Eight Black Horses

by Ed McBain

  ‘Hey, you,’ somebody said.

  His blood froze.

  He turned.

  A huge guy was standing near the iron-runged steps leading to the second floor. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and a pistol was hanging in a shoulder holster on his chest.

  ‘While you’re here,’ he said, ‘the buttons on my phone ain’t workin’. The extension buttons. Upstairs in the squadroom.’

  ‘I’ll take a look,’ Henry said. ‘You know where the primary terminal is?’

  * * * *

  The sixth letter from the Deaf Man arrived in that afternoon’s mail.

  It was addressed to Carella, but Carella was out of the squadroom, and all the detectives knew it was from their old pal, so they debated opening it for about thirty seconds, and then nominated Meyer as the person to intrude upon their colleague’s right to private communication.

  There was, to no one’s great surprise, a single folded white sheet of paper inside the envelope.

  Meyer unfolded the sheet of paper.

  The other detectives crowded around him.

  What they were looking at was:

  * * * *

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thanksgiving Day always fell on the fourth Thursday in November, and this year it would fall on November 24.

  Every detective on the squad wanted Thanksgiving Day off. On Christmas or Yom Kippur it was possible for detectives of different faiths to swap the duty so that they could celebrate their own holidays. Thanksgiving Day, however, was nondenominational.

  The detectives of the Eight-Seven knew of a squad farther uptown that had an Indian detective on it. An Indian Indian. Come Thanksgiving, he was in very popular demand because he had come to this country only four years ago—after having served as a captain of police in Bombay—and he did not understand the peculiar ways of the natives here, and he did not celebrate Thanksgiving. Everyone always wanted him to take the Thanksgiving Day duty because he didn’t know lamb chops from turkeys and cranberry sauce.

  There were no Indian detectives on the 87th Squad.

  There was a Japanese detective, but he’d been born here and knew all about Thanksgiving, and no one would have dreamed of asking him to forego his turkey dinner.

  Genero asked him to forego his turkey dinner.

  ‘You’re a Buddhist, ain’t you?’ Genero said.

  ‘No, I’m a Catholic,’ Fujiwara said.

  ‘This is a nondeterminational holiday,’ Genero said.

  ‘So what’s your point?’

  ‘My point is I got the duty tomorrow,’ Genero said, ‘and I’d like to swap with you.’

  ‘No,’ Fujiwara said.

  ‘You people don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, do you?’ Genero said, ‘Buddhists?’

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ Fujiwara said.

  Genero figured he was sensitive about being the only Jap on the squad.

  Genero asked Andy Parker if he would like to swap the Thanksgiving Day duty with him.

  ‘You got no family to eat turkey with,’ Genero said.

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ Parker said.

  Genero tried Kling.

  ‘You just been through a divorce,’ Genero said. ‘Holidays are the worst time of year for people just been through a divorce.’

  Kling merely looked at him.

  Genero figured everybody on this goddamn squad was all of a sudden getting very touchy.

  The cops working the day shift on November 24 were Genero, O’Brien, Willis, and Hawes. Genero was annoyed because his mother’s big Thanksgiving Day dinner was at two o’clock. The other three detectives didn’t mind working on Thanksgiving Day. Like Genero, they were all single, but they’d made plans for later on in the day. Hawes, in particular, was very much looking forward to the plans he’d made for later on in the day; he had not seen Annie Rawles for almost a week.

  ‘Don’t any of you guys have mothers?’ Genero asked, still sulking.

  The detectives on duty were thankful that there’d be no mail deliveries today.

  They had not heard from the Deaf Man since the fourteenth, ten days ago. They all hoped they would not hear from him ever again. But they were certain they would not hear from him today. As they ate the turkey sandwiches they had ordered from the local deli, they thanked God for small favors.

  * * * *

  The two men sitting at a corner table in a restaurant not ten blocks from the police station were eating turkey with all the trimmings. They were drinking the good white wine ordered by the one with the hearing aid in his right ear. They were talking mayhem.

  ‘How’d you get onto me in the first place?’ Gopher Nelson asked.

