‘That’s right,’ Morgan said. ‘Well, imagine those two guys in the truck. In this weather it’ll be damned hot in the cab. They’ve driven over the same route dozens of times, and what with the heat and the boredom of the ride, they’ll be down on their heels. They come to the bottleneck. As they turn into the bend, they’ll see a car, smashed up against the rock, but off the road. Lying in the middle of the road will be a woman, with blood on her and looking pretty bad.’ He leaned forward, staring directly at Bleck. ‘You tell me something: what are those two guys going to do — keep going and drive over the woman or stop and find out how badly hurt she is?’
Bleck grinned. He looked at Kitson.
‘Are you listening, stupe?’ he said. ‘Some pipe dream!’
‘What are they going to do?’ Morgan repeated as Kitson shifted in his chair, his face turning red.
Bleck said, ‘They’ll stop. I guess one of them will get out of the truck and the other will use the radio to get help. That is if they are as security minded as Kitson says they are.’
Morgan looked over at Kitson.
‘What do you say? What do you think they would do?’
Kitson hesitated, then grudgingly shrugged his shoulders, he said, ‘I guess Ed’s right. Dirkson would get out of the truck and Thomas would stay where he was. Dirkson would find out how badly hurt she was, move her off the road, go back to the truck, radio for help, and then they’d go on, leaving her for the ambulance to pick up.’
‘Okay. That’s what I think too,’ Morgan said. He didn’t bother to ask Gypo his opinion. Gypo seldom expressed an opinion that was worth listening to except when it had to do with the busting of a safe or the opening of some tricky lock. ‘So we have this situation,’ Morgan went on. ‘We have one guard out of the truck and the other guard inside the truck. Now tell me something else.’ He was looking directly at Kitson. ‘Would the driver scramble the time lock and drop the steel shutters across the windows and the windshield in a situation like that?’
Kitson took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.
‘I guess not,’ he said sullenly.
Morgan looked over at Bleck.
‘What do you think?’
‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ Bleck said decisively. ‘From what Kitson says if the time lock is scrambled, it takes an expert to fix it, and this guy wouldn’t start a thing like that unless he thought the truck was in danger. He wouldn’t operate the shutters because he’d be curious to see what his pal was doing and how badly hurt the woman was.’
Morgan nodded.
‘Well, at least we’re getting somewhere. The truck has stopped and the buttons haven’t been pushed.’ He pointed a finger at Kitson. ‘That’s the situation you said wasn’t possible. You said it was crazy talk and a pipe dream. What do you say now?’
‘Where’s it going to get you anyway?’ Kitson said angrily. ‘Okay, so I was wrong, but for all the good it’s done you, I could have been right.’
Morgan blew a thin stream of smoke towards the ceiling. He now looked as if he were enjoying himself.
‘All the same I haven’t done so badly,’ he said. ‘I’ve stopped the truck and I’ve got the guard out into the open. Now imagine this bottleneck. That’s where the truck will be stopped. On each side there’s thick cover where two or three guys can hide. The guard gets out of the truck and walks to where the woman is lying. Don’t tell me in this heat those two drive for ninety-three miles with their windows shut. Do you imagine the driver will close the windows when the guard leaves him?’
Kitson again hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head.
‘I guess not.’
‘I’m damned sure not. It’ll be hot enough in that steel box without him closing the windows. Well, then, we have the truck at a standstill, close enough to the shrubs where two men can easily hide. The driver is watching through the windshield what his pal is doing. His pal is moving towards the woman. They’re not expecting trouble. This is an accident spot. There have been five bad smashes there within six months. I’ll be in the shrubs. I’ll have about ten feet between me and the truck. I’ll come out behind the truck as the guard bends over the woman, and I’ll come up to the driver’s window and stick a gun in his face. At the same time the woman sticks a gun in the guard’s face.’ He reached forward and crushed out his cigarette. ‘Now, tell me something. What are these two birds going to do? Make heroes of themselves?’
‘They could do,’ Kitson said soberly. ‘They’re good men.’
