‘It’s okay,’ he said to Bleck. ‘He’s dead.’
Thomas thought: not quite, pal. You’ll find that out in a moment. Nearly dead, but not quite. He forced his will to lift his gun hand and he felt the gun, like a ton weight, move slightly as Morgan moved into the open doorway of the truck.
Morgan’s gun was pointing at Thomas, but this was merely a precautionary measure. He was quite satisfied that Thomas was dead. No one with that ghastly smashed face and that colour could possibly be alive.
‘We’d better get him out of here and bury him,’ he said and looked at Bleck, who was leaning forward staring through the window of the door, the door pressed against him, looking at Thomas.
Thomas opened his eyes.
‘Look out!’ Bleck yelled and tried to get his gun up, but he was handicapped by the door pressing against him. Thomas squeezed the trigger of his gun as Morgan shot him. The two guns went off simultaneously, sounding like one.
Morgan’s bullet hit Thomas in the throat, killing him instantly.
Thomas’s bullet hit Morgan in the stomach, and he folded at the knees, falling into the cab, his face in Thomas’s lap.
Gypo gave a long, shuddering cry.
For a long moment Bleck remained frozen. Then he pushed the truck door against Morgan’s legs and squeezed himself between the door and the side of the caravan.
He leaned into the cab, pulling Morgan over on to his back.
Morgan looked at him, his eyes glazed.
‘It didn’t work out,’ he muttered, his voice so low Bleck could scarcely hear him. ‘Good luck, Ed. You’ll need it. You’ll all need it.’
Bleck straightened. He found himself thinking that if they ever did succeed in breaking into the truck, they would each have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars now, since, instead of five, there were only four left to share the loot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I
The cabin consisted of a bedroom, a sitting room, a tiny kitchen and a shower cabinet. It was pleasantly furnished with twin beds in the bedroom and two lounging chairs and settee in the sitting room. With a little improvisation, it was possible to sleep four there.
It had the advantage of being the most isolated cabin along the lake. It was the honeymoon cabin, the man in charge told Ginny with a knowing smile. They were lucky he could offer it.
The last couple who had had it only moved out last night. The man - his name was Hadfield - had got into the Buick with Ginny and Kitson and had directed them to the cabin. From time to time he glanced at Kitson, wondering why he looked so tense and why he scarcely spoke a word. He thought the guy was probably nervous, facing his first night as a husband, although why any man should feel nervous with a girl as pretty as this one, Hadfield couldn’t understand.
The girl was nervous too, but that was to be expected. All nice girls, Hadfield thought sentimentally, were nervous on their honeymoon and he couldn’t do enough for her. He showed her where she could park the caravan, right beside the cabin, and pointed out the boat house where they could hire a boat if they wanted one. He said they wouldn’t be disturbed.
‘Folks here are pretty sociable, Mrs. Harrison,’ he told her after he had unlocked the cabin and had shown her where everything was kept. ‘They drop in on each other, but I guess you two would like a little privacy, anyway for a day or two,’ and he winked at Kitson, who stared stonily at him. ‘I’ll pass the word around. You won’t be bothered until you are good and ready.’
There had been nothing the four of them could do until dark.
That had been the worst period of this eventful day for them.
Ginny had gone into the bedroom and had lain down on the bed. After a while she had dropped off into a sleep of exhaustion.
Kitson had remained on guard, smoking and keeping an eye on the caravan. Bleck and Gypo had been forced to remain in the caravan with the dead bodies of Morgan and Thomas for company. It had been a bad period.
When it was dark, Bleck and Gypo had come into the cabin. Gypo was in a bad way. He flopped into an armchair and hid his face in his hands. He had a big bruise on the side of his jaw where Bleck had hit him. There had been a time, when driving up to Fawn Lake, when Gypo had tried to break out of the caravan. He had started to yell and beat on the walls of the caravan. He had behaved as if he had gone off his head.
Bleck had had to hit him pretty hard. There was no other way of controlling him. When Gypo had come to, he had sat on the floor of the caravan, silent and limp. The eight long hours Bleck and he remained in the caravan, waiting for darkness with the windows shut tight to keep out the flies, had been an experience that neither of them was likely to forget.