  He’d been nicknamed Gopher during the Vietnam War. His first name was really Gordon. But he’d been a demolitions man back then, and whenever there was any kind of discussion as to whether it was feasible to blow up a bridge or a tunnel or a cache of Cong supplies, Gordon would say, ‘Let’s go for broke,’ which is how he got the name Gopher. Nothing was too difficult or too risky for Gopher back then. A chopper would drop him and his gear in the boonies someplace, and he’d sneak into a deserted enemy enclave and wire the place from top to bottom and then sit in the jungle waiting for the little bastards in their black pajamas to come trotting back in. Little Gopher Nelson, all by himself in the jungle, waiting to throw the switch that would blow them all to smithereens. Gopher loved blowing up things. He also loved setting things on fire. In fact, Gopher thought back most fondly on the incendiary devices he had wired back then. There’d been something very satisfying about first seeing the flames and all them fuckin’ gooks running for their lives, and then hearing the explosions when the fire touched off the ammo in the underground bunkers, all them fuckin’ tunnels they’d dug clear across the country. Very satisfying. First you got your roast gook, and then you got the Fourth of July. Gopher wished the Vietnam War had never ended. It was hard for a civilian to find work that was as completely satisfying.

  ‘Well, I make it my business to know what’s going on,’ the Deaf Man said.

  ‘What was it?’ Gopher asked. ‘The Cooper Street job?’

  ‘That, yes. And others.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘I heard you wired the break-in at First National Security.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. In Boston.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not many people know I was responsible for that one.’

  ‘Well, as I say, it’s important for me to know such things.’

  ‘They’re still lookin’ for us up there.’

  ‘What was your end of the take?’ the Deaf Man asked.

  ‘Well, that’s personal, ain’t it?’

  ‘I understand you went in for five percent.’

  ‘Ten. And it was just for wiring the place. I wasn’t nowhere near it when they went in. There were four guys went in. They were expecting maybe eight hundred thou in the vault, but there was some kind of fuck-up, most of it was in non-negotiable securities. So they came away with two-fifty, which wasn’t bad for an hour’s work, huh? And I figured my end—at twenty-five—was fair. The other four guys netted a bit more than fifty-six each, and they took all the risk.’

  ‘I can’t afford twenty-five on this one,’ the Deaf Man said.

  ‘Then maybe you picked the wrong man.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He poured more wine into Gopher’s empty glass.

  ‘‘Cause, like if you want a Caddy,’ Gopher said, ‘you can’t expect to pay Chevy prices.’

  ‘All I can afford is ten.’

  ‘For both jobs?’

  ‘A total of ten, yes.’

  ‘That’s only five grand apiece.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And the first one, that’s a compound job, if you know what I mean. There’s really nine separate jobs in the first one.’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?’

  ‘How is it an exaggeration? By my count, nine is nine.’

  ‘You wouldn’t ha
ve to do all nine at the same time.’

  ‘But you want them timed to go off at the same time, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Or at least approximately the same time.’

  ‘Within an hour or so, yes. I don’t care about the specific hour or minute.’

  ‘But all of them on January second, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, who knows what I’ll be doin’ next year? You’re talkin’ months ahead here. I was thinkin’ I might go down to Miami right after Christmas.’

  ‘Well, that’s up to you, of course. I thought you might be interested in picking up a quick ten thousand, but if you’re not...’

  ‘I didn’t say I’m not interested. Would I be here if I wasn’t interested? I’m saying you’re talking low, is all. Especially for the second one. The second one’s gonna be risky, all them fuckin’ cops up there. Not to mention this’ll be three days after the first one so they’re gonna be on their guard, you know what I mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure you understand,’ the Deaf Man said. ‘You won’t be anywhere near the place when...’

  ‘I understand, I understand, you want this all done in advance, I understand that. What I’m saying is after the first one they might start snooping around, they’ll uncover what I done, they might get onto me somehow.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know how. I’m only saying.’

  ‘I hardly think there’s any likelihood of that.’

  ‘Well, with cops you never know. Also I may have to use a complicated timer. Something like what they used in the Thatcher bombing— something I can set at least a week in advance.’

  ‘Will you be using timers on the cars as well?’

  ‘That depends. Does this have to happen during the daytime? Or can it be at night? The cars, I mean.’

  ‘That’s irrelevant. So long as it’s January second.’

  ‘And do they have to be totaled?’

  ‘No, that’s not important either.’

  ‘Well then, maybe I can use a five-pound charge. A charge that size’ll open all your doors, your hood, and your trunk and give you a pretty decent wreck. The IRA’s been using hundred-pound, even two-hundred-pound charges for their car bombs, but we don’t need anything that showy, huh? What they do, they fill their bombs with a mixture of chemical fertilizer and diesel fuel, which I don’t like ‘cause it’s hard to detonate—you need a gun-cotton priming charge or else a few sticks of gelignite to set it off. What I was thinking, I figured a five-pound charge of dynamite would do the job very nice indeed. And if you don’t care whether it’s day or night, I think I know how I can detonate without a timer. But, for the other, you want a fire...’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Well, that’s my point. I’ll have to figure on an explosion that’ll touch off a fire. What’s in our favor, this is an old building we’re dealing with here, it should go up pretty fast, your old wood and plaster. If I use napalm—which I ain’t sure I’ll be using yet—I can make it myself, put together the soap chips and the gasoline, make the jelly, you understand? That’s if I...’