‘Okay, so they are good men, but they’re not crazy. It’s my bet they’ll give up.’
There was a long, heavy pause, then Gypo said, a slight quaver in his voice, ‘Suppose they don’t give up?’
Morgan looked over at him, his black eyes glittering.
‘The take is a million bucks; two hundred thousand each. If they don’t give up, they’ll get hurt. You can’t pick up that kind of money without someone getting pushed around a little.’
There was another pause, then Gypo said, ‘I don’t like it, Frank. Maybe it’s too big for us.’
Morgan waved his hand impatiently.
‘What are you worrying about? You won’t be there. I’ve a special job for you and it won’t be too big for you. I promise you that.’
Kitson leaned forward.
‘How about me? I’m not crazy enough to get tied up in a murder rap! Count me out!’
Morgan looked over at Bleck who was lighting a cigarette.
‘I’ve heard these two chickens: how about you?’
Bleck pursed his lips as he flicked the dead match across the room.
‘It’s my bet those two will give up. If they don’t, then it’s going to be just too bad.’
‘That’s the way I feel about it,’ Morgan said. ‘Okay, then you and me and the girl will handle it. Gypo and Kitson can handle the soft end, but their cut will come lower. We take the risks so we get more dough. That’s fair, isn’t it?’
Kitson frowned uneasily. Already the thought of what two hundred thousand dollars would mean to him was beginning to take a hold of him.
‘Well, maybe. It depends what my cut would be,’ he said.
‘A hundred and twenty-five grand,’ Morgan said promptly. ‘Because Gypo’s a technical man, he’ll get a hundred and seventy-five grand. The hundred grand you two don’t get would be split between Ed and me.’
Kitson and Gypo exchanged glances.
‘If those guys act tough, one of us or maybe one of them could get killed,’ Kitson said, breathing heavily. ‘I don’t like it. Up to now the jobs we have pulled have been small and sweet.
The worst we could have drawn could have been a year in jail, but this is a murder rap. Count me out.’
‘That’s right,’ Gypo said. ‘Count me out too.’
Morgan smiled wolfishly.
‘Okay. Let’s vote on it. The rules of this outfit are that we always vote on a job. So let’s vote.’
‘We don’t have to vote,’ Kitson said sharply. ‘It’s a tie anyway even if Ed throws in with you. Your rules say if it’s a tie we don’t do the job — remember?’
‘Sure, I remember,’ Morgan said, grinning. ‘Let’s vote all the same. Let’s keep this outfit business-like. Whatever the decision, we stick to it — right?’
Kitson shrugged.
‘Yes, but why waste time?’
Morgan pushed back his chair and stood up. His big muscular frame threw a black shadow across the table.
‘Get the voting slips ready, Gypo.’
Gypo, his moon-shaped face puzzled, produced a notebook and tore a page from it. He cut the page into four strips with a penknife and dropped the strips of paper on the table.
‘There you are, guys,’ he said. ‘Help yourselves.’
Morgan said softly, ‘Why only four, Gypo?’
Gypo stared up at him blankly.
‘It’s always four, isn’t it?’
Morgan smiled.
‘This is a five-way split —
remember? The girl has a vote too.’
He walked to the door, threw it open and said, ‘Come on in, Ginny. They want to vote on this job, and I need your vote.’
II
She came out of the darkness into the hard light from the overhead lamp and stood beside Morgan, looking at the three men who stared back at her. She was young, not more than twenty-three, and slightly above average height. She had copper-coloured hair, piled to the top of her head. Her eyes were large and greenish-grey and as expressionless and as impersonal as a cupful of seawater. Her mouth was over large, her lips full and sensual, and there was an arrogant, determined tilt to her chin.
She was wearing a blood-red silk shirt tucked into a black overlap skirt. Her body was full breasted and narrow waisted. Her full hips tapered down to long, slim legs. It was a body made fashionable by Italian film stars, and it caught the three men’s attention the way a hook catches a fish.
Morgan’s black eyes roved around the faces of the three men and he grinned. He knew the girl would make an impact on them and it interested him to see just how great the impact would be.
