“That would be nice. Thank you, my darling.”
Fran stopped what she was doing and took a jar of freshly ground coffee beans out of a cupboard for the percolator. She separated the two halves of the machine and filled the base with water from the tap. Finally, she measured out the coffee into the top half, screwed the two pieces back together again and put the percolator on the hob and started heating up the coffee. Five minutes later and Lagotti had a fresh cup of piping hot coffee in front of him where he’d sat at the kitchen table when Fran had commenced her coffee mission.
“Breakfast, dear?” Frankie nodded and in a short while, bacon, eggs and toast appeared, which he dutifully consumed with gusto and verve.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said once his plate was cleared, “and what are we going to have tonight?”
“Oh nothing special. Just pork sausage, meatballs with spaghetti, that kind of thing.” And she was right. It was nothing special but place those ingredients near her Bolognese sauce and you’d cream your pants.
Lagotti smiled, stood up and went upstairs. Into their bedroom - the children had moved out to get married several years ago - and took a shower, then a shave and put on a fresh set of clothes.
◆◆◆
At this point, the door bell rang out, which meant Lagotti knew it was eight fifteen and Paul was right on time. Sure enough, a quick glance at his watch proved this fact.
Lagotti put on his shoes and went downstairs, opened the front door and said: “I’ll be out in a minute.” Frankie did this not for his benefit or for Paul’s - the man could wait all day as far as Lagotti was concerned because he was paying for Paul’s time. He did it for Fran, who used to fret about poor Paul waiting outside all on his own. So Frankie would acknowledge Paul’s existence to stop himself getting nagged by Fran, which never looked good in front of his men.
Frankie kissed Fran on the cheek, told her he’d be back later, but he didn’t know when, and left the house to be driven by Paul to the auto repair shop, where he’d hold court on the day of the robbery.
As ever, the first thing was to make some calls and catch up on the business of the day. Then he could dispatch Paul and Luigi to make their morning collections while Lagotti considered strategy. This mainly consisted of staring at hardcore pornography until the boys came back with the bags of cash.
Of course, today was a special day and Lagotti wanted his boys near him in case of need, so the collections would wait until later in the morning. He told Paul to fill the car with gas, just in case there was a journey to be made and Lagotti sank bank in his chair and waited.
Luigi brought him in a cup of strong coffee about fifteen minutes later and left the boss on his own. Luigi knew better than to hang around unless he was explicitly told to do so. He understood he creeped most people out and had accepted this as part of his normal way of life quite some time ago.
Apart from the sound of Lagotti’s breathing and the music coming out of a radio, all was silent in the auto repair shop. One thing that never happened was a car coming in for any kind of repair. The same vehicles had been on that forecourt from the first week Lagotti become its proud owner when Harvey Titchford handed over the deeds after he found himself unable to meet the debt repayments of an incredibly foolhardy bet on the World Series.
The clock next to the radio in Frank Senior’s anteroom ticked and tocked and slowly, but surely, the big hand lurched from the number eight towards the number nine.
Lagotti was unaware of this massive journey as he was ensconced in his office, staring at women’s body parts, occasionally sipping from his cup and generally enjoying his working day. Most of Lagotti’s effort involved finding new debtors and calculating an appropriate vig. Nowadays, with his reputation and existing clientele, the customers came to him. The days of Lagotti having to hang out at late night poker games had long since faded.
Instead, he used his connections to lure insects into his web and, worse case, with businesses rather than inveterate gamblers, he could find himself with an interest in something unusual like the Kitkatt Club or this auto shop. But most of the time, Lagotti wanted to make money by lending money and not by getting an income over time based on how well someone else was doing. He didn’t like relying on other people to make his money.
Paul knocked on the door and Lagotti called him in. The obligatory wait over, Paul said: “There’s something on the news I think you’ll want to hear. It’s about the Bank of Baltimore.” Lagotti leapt to his feet and went straight to the reception area of the auto shop. There, on top of the fridge, was the radio which had been piping out music from the moment he had arrived this morning, as it did most every day. A DJ was talking about the bank and Lagotti stood next to the fridge, intensely listening...
43
Frank opened his eyes and looked at Mary Lou’s body - or rather the small part of her body he could see. One of his eyes was buried in his pillow so all he could perceive was the few inches in front of his one functioning eye. Mary Lou was lying on her side, her head facing him with a nipple a tongue stretch away from his mouth.
Frank stretched his neck and clipped the tip of the nipple with his tongue. Then he moved his body over an inch or two and licked the areola. One of Mary Lou’s eyes opened.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. There was a flush of guilt, knotting in her stomach because she knew she would be betraying him in only a couple of hours. But at the same time, she wanted him to have happy memories of their time together. Besides which, Mary Lou was really, truly enjoying this moment.
Frank carried on, whirling around and around until he was flicking his tongue on the nipple itself and covered it with his lips and licked and sucked it until he heard Mary Lou start to breathe more deeply.
To encourage Frank to keep going, she wrapped a hand round the back of his head and dug her nails gently into his hair. The increase in tongue motion validated the decision. This started waves running up and down Mary Lou’s spine, so she scooped him up in her arms and a spare leg, rolling him on top of her.