  ‘You can make that yourself?’

  ‘Oh, sure, if I decide to go the napalm route. All you need is your raw materials and a double boiler. Trouble with napalm, it don’t like a delay time of more than an hour, ‘specially in a hot room. Your gasoline evaporates. Also with napalm they can sometimes smell the gasoline, which is a tip-off. I gotta see. Whatever I use, I’m gonna have to figure a small explosion that’ll touch off the incendiary, you understand? That’s ‘cause I’ll be working with a timer, you understand? Think of it as a spark first, then an explosion, and then your fire. But what I’m saying, the second job ain’t as easy as it looks. Even getting in there won’t be...’

  ‘There’ll be no problem about getting in.’

  ‘That’s provided you get me those maps.’

  ‘I already have the maps,’ the Deaf Man said. Believe me, it’s all very simple.’

  ‘Everything’s simple to you,’ Gopher said, and smiled.

  ‘Yes,’ the Deaf Man said. ‘If you choose the right people, everything’s simple.’

  ‘For the right people,’ Gopher said, ‘you’ve got to pay the right money.’

  ‘How much do you want?’ the Deaf Man asked.

  ‘Dennis, I’ll level with you,’ Gopher said. ‘The first job is risky as hell because there’s nine of them and because of the proximity. It’s not like I’ll be working in some empty lot someplace. I’m gonna be right behind the fuckin’ police station!’

  ‘Authorized to work there.’

  ‘Sure, if these papers of yours pass muster.’

  ‘They will.’

  ‘Who’s doing these papers for you?’

  ‘You don’t need to know that.’

  ‘It’s my ass, not yours. They smell fish on those papers, the jig’s up right that minute.’

  ‘All right, I’ll grant you that. Someone who once worked for the CIA is preparing the papers for me.’

  ‘What kind of work for the CIA?’

  ‘He was in their Documents Section.’

  ‘Phony passports and such?’

  ‘Phony everything.’

  ‘So, okay, I’ll take your word for the papers.’

  ‘Which should calm any fears you have about the risk factor.’

  ‘It’s still risky, papers or not. I can’t do nine fuckin’ cars in a single day.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘‘Cause it’s not that simple. I’m not talking about the wiring. If I do what I’m figuring on doing, it’ll take me two minutes to wire each car. But the charge itself, there’ll be nine five-pound charges, and I can’t go in with a load like that without somebody noticing. Well, wait a minute, if I do what I’m figuring on doing, I’ll have to do them all the same day. Yeah. I’ll have to plan on making a few trips back to the truck. Yeah. So, okay, it’s a day’s work is all. But still, there’ll be cops comin’ and goin’ all the time. All it takes is for one of them to ask me what the fuck I’m doin’.’

  ‘In which case you show the papers again.’

  ‘And pray he don’t smell a rat.’

  The Deaf Man sighed.

  ‘Listen, Den, I’m sorry all to hell, believe me. But like I said, this is my ass we’re talkin’ about.’

  ‘I asked you how much you wanted. I still haven’t got an answer.’

  ‘For the first job, the nine cars. I want seventy-five hundred.’

  ‘And the second job?’

  ‘That’s the toughest one, whatever you think. I want ten grand for that one.’

  ‘So you’re asking for seventeen-five total.’

  ‘Seventeen-five, right.’

  ‘I came here prepared to pay you ten.’

  ‘What can I tell you, Den? You were thinkin’ too low.’

  ‘You’ve almost doubled the price.’

  ‘You can always look somewhere else. No harm done, we drink our wine, we shake hands and say good-bye.’

  ‘I’ll give you a flat fifteen, take it or leave it.’

  ‘Make it sixteen, and we’ve got a deal.’

  ‘No. Fifteen is all I can afford.’

  ‘You’re getting me cheap.’

  ‘Is it a deal?’

  ‘It’s a deal. Five up front, five when I’m done on the inside, another five when the cars are wired.’

  ‘You’re robbing me blind,’ the Deaf Man said, but he was smiling. He had come here with an offer of ten, but had not expected to get off for less than thirty.

  The man reached across the table and shook hands.

  ‘When can you start?’ the Deaf Man asked.

  ‘As soon as you get me the maps and the papers and all the other shit. Also I want to look it over first, make sure I ain’t steppin’ into a lion’s den. One question.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Why do you want this thing done? I mean...’

  ‘Let’s say it’s personal,
’ the Deaf Man said.

  * * * *