That Old Gang Of Mine

by Leslie Thomas

  'Robbery,' put in Brace quickly but quietly. 'That's what we had in mind. Robbery.'

  Ari's nose was trembling all over his face. 'And just to get a pair of reading glasses! So you can see the bad news in the newspaper. They charge you ...' He braked. 'What did you mention, son? Robbery, you said?'

  'Sure, robbery, that's what I said,' nodded Bruce. 'I said robbery.'

  'Robbery,' confirmed Ossie from the other side.

  'And kidnapping.'

  'Hold-ups.'

  'Burglaries.'

  'Frauds.'

  'Extortion.'

  For once Ari was silent. His mouth opened and shut a few times.

  'Ari,' said Bruce patiently. 'We're thinking of forming a select group of the people around here.'

  'Like a gang?' nodded Ari with unusual accuracy.

  'Okay, a gang. There'll be Ossie and me and maybe half a dozen of your generation. Four guys and two old ladies, or three and three. We'll work on the details. We use hoods and gloves. We pick off selected targets in the South Florida region. A break-in here, a hold-up there. You know the sort of things.!

  'But no violence. We'll avoid violence.'

  'Yeah, you need to avoid violence if you figure on getting your gang from these parts,' said Ari practically. 'Half the poor bastards can't stand up.'

  'We've got to pick carefully,' put in Bruce. 'Hand selected.

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  They've got to be fit.' He waited, then added pointedly, 'Like you, Ari.'

  The nose turned towards him like the bow of a ship turning to port. The Mediterranean eyes were sharp. 'You want me, me, to get myself mixed up in this?' he said accusingly. 'Me? Say I got caught and put in prison. I can't afford that kind of time, son. Jeez, even probation would be a life sentence to somebody my age.'

  'There's money in crime,' encouraged Ossie.

  'There is,' agreed Ari. 'I'm going in for blackmail. Twenty bucks or I tell the cops.'

  'And it gives you something to do,' emphasized Ossie. 'You can't just go on running all your life.'

  'But I just run on the beach and down the street,' Ari pointed out innocently. I ain't got no highway patrol up my ass. Mine's legal running.' He glared at them, but with a touch of uncertainty. 'The whole thing's crazy,' he muttered.

  'Listen Ari,' said Ossie. 'You're a guy of action. You can do things. You may be sixty but you can do things. But what do you do! Tell me that, what do you do down here on South Miami Beach?'

  T run,' said Ari predictably. 'And son, while I'm running I'm living.'

  'Sure. But you ain't running nowhere. And you ain't living nohow. Don't you feel like a little excitement now and then? Don't you kinda feel that you'd like to use yourself ... ?'

  'Sure, sure,' agreed Ari gently. 'But there's business and there's business. Why don't you give the teeth a whirl. There's not many folks satisfied with their teeth. There's real good money in ...'

  'Robbery,' said Bruce again. 'Nothing violent or unpleasant. Just now and then a neat little robbery and get out quick, back here to Ocean Drive. And that's the beauty of it. The cops will never guess that the operators come from down here. Like you say, most of the people have trouble standing up. It's a perfect cover.'

  'And what will you guys do? Wait for the old folks at home?'

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  'Aw, Ari, would we?' Ossie was pained. 'We'll be right there with you. We'll plan it all and we'll be there. You've got people down here with plenty of cool, and they're fit even if they're old, and they've got experience in a million things.'

  'Not many in robbing,' pointed out Ari. 'Anyway, what experience do you guys have? What crime experience?'

  The young men looked shamefaced. Neither replied for a moment, then Loose Bruce looked up and said: 'Not much. We'll come clean about that. Not a big deal.'

  'I once slugged a guy straight through a bar window,' admitted Ossie.

  'And I used to steal my mother's clothes and sell them,' muttered Bruce.

  'For Chrissake,' said Ari in mock admiration. 'That's sure powerful stuff.'

  'What about you?' asked Bruce shrewdly.

  Ari looked reminiscent. 'Well I naturally ain't told anybody about it, but I used to steal horseshoes in Chicago. When I was a boy. Steal them and sell them.'

  'Not exactly Dillinger's scene,' said Bruce.

