he middle Gerards had other kids besides Joseph Gerard III, but they didn't matter. What mattered was the baby. Joseph Gerard IV. Big name for such a little baby. He was only two months old when Blaze and George did their meter-reading bit in September. That made him-um, there were one-two-three-four months between September and January-six months old. He was the original Joe's only great-grandson.

"If you're gonna pull a snatch, you got to snatch a baby," George said.

"A baby can't ID you, so you can return it alive. It can't fuck you up by trying to escape or sending out notes or some shit. All a baby can do is lie there. It don't even know it's been snatched."

They had been in the shack, sitting in front of the TV and drinking beer.

"How much do you think they'd be good for?" Blaze asked.

"Enough so you'd never have to spend another winter day freezing your ass off selling fake magazine subscriptions or collecting for the Red Cross," George said. "How's that sound?"

"But how much would you ask?"

"Two million," George said. "One for you and one for me. Why be greedy?"

"Greedies get caught," Blaze said.

"Greedies get caught," George agreed. "That's what I taught you. But what's the workman worthy of, Blaze-a-rino? What'd I teach you about that?"

"His hire," Blaze said.

"That's right," George said, and hit his beer. "The workman's worthy of his fucking hire."

So here he was, driving back to the miserable shack where he and George had been living since drifting north from Boston, actually planning to go through with it. He thought he would be caught, but¡­two million dollars! You could go someplace and never be cold again. And if they caught you? The worst they could do would be put you in jail for life.

And if that happened, you'd still never be cold again.

When the stolen Ford was back in the shed, he remembered to brush the tracks away. That would make George happy.

He made himself a couple of hamburgers for his lunch.

"You really going through with it?" George asked from the other room.

"You lyin down, George?"

"No, standin on my head and jerkin off. I asked you a question."

"I'm gonna try. Will you help me?"

George sighed. "I guess I'll have to. I'm stuck with you now. But Blaze?"

"What, George?"

"Only ask for a million. Greedies get caught."

"Okay, only a million. You want a hamburger?"

No answer. George was dead again.