by Peter Rabe
If they were interrupted anywhere along the line, it was every man for himself.
When the taxi made ready to turn off Van Nuys, Catell told the cabbie to stop. He got out, paid his fare, and walked five blocks to an address he hadn’t given the cabbie.
The house sat far back from the street, behind a wall, a stretch of trees, and an open lawn. The big place looked empty, but the door opened as soon as Catell came up the broad steps.
“To the rear, last door on the left,” said the maid who had opened the door. She was a maid only because that’s what the uniform said. For a regular maid her legs were too good, her face was too much like a doll’s, and her hair was too blonde.
Catell walked back. The room was a big, dark thing with leather chairs, carved tables, and a fireplace like a cave. A plaster stack of electric logs was plugged in there, giving off a steady red glow.
“You’re prompt, Catell. Sit down.” S. S. Smith waved his hand at Catell but stayed near the window, rocking on his heels.
When Catell sat down, the door opened again and two more men came in. One was a sullen kid with yellow hair and high cheekbones. The other was Topper. They sat down opposite Catell.
“Where’s Smiley?” Smith wanted to know.
“Haven’t seen him,” said the kid with the cheekbones.
Topper looked across at Catell and grinned. Catell nodded. There was no expression in his face.
Then Smiley came in. He opened the door and held it for the girl in the maid’s uniform. She carried a tray with five highballs, gave one to each of the men, and turned to go.
“But you just came, Rose,” Smiley said. He held her arm.
“Let her go. This is business.” Smith’s voice was cold.
“Aw, come on, S. S. Just to look at. You know, an ornament. I ain’t seen Rosie—”
“That’s enough, Smiley. And you may leave, Rose.”
They all held their highballs, not looking very comfortable, waiting for Smith to talk.
“You’ve gone over this deal enough times to do it in your sleep. If there are any questions, ask them now.”
Nobody asked anything.
“All right. You know your places, you know your schedule. Catell and Smiley to knock the place over; Swensen, you’re the lookout; Topper drives. I repeat this to make you understand one thing: Each has a job, one job and only one job. Do it, and the deal works. Muff it, and every other man is no better than a body minus a head. From now on, Catell takes over. His word goes for the rest of the operation. All right, Catell, it’s all yours.”
“There’s just a few things. Once we hit that car, I don’t want a lot of chatter. You know your jobs; there’s no need to talk. Until you get on your stations, keep clammed up. Swensen, don’t read a newspaper on your job. Looks too much like you got time to kill or just hanging around. And don’t smoke. Same reason. Topper, any cruising you do, drive normal speed. Don’t creep along, attracting attention, making it easy to remember you. Also don’t ever gun the car. No two-wheel turns or any crap like that. Smiley, I’ll talk to you once we’re inside. That’s all. Questions?”
No questions.
“All right, drink up and let’s go. You got fifteen minutes.”
Then they sat back and relaxed a little, but there wasn’t much to talk about. Swensen offered Catell a cigarette and they said a few words. Topper went to the garage, turned on the motor of the limousine, and left it running. Smiley excused himself and disappeared down the hall. Smith smoked a cigar.
“How’s it look to you, Catell?” Smith had walked over.
“O.K. Shouldn’t be bad.”
“Good. Think you can keep on schedule?”
“Should. If the dope on the safe is right.”
“Good. All right, everybody. Time. Where’s Smiley?”
Smith walked to the door when Smiley stepped in.
“Where the hell you been?”
“Time, S. S., I been making time.”
When the four men passed through the front hall, Rose came the other way. Her apron was on crooked and her dress looked as if it didn’t fit any more.
The kid who was going to be the lookout said, “They call him Smiley just to be polite. His real name is Mink. You get it, Catell? Mink.” He laughed with a short, dry cackle.
Nobody talked on the way to San Pedro. Topper smoked one cigarette after another, drove the car well, and paid no attention to Catell, who was sitting beside him. Catell’s suitcase was between his legs. When they cased Ruttger the first time, they didn’t see anybody except a few pedestrians. When they drove past Maxim’s the second time, there were a few pedestrians again. One of them had been there the first time.
“Slow down,” Catell said.
“The time schedule—”
“Shut up, you sonofabitch, and slow down.”
The short guy near Maxim’s was the Turtle.
“Pull over.”
“If you say so, Catell, but—”
Catell’s left hand snapped across Topper’s Adam’s apple, making the man gasp with pain.
“Do only what you’re told, Topper. Now pull up.” The gun was in Catell’s hand.
Catell opened the window and leaned out. When the Turtle came up, Catell said, “Wait for me two blocks down, fifteen minutes. All right, Topper, get going.”
The rest of the drive went on schedule. Topper drove well, kept to himself. He looked bland.
When Catell came to the corner, the Turtle fell in with him. They walked, nodding and smiling at each other, and sometimes waving an arm.
“What’s up, Turtle?”