  'You asked me what I'd done. And a little bootlegging down here in these parts in the Prohibition days.' He smiled fondly at the memory. 'They was good times. I made some dough too. Everybody knew Ari the Greek then.'

  'If you could have some more good times,' suggested Ossie, 'you could be Ari the Greek again.'

  Ari's wide mouth spread in a grin beneath the parapet of his nose. 'Well, I guess it might be interesting. And I ain't busy just now. And if they catch me and give me twenty years I'll cheat by dying. Okay, you got a deal.'

  Delighted, Bruce and Ossie shook the old Greek's hand. 'Right,' whispered Bruce. 'Now we need you to recruit the others. You know the fittest and the people who might be interested around these parts. Just draw up a list and we'll take a look at each one, then you can move in. Then when we've got the gang we've got to get the guns.'

  Ari's face contracted against his nose. 'Guns? You said no violence.'

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  'Okay. Right, no violence. But you got to have guns, Ari. You got to be fierce, otherwise there's no point. Who ever heard of a gang without guns?'

  Sidewalk Joe was sitting in his usual place in the shade of the giant calendar. He was dealing the cards but like the other old men around the table he could not resist a sidelong glance at the concrete reminder that while he played poker his days were numbered. The big square said it was 17 January, the time was 10.46 a.m. and the temperature was seventy-six and climbing. It was going to be the usual day on South Miami Beach.

  'Morry,' said Joe, looking at a piece of paper at his elbow. 'As of this moment you owe eighty-six.' He was wearing his light brown suit, a homburg and spats over his black boots.

  Morry nodded agreement over his cards. Joe ran a strong finger down the paper. 'And Charlie. You're down seventy-one. Benny you owe just thirty.' He added the totals carefully with some satisfaction. 'That's one hundred and eighty-seven cents altogether, which according to my calculations is one dollar, eighty-seven cents.'

  'This game could hit the roof,' muttered Benny. 'All that dough.' He whistled softly and shook his head.

  Joe said: 'Okay, let's play.'

  The sun travelled across the populated lawns, snaking between the sea-grape trees. Someone began to pluck on a Jew's harp. He played it well and some of the old people smiled in memory and rocked their heads gently to the faraway tune. The grass area was filling up as the folks converged on it from the hotels, all carrying their square canvas chairs. Some pigeons and a clutch of seagulls waited patiently in two groups for well-wishers who they knew would soon come to feed them on scraps rescued from early morning trash cans. A family of Florida sparrows sat separately but also expectantly. Lonely people often befriended birds.

  Mrs Blum, ready to make her first suicide bid of the week, was sharply disappointed to see that the familiar grey-haired and handsome young beachguard had been replaced in the watchtower by a large plain woman. She vowed to complain to the authorities. It would be no fun being rescued any more.

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  Ari the Greek sat carefully in the shade watching Sidewalk Joe and the others crouched over their poker game. Mrs Blum plodded by him bulging from her many coloured swimsuit and muttering disconsolately. On the beach he could see the solitary searcher Molly Mandy stepping slowly, her metal detector held out before her oddly like a reverse dog on a lead.

  They had made out a list, Ari, Bruce and Ossie, a dozen names of which they had eliminated seven for various reasons such as arthritis, bad eyesight and liability to panic under fire. The names remaining were Ari himself, Sidewalk Joe, Lou the Barbender, K-K-K-Katy and Molly Mandy.

  Ari knew better than to break up Sidewalk Joe's poker school,
as he sat peacefully in his raft of shade while it changed course with the sun's journey through the bright sky. After an hour Joe rose from his collapsible chair and carrying it with him (everybody carried their small chair when they moved even if it were only a few yards) he approached Ari. As he had been sitting with his back to Ari this impressed the Greek a good deal.

  'How d'yer know I was looking for you, Joe?' asked Ari moving up to make a piece of shade available.

  Joe opened his little chair and occupied the shade. 'I got the scent of you, Ari,' said Joe. I just felt you was in this area.'

  They sat, like the two elderly men they were, looking out at the people and the ocean. Joe nodded towards the seabirds sitting watching the people, taking turns to curve off for a noisy white flight in the blue. 'Bay-gulls,' said Joe. 'Jewish seagulls.'

  'So I hear,' replied Ari amiably.

  'I hear things too,' said Joe. 'I heard things and I see things.'

