A Gang Story Page #3

- No.

Not at all.

You should be.

If the lefties ever get elected,

guys like us with a record,

will be in camps like the Jews.

They wanna prevent that.

They're the S.A.C.

De Gaulle's secret guys.

They find us heists,

we do them, and we split the loot.

The dough finances

a party to fight lefties.

Riton.

- Chavez.

Things OK, Raoul?

My gypsy pal:

Momon Vidal.

We were cellmates.

Hi.

Berri, Cheveux,

Raoul, Riton.

Nick the Greek.

Let's go!

We'll be up against 4 cops

with machine guns and 5 guards.

We heard they expect a heist,

so it may get rough.

Doesn't scare me.

Me, neither.

If there's loot to grab, I'm in.

And you, Greek boy?

I'm so strapped,

I'm hustling old biddies

at tea dances.

Count me in.

Kid?

I'll do like Chavez.

Fine.

In my view, a good stick-up

is like an army assault.

Back up car:

have one,

in case the first breaks down.

With a set of license plates

for each county you cross.

Return route:

after each job,

take the longest way home.

If it's 300 miles, make it 1000.

Take back roads,

avoid interstate highways,

and towns with State cops.

It's how you dodge roadblocks.

Means casing roads, fatigue.

But a 20-hour drive

beats 20 years in the pen.

Put down your gun!

Hands on your head.

I got it.

Look down!

Tax Collection Center, Dec 30, 1970

Cops!

Don't move!

Evreux Post Office, April 13, 1971

I spoke to Chavez.

He'll take you on.

I won't work with De Gaulle's thugs.

I thought Chavez was big time.

Yeah, but the others

stink of death.

We line our pockets

for 6 months, then split.

They'll teach me the craft.

Then I'll set up my own gang.

It'll just be us.

Went OK?

No cops on the road?

Come along.

Quite a load of booze!

- Why not!

So it's an all-guy fiesta!

The chicks'll be right up.

Guys.

Raoul's bro.

Hey, kid.

Relax, kid.

Wanna see hoods? You got 'em.

Sit down, it's happy time.

Chavez, why'd you do that?

I hear you work with jokers.

And flash your dough.

So people wonder where it came from.

Your kid bro brags

you hit the jackpot.

He's 17, he won't talk.

Too late.

- I did nothing, sir.

Gonna shut your trap?

I'm gonna quit, Joan.

Quit what?

I'm through with stickups.

I want my dough,

then I raise my kid.

What's this sh*t?

Momon!

You're not made for baby bottles.

You'll be bored shitless.

Your chick feed you that crap?

One last job,

then you do what you want.

Got a problem?

Momon wants to quit.

I heard you set up your own gang.

And plan to cross us.

True or bullshit?

Don't buttfuck me, gypsy.

Keep doing what you're told.

You only quit when I say so.

When do I get my 200 grand?

When I can pay you, kid.

I'm not your kid.

I did big jobs.

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