She could feel his mouth on the self same breast as when she woke up and sensed one of his hands on the other breast, squeezing the nipple and stroking her body, poking a finger in her belly button and caressing her tattooed rose, occasionally catching the top of her pubes with his fingers. That happened once, then twice. On each occasion, she felt herself trying to stretch her body upwards so his fingers would go further down her, but it didn’t work. Instead, she decided to take a more direct approach.
“Don’t tease,” she said and pulled his fingers so they went inside her. She caught her breath slightly when his first finger touched the inside wall of her body, but he carried on, remembering the state they were in last night when the self same fingers were in the self same place.
By now, Mary Lou had taken her free hand and was busy caressing Frank’s ass, occasional stretching her fingers to reach under his groin and tickle his ball sack. He lowered his body ever so slightly to help her reach. And they carried on like this until the alarm went off.
“Damn. Goddamn!”
“Shoot.”
Frank pulled himself up and reached out to shut off the alarm. In doing so, he’d moved sufficiently up the bed for his dick to be right by Mary Lou’s head. She swiped her tongue on his shaft.
“Any other time, babe. Any other day... Sorry.”
“I know,” she replied and they both swung out of bed to face the new day.
Frank ran into the shower first and Mary Lou went through the bedroom, looking for personal items that needed to be thrown out or put into a carry bag she had from the time they’d been on that ill-fated job with Louis. With a quickly formed pile on the bed, Mary Lou could hear Frank was still in the shower. So she hopped into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain and joined him.
◆◆◆
First she scooped some soapy froth from his chest over his torso and on his arms and, stepping forwards, round to his back so the front of their bo
dies touched. Frank wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back with the soap so she was slippery and, leaning into her neck, he kissed her and reached down so his hand touched her buttocks and his fingers moved in between them. She moved her legs apart, ever so slightly, so his fingers could continue their journey inside her.
Mary Lou felt his dick hard against her rose. She pushed her hand in between their bodies until she could feel his helmet on her fingers and she raised her right leg to wrap around the back of his leg. This had the bonus of helping Frank’s fingers go deeper inside her. Then she moved his fingers out the way to make room for his helmet, which she rubbed against her until she popped him inside herself.
She felt both his hands on her ass and he hoisted her up so both her legs were wrapped around his body and he pushed his dick fully inside her. Leaning into her, so her back felt the cold of the tiles, he came quickly but he held back just about long enough so she came too - more by luck than by judgment, she reckoned. Over the last few months - and only then - Frank had begun to realize Mary Lou was an integral part of his life. That they truly were a couple: in a two-way relationship and not just a body to fuck when he wasn’t in jail.
After breakfast, Frank took one last look in his tool bag. Metal cutters, hammer, pincers. All sorts of things to get into vaults, safes and to persuade people to help him open them up. He kept his gun in his jacket where it could do most good.
Mary Lou and Frank kissed goodbye just before they left the apartment.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“You take care of yourself,” replied Mary Lou, “Remember that I love you.”
Mary Lou wanted to be the first to leave. She couldn’t face a real goodbye even though she knew this was the last time they would see each other. She missed him already and he was still standing in front of her.
“And I love you too,” said Frank quite honestly. He tapped her on the ass and she went downstairs to street level while he locked up and threw out a refuse sack.
She turned and walked down the stairs, not waiting for Frank to lock up. As she went down the steps, she wondered why she had uttered those last three words. And, more importantly, she wondered whether she meant them.
Twenty seconds later Frank walked briskly over to the underground parking lot and unlocked the van. He got in and turned the engine over. Nothing. The second time he tried, he pumped the gas pedal at the same time as twisting the key and the motor sparked into life.
44
Whipping the vehicle out of the lot, Frank saw the remnants of smoke that had exited Mary Lou’s exhaust seconds before, although she was nowhere to be seen.
He gunned the van down the street, kangarooing until he found fourth gear. While he didn’t feel that nervous under the circumstances, clearly there was some tension in his body and he reminded himself to stay totally focused in the moment at hand and not to let his mind wander to what was happening later in the day.
Left, then right, onwards, pushing his way through the commuter traffic with a steadfast concern to reach Andrew and Brian in good time. Frank was pleased he only had one pick up to do. The fact they shared an apartment was a good thing. There was a rumor about town they were queers but Frank didn’t give a shit either way. Andrew was a good, reliable guy and Brian had showed himself to be the same over the last year.
Frank reached their street and pulled in to park almost exactly outside their apartment door. Lucky. He honked the van’s horn twice and waited. Looking at his watch, he could see he was about ten minutes earlier than planned, but that was no bad thing. So much better to be early than late. True at a wedding, true on a bank job.
The two eventually showed up, sauntering out of the building and ambling to the van. This annoyed Frank, because he was hoping and expecting for some greater energy, today of all days.