“I don’t know, Tony. I’m not sure. Christ, I’m sorry if I muffed something for you, but I couldn’t get to you sooner. I knew you’d get here today, but I couldn’t—”
“Whaddaya mean, couldn’t get to me sooner?”
“Since that time at the Pink Shell I had a time shaking a couple of guys who was after me. Christ, did I have a time! Coupla Topper’s men, on accounta that snatch I pulled on him, I think.”
“That all?”
“Something else. I picked up a word something was cooking with you and Topper, so I tried to follow it up. Christ, did I have a time, with those torpedoes on my tail!”
“Hurry up, Turtle, what else?”
“I don’t know for sure, Tony. Something about Topper getting to you. I couldn’t get the details.”
“Never mind. He got to me. That was yesterday. Now blow. I’m turning off here.”
“No, Tony, that wasn’t it. Yesterday wasn’t it. I know he took you for a ride, but the word is there’s a cross on.”
“Frame?”
“Could be, Tony. Listen, this heist—”
“It’s coming off as planned. Don’t argue. When I cross over now, keep walking to the end of the block. Stay there. After ten minutes, take the other end of the alley next to Maxim’s loans. After twenty minutes, the other end of Ruttger. Watch for Topper and the sedan two blocks down at nine. That’s nine sharp, Turtle. He’ll pull up here ten minutes later. Got it?”
“Check.”
“See the kid in the doorway, reading the billboard? He’s our lookout. Now blow.”
The Turtle kept walking down the block and Catell crossed to the alley. He turned once and looked at Swensen. Catell pointed with his finger at the Turtle, then made a circle with thumb and forefinger. Swensen nodded. Then Catell was at the side door and turning the handle. No hitch. The door opened and Catell stepped inside. For two minutes he stood in the dimness without moving. Then Smiley came in. They stood another five minutes, close to the door. Half a foot away, on a wooden railing that ran from the side of the door to the middle of the large room, there was a chalk cross. The two men dropped to the floor and lay flat on their backs. Pushing with hands and heels, they snaked their way along the railing, away from the door. Once past the chalk cross, they got up and walked.
“That eye was close to the door.” Smiley was whispering. “Did you see it?”
&n
bsp; “No. Just the cross. Good job. I guess we beat it through. Nothing happened.”
Just before they reached the large safe door, built flush into the wall, they saw the second electric eye This one didn’t need a marker. The post with the light and lens stood two feet from the wall to the left of the safe; the post with the photoelectric cell was opposite, on the right of the safe.
“Man, that’s close.” Smiley wiped his forehead.
Catell was sweating too. He had been dragging the heavy suitcase and the hand with the sore was throbbing. He didn’t know whether he was nervous about the job, but he didn’t feel so good. Almost feverish.
“That eye’s too close, Smiley.”
“You’re telling me! The diagram said eight feet.”
“That’s what comes from not doing your own casing. That jerk who mapped this layout is going to be one sorry-looking bastard.”
“Whatcha gonna do?”
“I gotta figure this. It’s risky, but I could work inside two feet. No good, though. Once that door falls, the beam’s cut.”
“Jee-sus!”
“Open that bag, Smiley.”
“O K. Now what?”
“There’s a pencil flashlight in the pocket. Take it out. Now turn it on. Got it? The button, stupid, the little button. Now step close to the eye, point the light at it, and slip the flashlight up in line with the beam. But be ready to run, Smiley. I’m going to cut my hand through the beam back here, and if you hear a click in that thing, bolt! Understand? Fast now, go!”
Smiley slipped the flashlight in line with the eye fast, but steady. Nothing happened.
“Hold it now, Smiley. Here I go,” and Catell swung his hand through the beam from the post
They listened tensely, Catell feeling the cold sweat run down his back. He shivered. No click.
“Once more, Smiley. Here goes.”
Catell stepped into the beam. No click.
“It works. Now listen, Smiley. You’ll have to hold that thing from here on. I don’t care if your hand drops off, but keep that light steady.”
“Got you, Catell. Get to work, and good luck.”
Catell pulled his tools closer and laid them out in a small half circle. After a swift study of the door, he changed his mind about the hinges and went to work on the tumblers. He stuck chisels, hammer, and probes in his pocket. Then, standing close to the door, he went to work on the lock with a drill.
“Keep looking out the window now and then, Smiley.”
Catell worked without pause.
“How’s your arm?”
“Dead. You getting anywhere?”
“Little more. Just keep that light steady.”
After a while Catell put the drill down and used the chisels. The lock cover and a few disks came off. Then he went to work on the tumblers. Catell’s movements were deft, sure, but he kept shaking his head.
“How’s the arm?”
“Let’s not talk about it. What I wanna know is are we gettin’ anywhere?”
“I’m fixing the tumblers. It’s going O.K.”
“Whyn’t ya use the soup?”
“And trip the alarm? This job wasn’t laid out that way.”