Bleck and Kitson had gone into the dark wood to find a suitable place to bury Morgan and Thomas. Among the tools that Gypo had brought with him was a shovel, and finally, when they had found the spot, they took it in turns to dig.
They worked in silence and by the light of the moon. It was nervy work, because they could see boats out on the moonlit lake; they could hear voices in the distance, and once they had to crouch down, their hearts pounding, as a couple of lovers passed close to them.
It was after midnight before they patted the ground flat and carefully covered it with leaves and dead branches, and by that time, both of them were so exhausted they could scarcely get back to the cabin.
They found Ginny in an armchair, her .38 in her lap while she watched Gypo, who had fallen asleep on the settee.
Bleck shut the door. Then he crossed over to the second armchair and dropped into it.
Kitson sat on an upright chair. His face was the colour of cold mutton fat and there was a muscle in his cheek that kept twitching.
‘Any trouble?’ Bleck asked Ginny.
The girl was pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked older and less attractive, but her voice was steady when she said, ‘No, except he says he wants to go home.’
‘As soon as he’s opened the truck,’ Bleck said, ‘He can go to hell for all I care.’
At the sound of the voices, Gypo stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked around, then seeing the three watching him, he swung his legs off the settee and sat up, his face tightening, his hands beginning to shake.
‘Ed. I’m going to quit,’ he said, the words spilling out of his mouth. ‘You can have my share of the money. I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t want to have anything more to do with this job. I want you to have my share and let me go. If it hadn’t been for Frank, I wouldn’t have touched the job. He persuaded me. You three carry on if you want to, but I’m going back to the workshop.’
Bleck studied him.
‘I don’t think you are.’
Gypo rubbed his hands on his knees, sweat making his fat face glisten in the shaded light, ‘Now, look, Ed, be reasonable. I’m giving you my share. That’s a lot of money. I just want to go home.’
‘I don’t think you’re going,’ Bleck said in the same flat voice.
Gypo looked imploringly at Kitson.
‘Listen, kid, this job’s no good. We didn’t want to do it. Frank talked us into it. Let’s you and me go. These two can have all the money. You and me can work together. We can make a good living. You work with me in the workshop. We’ll get along fine together. honestly, we will.’
‘Skip it,’ Bleck said softly. ‘You’re staying and you’re opening the truck.’
Gypo shook his head.
‘No, Ed, I’ve got to go. I haven’t the nerve for this job. I’ll tell you how to open the truck. You and the girl can do it once you know how, but I’m not staying. There’s five hundred thousand dollars extra for you and for her. I give you my share. The kid will give her his share. We’ll go.’
Bleck looked at Kitson.
‘Do you want to quit?’ he asked.
Morgan’s violent end had stunned Kitson, but he was now recovering. The nightmare business of burying the two bodies had stiffened his fibre rather than undermined it. He knew he had reached t
he point of no return. He had everything to gain now and only his life to lose. Whether he wanted to or not, there was no question of quitting.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Listen, kid, you don’t know what you are saying,’ Gypo said desperately. ‘You’ve got to quit. You’ve got to come with me. It’s no good thinking you’re going to get away with this. It’s better to quit now. You come with me.’
‘I’m not quitting,’ Kitson said, his eyes on Ginny.
Gypo drew in a shuddering breath.
‘I am going,’ he said. ‘This is no good. Three men have died. No money is worth that. Frank said he was going to put the world in his pocket. Look what’s happened to him. He’s in a hole in the ground. Can’t you see? Can’t any of you see? It’s no good.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m going home.’
Bleck reached forward and took the .38 that was lying in Ginny’s lap. He pointed the gun at Gypo.
‘You’re going to open the truck, Gypo. If you don’t do it, I’ll kill you and bury you out there in the woods.’
The final, cold note in his voice convinced Gypo that he meant what he said.
For a long moment Gypo stood there, staring at the gun, then slowly, with a gesture of hopeless despair, he sat down.
‘Okay,’ he said, his face sagging, ‘you force me to stay, but I warn you nothing good will come of this. Nothing.’
Bleck put the gun down.
‘Have you quite finished sounding off?’ he asked.