They opened the back door of the van and got inside. First Andrew, then Brian. And as soon as he saw Brian was in, Frank hit the gas and they were off, leaving Brian to slam the door shut and for the pair of them to figure out how to sit down on the mattress in the back. In the front cabin, in the passenger footwell, was the gasoline they’d be using shortly to destroy the van once they’d left its usefulness all behind.
Zooming along the road, Frank focused on the route to Lansdowne and on keeping under the speed limit and avoiding the other vehicles. He’d practiced the journey in other cars Pete had supplied him over the last few weeks, even getting up at the crack of dawn to get used to the commuter traffic, which could get quite sticky on the entrance to the I-695 from Washington Boulevard. But there were no problems today. No hold ups whatsoever.
Frank took the van all the way to the lot behind the bank. This was an L-shaped space with the bank standing on the first leg with spaces nearby. The other leg was a right turn past the bank and fed the backs of a couple of other buildings on the street. He lurched the van to a halt and reversed into a parking space a couple of cars away from the bank, pointing outwards for a fast getaway - if needed. They’d arrived at the bank. Early. The planned ten minute wait in the bank parking lot looked more like thirty. All three sat, not making a sound, for a few minutes.
Frank looked at his watch and said: “I have eight thirty-five so I suggest we go for a walk or we’ll go stir crazy stuck in here for best part of thirty minutes.”
◆◆◆
Thoughts of never seeing Frank again stayed in Mary Lou's head as she walked away from him round the corner from the apartment and into the parking lot. Pete had done a good job of parking the convertible almost exactly where he said it would be. She popped the trunk and checked the C4 parcels were in the shopping bag Pete had promised would be there.
She got in, turned the engine over with one twist of the car key and headed out of the lot. Mary Lou checked in her rear view mirror but couldn’t see Frank or his van. So she headed off to Lansdowne, making sure she was always at least five miles per hour below the limit - even if it was an open road and no-one behind her. Just as Pete had instructed.
After about ten minutes behind the wheel, Mary Lou reached the Baltimore Public Library and its parking lot, which was two buildings up from the First Bank of Baltimore, Lansdowne branch.
Out the car and Mary Lou whipped the bag out of the trunk. She looked inside again and saw there was a block of plastic attached to a clock by a set of wires. The minute hand of each countdown clock was already set to eleven minutes. And straps were hanging from both sides of the plastic. All she had to do was flip the little switch on the side of the clock face and then it would go bang eleven minutes later. Simple.
Mary Lou trundled across the street to a telegraph pole, which was adjacent to the traffic lights opposite the bank. She bent down to pretend to tie her shoelaces and attached the straps to the base of the telegraph pole.
Then she moved onto the next pole on the other side of the street, right next to the bank. Again, damn those shoelaces, tie them up again. Another pole with an explosive at its base. So that meant that Hollins Ferry Road was set up to be wonderfully blocked except in the southbound direction.
Finally, she walked over to Third Avenue and repeated the same operation each side of the road. Now the telegraph poles were ready for the guys to leave the area.
All this setting of bombs was based on the false idea there was going to be a bank robbery by Frank and the guys whereas Mary Lou knew Carter was taking the money from right under their noses. Mary Lou reckoned the least she could do was to give them the best chance possible to get away from the scene even if they didn’t have anything to take with apart from their anger and disappointment.
◆◆◆
Mary Lou walked back and drove the hot rod to the bank just a few feet away. When she got into the parking lot, she could see it was split into two parts, one of which was right by the bank exit and the other half was round the corner.
She knew Pete and Frank would stop right by the entrance and that was the last place she should be - being seen would be the wor
st of all possible worlds for her. So Mary Lou drove round the corner and reversed into a space where she couldn’t see the bank door. If she couldn’t see the door then anyone hanging out near the door couldn’t see her. Carter would know to check out the whole of the lot because he’d mentioned to her, time and again, the complaints from Theresa and Bob about how hard it was to find a parking space right by the bank exit.
And then she waited for Carter...
And she waited. And waited. And nothing happened and no-one appeared. Mary Lou looked at the car clock. Where was he? He should have been in the car and they were meant to be well away from the bank before the damn thing opened.
She tried to think. Tried to think through what had happened and what options she had to play with. Okay. First of all, Carter hadn’t left the back door of the bank because he’d decided to go it alone and left by the Hollins Ferry Road front entrance and, because she was tucked into the back of the lot, she hadn't seen him leave. If that was true she needed to get out as soon as possible.
Secondly, Carter might have backed out of the deal and decided to stay put, in which case she needed to get the fuck out of here and hightail it over to the barn so she could stay with Frank. Carter might be the better man for her, but only if he could be relied on. If he was a flakey fucker, he was useless to her.
Frank was about to walk into the bank and at this point, there were only those two scenarios Mary Lou could think of that might have played out the other side of the bank wall.
Either way, it was time for her to get out of Dodge, because something was seriously wrong in the state of Maryland. She scorched out the lot without looking at the bank door and turned right. Mary Lou turned left onto the I-695 and, at the first exit, turned right onto the I-895 southbound. She could go to the barn or she could just keep going. It was nine eleven and she had no idea what she was going to do.
The Heist Page 22