looking at me funny. I'm telling you, Parker, I grew up in the PJ's. Those corner boys are watching everything."

Parker scowled. How in the hell would they get in to do recon, much less to actually pull the job, if their every move was being watched? Parker was beginning to regret ever living Tampa for this shit show.

"We need a finger, that's for sure," said Handy. "Around these parts, that's going to be easy. We flash some cash at one of these small fish dealers and they'll sell out their mama. Still doesn't help us the day of. We need a way to get into the projects without anyone paying us attention."

A car zoomed down the street past Parker's parked car and came to a skidding stop beside the drug corner. The black car's light flashed blue as three plainclothes detectives jumped out and started to rush towards the fleeing drug dealers. Even the junkies and neighbors all started to make themselves scarce as another unmarked police car came into the area and joined the chase after the runners.

"What if we don't go in quiet," Parker said with a nod towards the cop cars. "What if we go in loud and bright, and doing so in a way to make people avoid us like the plague."

"Son of a bitch," Handy said with a grin. "And mamma always said I'd look good in uniform."