21 April, 2002: Flashfire
Flashfire is the latest Parker book by Donald Westlake writing as Richard Stark, and it echos The Hunter, the first Parker book, neatly. The setup is brilliant; Parker does a job with a crew of younger crooks, serving as the distraction while they rob a small-town bank. The job goes swimmingly, but they want Parker to do another job with them; when Parker says no, they withhold his share of the money, promising and intending to pay him back with interest. Parker, of course, makes his way crosscountry to find them, get his money, and make them pay.
That's a fine beginning to a crime novel, but Westlake shows how trivial the actual amount of the money is; on his way to Palm Beach, Florida, where the men who double-crossed him are preparing to rob a jewely auction, Parker robs movie theaters, gun stores, and drug dealers in a variety of ways, easily recouping his actual losses. As in The Hunter, Parker's coldly controlled fury is not just because of the money; it's because of the betrayal, the fact that people he expected to play by the rules didn't, although in this case the difference seems to boil down to a generation gap. The double-crossers genuinely don't seem to suspect, initially, how Parker will take it: of course they plan on returning the money, and if he had just gone along with their initial plan, everyone would have been happy. And they're right; they do know what they're doing, and they're good at their work. They're just operating on a different set of assumptions than Parker is. Flashfire also includes something uncommon in the Parker books I've read: a non-antagonist civilian. While investigating the situation in Palm Beach, Parker is sussed by a real estate agent who thinks her life is going nowhere; she's figured out that Parker is up to no good, she wants to help, and she wants a cut of the take. Westlake's portrayal of her -- intelligent, not much less moral than the rest of us, fast on her feet but not unbelievably show -- is nicely drawn, and throws Parker's singlemindedness into even starker relief.
And like most of the other Parker books I've read, Flashfire has some crackling prose, spare enough to let you see the bones underneath. Westlake is distilling down hardboiled fiction to its essence.
Ross showed Parker a pistol, but didn't exactly point it at him. "You shouldn't stand up," he said, "and you shouldn't move your hands off the table."
Parker said, "Tom Hurley told me you guys weren't hijackers."
"We aren't hijackers," Ross said, with simple sincerity. "You'll get your money. The job goes down two months from now, and then the money's yours. With interest."
Melander said, "Pal, I'm sorry we got to act this way, but what's our choice? We thought you'd come In with us, and then everything'd be fine. I'm sorry you feel the way you do, but there it is."
Carlson said, "You can count on us to pay you. I never stiffed another mechanic in my life."
You're stiffing me now, Parker thought, but what was the point talking?
The three exchanged glances, as though they thought there might be something more to say, and then Melander turned to Parker and spread his hands: "You know where we're going."
"Palm Beach."
"If we were hijackers, we'd kill you now."
The only thing to do, Parker thought, and waited.
Carlson said, "But that isn't our style."
Then you're dead, Parker thought, and waited.
Melander said, "It's just, we'd like you to stay at home, the next couple months. We'll phone you sometimes, we'd like to know you're there."
Parker shrugged. There was nothing to say to these people,
Apparently, they now themselves thought they'd said enough. They moved toward the door, Ross putting the pistol away, and left, not looking back at him.
Parker sat there, hands palm down on the table, little stack of bills between his hands. His money was gone, about to become an electronic impulse in Texas. This wasn't what it was supposed to be, and it wasn't what it was going to be.
That's the good stuff. This book was a lot of fun.