“Well, they tell me you know your stuff. But when you’re through, don’t pat me on the shoulder. My arm might drop off.”
“Not much longer, Smiley. Keep it up.”
There was silence for a while. Catell, working mostly by touch, started to swear under his breath.
“What’s eatin’ ya?”
“This whole goddamn job was laid out wrong. That’s what comes from not doing your own casing. Whose cockeyed idea was it to burn this door through, anyway? This job should have been done by rewiring the alarms, cutting in on the timing circuit, and then knocking the safe over any way at all. But this horsing around with a live alarm contact—How’s your arm?”
“What arm?”
“Anyway, looking at this place now, I would’ve knocked it over in the daytime, somehow.”
“And shoot the place up? That’s old-time stuff, Catell.”
“Not the way I do it. Uh, I think—Here she comes, Smiley!”
There was a last click inside the tumbler chamber and then Catell spun the wheel. The large bolts slid back into the door with an oily swish, making the door swing free on its hinges. Catell jumped fast, catching the door before it swung out of its frame.
“That goddamn live contact. That sonofabitchin’ live—”
He leaned against the door, sweating. “And this lousy door couldn’t have been hung straight. No, they had to hang it so it swings open.”
“Whatcha gonna do now, Catell?”
“I’ll yank that desk over, to hold the door. Then I’ll try burning part of the flange so I can slip through the crack and get that contact. And it better be where they said it was. Else we could be burning around here all night.”
“How in hell you gonna get a desk without that door swinging open on you?”
“Yeah, how? I’ll stay close up to the door. You move out of the beam and get the desk. That’ll spell you, too. How’s that?”
“Fine. Aren’t ya gonna ask can I move my arm?” Cautiously Smiley got out of the way of the beam.
“One more thing, Smiley. If it clicks, jump and we open the safe as is. We’ll grab some lettuce and the hell with that door alarm. I figure we’re safe for about four minutes. O.K.?”
“O.K.”
No click.
Smiley got up, groaning, rubbing his arm.
“What time is it?” Catell asked.
“Eight-forty-five. Can you make it in time?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
A few minutes later Smiley had edged a desk up to the beam, and Catell, still leaning against the safe door, was getting down to the floor to pull the desk up close. Smiley was starting to maneuver the flashlight into line with the photoelectric cell.
“Tell me when,” Catell said.
“There’s a guy by the front windows,” Smiley said.
“Stay put. May be nothing.”
The shadow against the window moved away while the two men lay on the floor, immobile.
Then the side door opened. It opened fast and shut fast.
“Relax, Tony. Turtle speaking.”
“Stay where you are.”
It was dark enough in the large office so that distant objects were hard to make out.
“How much change in my pocket, that first day in the bar?”
“Ninety-eight cents.”
“O.K., Turtle, but don’t move. They got electric eyes up.”
“Tony, something’s up.”
Smiley’s hand with the flashlight made a short jitter.
“Topper didn’t show up, Tony. I waited four minutes, no car, no Topper.”
“What is this?” Smiley’s voice was shaky.
“You sure, Turtle?”
“Positive. Two blocks down, no car, four minutes late.”
“A frame! Smiley, move out of the beam and beat it. I’ll hold the safe till you get to the door. Go!”
In the silence of the dark room there was only the harsh breathing of Catell, leaning against the safe, and the sound of Smiley scraping across the floor where the other electric eye was.
They came in from all sides. Four of them burst through the front door, scattering behind desks and balustrades; four others swarmed through the side door, knocking the Turtle into the beam of the eye, stumbling over Smiley, who was still on the floor.
The alarm went off. The big bell over the front entrance started a dull rattle, getting sharper all the time. The wedge in the bell wasn’t holding. The men at the side door had grabbed Turtle and Smiley, and a voice from the front yelled, “Hands up and walk out slow. The whole place is sealed.”
Somebody flipped a switch, but the lights didn’t go on.
Catell rolled away from the safe into the shadows of the back, and the safe door swung open slowly. There was a moment’s complete silence as the light
from inside the safe grew with the movement of the door. Then shots. Twice, four times.
“Cut it out, up front! We got two of them here.”
“Parker, that you?”
“Yessir. We got two here. Wait’ll we get the light.”
“They don’t work.”
“Down, everybody. Here comes the flashlight.”
One beam cut through the darkness, then two, three.
“Parker?”
“Yessir.”
“You and Litvinoff take the prisoners outside. Lobos, bring a flood through the side. Chester, you get one from the front. The rest stay down.”
They flooded the place with light, finding tools, Smiley’s cigarette stub, an empty suitcase, a desk moved out of place, and the safe open. Then they gathered outside to look at the prisoners.
“We got these two, and one from across the street.”
“Find anyone else inside?”
“Well, there were only supposed to be three.”
“Guess this is them.”
“What’s your name?”
“I wanna see my lawyer!”