  Ari looked at him with a mixture of alarm and admiration. 'You do, Joe? That's smart. Very smart. And what about do you do this seeing and hearing?'

  'Who's the two young guys?' asked Joe. 'Like I see them at the dance. Like I see them in earnest session with you in Flamingo Park. Like they look like guys do when they're working something out, when they're looking for action. I seen it all before. What they planning? Robbing the Social Security? I don't mind. The Social Security been robbing me for years."

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  Ari nodded admiringly. 'I knew you couldn't lose the nose.'

  Joe glanced at him. Beneath the homburg peered deep blue eyes. His age sat quietly on him. 'You couldn't lose your nose either Ari. Christ, that's some nose you got.'

  'From a Jew that's a compliment,' nodded Ari. 'But I was not speaking of the physical organ of the nose. I was talking about the way you smell things out. Like situations.'

  'What's the deal? I was getting bored playing poker for pennies.'

  'I figured that. We wondered if you'd be interested in joining a little business hustle. Just a quiet heist or two. No violence.'

  'These two guys. They want somebody to do their dirty work,' guessed Joe. 'Innocent old men.'

  'They'll be right there,' promised Ari. 'And it's splits. Not the Federal Bank. Just pee-wee league stuff. It'll be great, Joe. Just like the old days for you.'

  'In New York City,' murmured Joe, his bright eyes clouding sentimentally. 'They was good times, Ari. Forty years ago now. Good times. I worked with three gangs who got wiped out, all except me. Real good times.' He returned to the present. 'But not now, old friend. I couldn't do that now. I ain't stole nothing in years. Only the usual things, fruit, bread and that sort of material.'

  Ari moved closer in the shade. The gulls were disturbed by a dog and whirled around the heads of the people, screaming abuse. Before Ari could speak Joe became engrossed with the birds. 'Barbecued gull,' he said. 'Now that could be a great idea. Catch 'em and cook 'em.'

  'Oily,' said Ari. 'Kosher maybe, but oily.'

  'I was just dreaming,' said Joe. 'So you want me to join the operation? Who else is on the payroll?'

  'I got to keep that a secret until the gang is all got together. You understand that now, don't you? I have a feeling you're interested, Joe.'

  'Sure I'm interested. I get weary taking cents off these millionaires. But I don't want to shoot anybody. Got that. I'm too old to kill people. That's for the birds.'

  'No shooting,' said Ari sincerely. 'That's already in the rules and regulations. But we got to have guns because it won't look

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  like we mean business without guns. You can't hold-up a mail truck with a wooden leg can you?'

  'Right. No. That figures. Okay, I'm in.' He stood and folded his chair. Ari shook Joe's hand warmly. Joe looked around cautiously. 'Take it easy, Greek,' he said. 'Cut out the warm friendship stuff. When people see a Jew and a Greek shaking hands they know something suspicious is likely.'

  Ari swallowed and then grinned and said loudly, 'Thank you, thank you sir, for your generous contribution to the Orthodox Church.'

  'Great,' muttered Joe sourly. 'I can see I'm going to enjoy working with you.' Joe returned to the poker school and Ari walked through the people towards the ocean, deep green and blue embroidered with a double cuff of surf. An old compatriot tried to waylay him to tell of his boyhood in the Peloponnese, but Ari had heard it eight times already and had excused himself, leaving the old man looking thoughtfully around for someone else to tell.

  Down on the sand, a patient figure in the sun, Molly Mandy dowsed for treasure. The metal detector swung easily, regularly, in front of her, her ears enveloped and engrossed in the earphones. Ari eased himself over the parapet wall and walked towards her. She did not detect him until he was a few yards away. Then she heard the metal lace-holes of his shoes. 'You ain't running, Ari,' she said surprised. 'You tired of living?'

  'Today I made it early, real early,' said Ari. 'Because I got business.'

  She took the earphones away from her head and handed them generously to him. 'Just listen in to that,' she invited. 'I guess you can fit your ears in. It's a good thing you don't listen through that nose.'

  Good-humouredly Ari acknowledged the remark and put the earphones to his head. Molly Mandy moved the detector to and fro on the beach. Ari launched a slow, big smile. 'I like it,' he said. 'It's beautiful. Just beautiful.'