‘I have nothing more to say,’ Gypo said, hanging his head. ‘I have warned you. Remember that. Nothing good will come of it.’
‘Well, now,’ Bleck said, looking at the other two, ‘we’ve got that settled. We’re now four. That means we each will have fifty thousand dollars more than we reckoned to have. We divide Frank’s share between us. We go on with the plan. Kitson, you and Ginny, play out the honeymoon angle. Gypo and I work in the caravan. As soon as we get the money, we split up. All agree?’
The other two nodded.
‘Okay.’ Bleck got to his feet, crossed the room and removed the key from the lock. He put it in his pocket. ‘Well, I’ve had all I want for tonight. I’m going to sleep.’ He went over to Gypo and gave him a nudge. ‘Take a chair, fatso. I reckon I’m entitled to the settee.’ He sat on the settee as Gypo moved wearily to the armchair. As he kicked off his shoes, he said to Kitson, ‘There’s a second bed in the other room for you, bridegroom. Help yourself.’
Kitson was too exhausted to rise to the bait. He stretched out in the armchair.
Ginny went into the bedroom and shut the door. They heard the key turn.
‘Tough luck, bridegroom,’ Bleck sneered and turned off the light. ‘Looks like she doesn’t fancy you.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Kitson growled.
II
Soon after seven o’clock the next morning, Ginny came into the sitting room and pulled the blinds, waking the three men.
Cursing, Bleck sat up abruptly, his hand groping for his gun.
Stupefied with sleep, Kitson raised his head and blinked at Ginny, as she walked into the kitchen.
Gypo, groaning with stiffness, leaned forward to nurse his sore jaw.
Ginny called, ‘It’s time you got under cover. There are people already on the lake.’
Bleck grunted and, getting up, he went into the bathroom. He came out ten minutes later, shaved and showered.
‘Go ahead and clean up,’ he said to Gypo. ‘You begin to smell like a polecat.’
Gypo looked dolefully at him and then went into the bathroom. By the time he had taken a shower, Ginny had carried a breakfast tray of coffee, eggs, ham and orange juice into the sitting room.
‘You’d better have it in the caravan,’ she said, thrusting the tray into Bleck’s hands.
An ugly gleam showed in his eyes.
‘Look, baby, I’m giving the orders around here now,’ he said, taking the tray. ‘I’m in charge of this outfit.’
Her eyes showed contemptuous amusement.
‘Nobody’s in charge,’ she said. ‘Even Morgan wasn’t. We work according to the plan. It was agreed you and Gypo should only come into the cabin at night, and you were to keep out of sight during the day. If you don’t want to stick to the plan, say so.’
‘Okay, smartie,’ Bleck said. ‘So we eat in the caravan. Sounds like you’re anxious to be alone with your boyfriend.’
Ginny turned and walked back into the kitchen.
‘You lay off her,’ Kitson said, getting to his feet.
‘Aw, button up!’ Bleck snarled, ‘go out there and see if anyone’s around, then open up the caravan.’
Kitson hesitated, then he went out into the sunshine. He looked to right and left, satisfied himself there was no one watching him, then he called to Bleck and opened the back of the caravan.
Bleck and Gypo got in.
‘You’re going to have it soft, plough boy,’ Bleck said, his eyes glittering. ‘You make hay while the sun shines.’
Kitson jerked the lever savagely, shutting the two men in the caravan, then he returned to the cabin.
Ginny was cooking more ham.
He went into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved, then put on a sweat shirt and a pair of cotton jeans. As he came into the sitting room, Ginny was putting a plate of ham and eggs on the table.
‘That looks good,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Is that for you or – or for me?’
‘I don’t eat breakfast,’ she said curtly, and pouring a cup of coffee, she carried it to the armchair and sat down, her back half turned to him.
Kitson sat down. He found he was hungry, and he began to eat, thinking how well the ham was cooked and the eggs were just as he liked them.
‘I guess we’d better get out after this,’ he said. ‘We might take a boat on the lake or something.’
‘Yes.’
He was disappointed that she sounded so curt.
‘It’s going to be pretty rugged for those two in the caravan,’ he said, hoping to get her talking. ‘There’s not much shade out there. By noon it’s going to be hotter than a stove.’