Gypo’s hand had gone to his string red tie, adjusting it, while he peeled his thick lips off his big, dazzling white teeth in a leering smile.
Bleck, frankly startled, lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a soundless, appreciative whistle.
Kitson looked as if someone had hit him on the head with a hammer. He stared at the girl the way a tortured bull stares at a matador the moment before the estocada.
Morgan said, ‘This is Ginny Gordon.’
Bleck got to his feet. After a moment’s hesitation, Gypo also got to his feet, but Kitson sat there, his big hands into fists on the table, his eyes a little glassy, his expression still stunned.
‘Reading from right to left,’ Morgan went on, ‘is Ed Bleck who takes care of the gang when I’m out of the way. Gypo Mandini, our technical man and Alex Kitson who handles the car when we need a car.’
Kitson suddenly lumbered to his feet, nearly upsetting the table. He continued to stare at the girl, his hands still in fists.
The girl’s eyes moved quickly from face to face, then she pulled out a chair beside Morgan and sat down.
‘I’ve given the boys an outline of the plan,’ Morgan said to the girl, standing over her. ‘Two of them think it’s too big for us. Our rules are if there’s any disagreement about the job, we vote on it. So we’re going to vote.’
The girl frowned, her face suddenly puckering into a puzzled frown.
‘Too big for them?’ she repeated. ‘You mean two of them don’t want to pick up two hundred thousand dollars?’ Her voice was cold and incredulous.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Morgan said and grinned. ‘They think someone might get hurt and that bothers them.’
The girl looked at Gypo, then her greenish-grey eyes moved to Bleck, then flickered over to stare at Kitson.
‘I thought you said your outfit was good,’ she said.
The sudden scorn in her voice made Kitson flinch and turn red.
‘That’s what I said.’ Morgan’s grin widened. ‘But this is the first job we’ve planned that’s really big and two of us aren’t too happy about it.’
‘This is the big one,’ the girl said, her voice tense. ‘It pays off a million dollars. You said your outfit could handle it and I believed you, otherwise I wouldn’t have come to you. Now you are taking a vote. What is all this?’
The three men were startled. The contemptuous, reckless note in the girl’s voice angered them.
Bleck, who had the reputation of treating his women rough, said, ‘You sound a little loud, baby. Suppose you relax a little?’
The girl pushed back her chair and stood up. Her pretty face was cold and hard.
‘I guess I’ve come to the wrong address,’ she said to Morgan. ‘We’ll skip it. I’ll peddle this idea to a mob who has blood in its veins. I’m not going to waste my time talking to a bunch of powder puffs.’
She swung around on her heels and started towards the door.
Still grinning, Morgan reached out and caught hold of her arm, checking her.
‘Take it easy!’ he said. ‘These boys are okay. They’ve just got to adjust themselves. Gypo here is the best safe man in the business. Ed has nerves as good as mine. Kitson can handle a car the way no one else can. Just take it easy. You’ve caught us on the wrong foot. Maybe I shouldn’t have got around to the facts so fast. These boys are technically good, but they’re scared someone is going to get hurt.’
She stood staring at each man in turn.
‘Hurt? Who’s the dumb cluck who imagines we can pick up a million dollars without getting hurt?’ Her voice was harsh as she looked at the three men. ‘It’s a million dollars! For that kind of money I wouldn’t give a damn what happened to me or to anyone else!’
She shook off Morgan’s restraining hand, moved back under the hard light.
She looked directly at Kitson.
‘Are you scared to get your pretty skin bruised when there’s two hundred thousand dollars for the taking?’
Kitson had to make an effort to meet her steady, scornful eyes.
‘The job can’t be done,’ he said sullenly. ‘I know. I’ve worked for these people. This could be a murder rap and I don’t go for that.’
‘All right, if that’s the way you feel about it,’ the girl said, ‘we can do without your help. If you don’t want the money, now’s the time to pick up that beautiful, muscular body of yours and get out of here!’