  'Like the music of the stars,' she said sweetly. 'And folks ask me what pleasure I get from this? Sure I find things - but also it makes lovely music' Ari returned the earphones to her. He hesitated, dug his toes

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  in the sand and said: 'Molly, I got something to ask you. A couple of years ago, I hear, you found some guns buried down here on the beach.'

  'Right,' she replied readily. 'Lots of guns. I still have them in my room. Would you like to see them?'

  'I would, Molly,' said Ari gratefully. 'I sure would.'

  four

  Lou the Barbender was worried. He walked, bowed, along Washington Avenue, a large man among the smaller old folk on the sidewalk. He wondered whether he ought to spend a dollar on a blood pressure check but he dismissed the notion. He liked to be lifting a weight or bending some iron at the time they took the pressure but that always drew a crowd and today he did not feel like a crowd.

  Some days he met K-K-K-Katy in a steamy coffee shop along the avenue, a favourite with many of the South Miami folk because although the air conditioning was not efficient, it had daily bargains in food. He was heading that way now. He wondered how Katy would take to the idea of becoming a criminal so late in life.

  The bargain of the day was unexciting. The owner had painted across the window 'Spavlov's do it again! Today's great Special: Rice, Noodles and Chicken, now with free bread!'

  Katy had ordered the special. The waiter came back with the plate and recited. 'Rice, Noodles and Chicken. Now with free bread.' He put the plates down.

  T know, I know,' sighed Lou. 'Spavlov's have done it again. Free bread for God's sake. What d'you want? That my eyes should sparkle?'

  'S-S-Something's happened,' said Katy when the man had

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  grumbled at people who bit the hand that fed them and gone off. 'I can tell, Lou, b-baby. What's gone on? Maybe a bar you couldn't bend?'

  'It's serious,' Lou told her. 'Very and most serious. I have to put a straight proposition to you, Katy.'

  T-T-This is i-i-it,' said Katy to herself. Curiously she often stuttered when talking to herself. 'M-m-marriage.'

  'What could that b-b-b-be, honey?' she inquired, leaning over her rice. The free bread fell from the plate but she deftly caught it before it hit the floor.

  'It could change your life, and mine,' said Lou. His face was large with emotion. 'For ever and ever.'

  'It often does,' she said girlishly. 'But we won't mind.' She wondered if she ought to do a few high kicks. She felt like it. Old people are just young people with nothing to lose. They often feel free to be eccentric. Katy g
ot up and did three high kicks in the coffee shop. Lou and most of the other customers watched her passively then, when she had sat down again, he leaned towards her.

  'Can I interest you in joining a gang?' he said bluntly.

  'A g-g-g-gang?' She was as astounded as she was disappointed. 'I thought you were asking me to marry you, Lou.'

  'I will, I will,' he said as if the matter had been settled long before. 'But this is a different question. We've been invited to join a gang. You and me.'

  'A gang?' she almost shouted and he put a heavy hand on her mouth. Her eyes revolved and he released her.

  'Like Al Capone. That kind. But older folks.'

  'And what's it for?' she whispered.

  'What gangs are for. Robbing, kidnapping and such activities.'

  'Gee, it sounds exciting. But who's asked? Somebody crazy? I don't want to join if the man is crazy.'

  'Ari,' said Lou. 'You know him, the Greek. The guy who runs in those little pants.'

  'He's got a gang? He don't look like he's got a gang.'

  'He's collecting one. Well, he's the front man see. There's two young guys behind it. They figure it will give some of the more active people around here something to do.'

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  'It sure sounds nice,' said Katy seriously. 'But I wouldn't like to break the law.'

  'Gangs have to break the law,' said Lou patiently. 'That's why they're gangs.'

  'I see. Yes, that's logical I guess. But I don't enjoy the sight of blood. If it was a different colour it wouldn't be so bad. Like pale blue. So I couldn't guarantee to shoot anybody, Lou. I just couldn't see myself doing it. Not unless I really didn't sympathize with them.'

  'There's no violence planned,' said Lou. 'None planned, I said. But in the gang business it could develop. It just could. That's why they asked me. I'm strong.'

  'But why me? I'm just a little old lady.'

  'You're a girl,' he said suddenly softly. Their eyes met and she blushed and laid her shapely hand on his.