‘That’s their look out,’ she said indifferently.
‘Yeah. Do you think Gypo will open the truck?’
She made an impatient movement.
‘How should I know?’
‘Well, if he doesn’t, what are we going to do?’
‘Why ask me? Ask Bleck if you can’t work it out yourself.’
She got up abruptly, carrying her coffee cup and went into the kitchen.
Kitson felt his face burning. He suddenly didn’t want to go on with his breakfast, and grimacing, he finished his coffee, stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen.
‘Look, I didn’t mean to get on your nerves,’ he said as he laid the things on the table. ‘But we’ve got to be seen around together. Couldn’t we be a little less unfriendly? After all,’ he stopped, floundering.
‘For God’s sake, go into the other room and let me alone,’ she said, her back turned to him; her voice was shaking.
Shocked by her tone, Kitson moved around so he could see her. It was then he realized how pale and drawn she looked. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as she made out, he thought. This horrible business of yesterday could have given her a hell of a jolt, as it had him.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sorry,’ and he went into the sitting room and sat down, running his fingers through his hair. After a long moment of silence, he heard her crying. He didn’t move. The soft, scarcely heard sound underlined to him the hopelessness of this job. If she could cry over it, there could be no hope.
He sat there waiting and smoking and trying not to listen for some minutes, then abruptly she came out of the kitchen, and before he had a chance of seeing her face, she went into the bedroom.
Again there was a long pause, then she came to the doorway.
‘Let’s go,’ she said curtly.
He glanced at her.
Her make-up was flawless. Only the unnatural glit
ter in her eyes and the studied way she held herself hinted that she was under a strain.
He got to his feet.
‘We’d better get a newspaper,’ he said, careful not to look directly at her.
‘Yes.’
She walked across the sitting room to the door. She was wearing a lightweight sweater and a pair of bottle-green slacks. The combination showed off her neat, feminine figure as no other get-up could.
Kitson followed her into the sunshine.
As they stepped out of the cabin, the full heat of the morning sun struck them, and both looked across at the caravan that stood in the direct sunlight: both of them realized the heat that must be accumulating in the wooden structure.
They moved on, walking side by side, in silence.
There was a path through the woods that led to Hadfield’s office. Next to his office was a grocery store. As they came out of the shadows and into view of the wooden building, Ginny slipped her hand into Kitson’s. The feel of her cold flesh sent a tingle up his spine, and he looked quickly at her.
She gave him a ghost of a smile.
‘Sorry about the scene,’ she said. ‘My nerves are bad. I’m all right now.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I know how you must be feeling’ and he tightened his grip on her hand.
Hadfield came out of his office and beamed on them as they came up to him ‘Well, Mr. Harrison,’ he said and thrust out his hand. ‘I guess you’re a happy man. Don’t tell me. I can see it on your face. Me. I guess if I were Mrs. Harrison’s husband, I’d be as happy as you are.’
Ginny laughed as Kitson shook Hadfield’s hand awkwardly.
‘Why, thanks, Mr. Hadfield. That’s a real compliment,’ she said. ‘We’ve come for the newspapers. Are there any?’
‘Newspapers?’ Hadfield lifted his bushy eyebrows. ‘Honeymooners shouldn’t want to be bothered about newspapers. Sure, I’ve got this morning’s lot. I’ll tell you straight away, the only news of interest is this truck robbery.’ His good-humoured face split into a grin. ‘Between you and me, I hand it to those fellows. They’ve walked off with a cool million bucks. Imagine! A million bucks in cash! No one knows where they’ve got to or how they did it, but that’s what they’ve done. That truck with a lock on it the best modern brains could think up, and stuffed with dollars, has just vanished into thin air! It’s a knockout! Nothing like it has ever happened before.’ He pushed his hat to the back of his head, grinning at them. ‘When I read the account in the papers, I said to myself, that’s the smartest thing that’s ever happened around these parts for as long as I can remember. Vanished! Imagine! A truck that size with all the police and half the Army searching every road within a hundred miles of here, and still no sign of it.’
1958 - The World in My Pocket Page 15