Kitson’s face darkened and he pushed back his chair.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to? I tell you this job can’t be done! It’s a pipe dream!’
She flicked slim fingers towards the door.
‘And you are a pipe dream too. Run away, powder puff. We can handle this without you.’
Slowly, Kitson got to his feet, his breath snorting through his broken nose. He walked slowly around the table towards the girl who pivoted on her heels so she faced him.
The three men at the table watched. Bleck looked worried. He knew Kitson’s temper was unreliable. Gypo was frowning. Morgan still grinned.
‘You and nobody else talks to me that way!’ Kitson said as he confronted the girl.
They made an incongruous couple. Her head scarcely reached to the top of his shoulder, and standing in front of her, he seemed at least three times as broad as she was.
She looked at him, her expression still scornful.
‘Then in case you didn’t hear, I’ll repeat what I said,’ she said quietly. ‘Run away, powder puff. We can handle this without your help.’
Kitson made a low growling noise and he lifted his hand, threateningly.
‘Go ahead and hit me,’ the girl said. ‘I’m not scared of getting hurt!’
Morgan laughed.
Kitson dropped his hand and stepped back. He muttered under his breath and then started for the door.
‘Kitson!’ Morgan’s voice rapped out. ‘Come back here and sit down! We’ve got to vote. You walk out now, and you’re through with this outfit for good!’
Kitson hesitated, then turning slowly, his face confused and sullen, he walked back to the table and sat down.
Morgan looked at Gypo.
‘Another slip.’
Gypo took out his notebook and cut another slip of paper.
Bleck said, ‘Before we vote, Frank, I want to know more about this job. How does she get mixed up in it?’ He jerked his thumb towards Ginny.
‘For the past five months I’ve been trying to figure out how to knock over this truck,’ Morgan said, ‘and I couldn’t figure an angle. Three nights ago, she came to me and dropped the whole thing, sewn up, into my lap. It’s her idea, that’s why it’s a five-way split. She’s worked out all the angles, and I’m satisfied her plan will work.’
Bleck looked at the girl.
‘And where do you come from, baby?’ he asked. ‘What put the idea into your pretty head?’
<
br /> The girl opened her cheap, shabby bag and took out a pack of cigarettes and a book of paper matches. She lit a cigarette while she regarded Bleck, her gaze cool and impersonal.
‘It’s no business of yours nor anyone else’s where I come from,’ she said curtly. ‘I thought up the idea because I want the money. While we’re on the subject, I don’t like being called baby, so drop it, will you?’
Bleck grinned. He admired a woman with spirit.
‘Sure, I’ll drop it. What made you pick on this outfit to help you with a job as big as this one?’
She pointed to Gypo.
‘Because of him. I asked around. They said he’s the best man with a lock in the district and that’s what’s needed for this job. They said you had a lot of nerve, that Morgan had a flair for organization and Kitson was the best getaway driver on the coast.’
Gypo was smiling now. He thrived on flattery. The girl is dead right, he thought. There is no better man in the lock business.
Kitson had lost his sullen expression. He now looked embarrassed, and he kept his eyes down, staring at the wet ring on the table made by his whisky glass.
‘They said? Who said?’ Bleck asked.
‘That’s neither here nor there. We’re wasting time,’ the girl said. ‘I asked around because I had to be sure I was coming to the right outfit, but it seems I could have made a mistake. If I have, then I’ll try elsewhere.’
Bleck lit a cigarette while he stared at her.
‘Well, you’ve certainly picked the toughest end of the job if you’re the one who’s going to lie in the road. Was that your idea?’
‘Of course.’
‘Let’s look at what you are taking on. You’ll be lying in the middle of the road. You’ll have a gun under you. When the guard comes up to you you’ll stick the gun in his face, correct?’
She nodded.
‘It could be rugged,’ Bleck said. ‘Two things could happen: either the guard tosses up his hands and quits or else he won’t take you seriously and makes a grab at your gun. From what I hear about this guy, he won’t give up. He’ll make a grab at your gun. Then what?’
The World in My Pocket Page 2