“Are you good at that?” Kate wanted to know. “At beating people up?”
A muscle groupie, Harry was thinking, and opened his jacket again. “I can handle myself, the need arises. You should see me with two hands sometime.”
“I doubt that,” Kate said. “You’re not very big at all.”
“Dirty, though.”
Kate didn’t laugh. To Harry it looked as if she was taking notes. “I’m serious,” she said. “Are you fast on your feet?”
“The footwork’s so-so. What I got is a good left and a concrete jaw.”
“I mean can you run?”
“Like a thief.”
“And you have lots of experience?”
“In the amateurs,” Harry lied. “I was thirteen and—”
“You’re missing the point,” Kate said in exasperation. “I’m trying to find out if you’re a better housebreaker than you’ve shown so far.”
“You kiddin’? It’s a racket I know inside and out.”
“One more thing.” She inhaled deeply. “It occurred to me that maybe you’d be willing to do a job for me … uh, contract work.”
A smile crossed Harry’s face—darkened it, Kate thought. “Doin’ what?” he asked. Then the smile was gone and he was saying, “I keep tellin’ you I’m a burglar, not a hit man.”
“I understand. I’m looking for a burglar … I think.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Harry said, and sat down beside her on the bed.
“It’s really very simple.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Harry said. “I go out there, break in, and they shoot me dead on the spot.”
“You say you’re a professional. Why should this job be harder than any other?”
“Easy for you to say.”
It was, Kate thought, surprised that he didn’t bite. And so was this: “What are you afraid of?”
“You’re forgettin’ something, aren’t you? They already killed somebody.”
“Bucyk did,” Kate said. “Nicholas was with me all evening. Anyway, he wouldn’t dirty his hands.”
“A major supplier,” Harry said with a shudder. “The place is probably like a fort, cocaine cowboys with machine guns on the roof.”
“I’ve been inside and there are no bodyguards, if that’s what’s worrying you. He lives alone. And if he keeps any weapons, I didn’t see them. There’s just him,” she said coyly, “and a house full of expensive antiques.”
“Is that supposed to get me all hot and bothered? Antiques are not my line. You have to fence ’em for like twenty percent of what they’re worth. The IRS gives John Q. Public a fairer shake than that.”
“What is your line?”
“Coke’s one of ’em,” Harry admitted. “But it seems we have a conflict of interest there.”
“I just need a little. What I’d really like to get my hands on are the electric parts.”
“The ones you aren’t interested in?”
“Those,” she said. “Antiques, the money, the rest of the cocaine, whatever else you find, you can keep most of.”
Harry poked a finger inside the cast and withdrew it quickly. He took the pencil from his pocket again and worked it under the plaster. “What if the electric stuff’s not there?”
“Clean him out,” Kate said bitterly. “Even if I don’t get what I want, you should do very nicely for one day’s work. The house is like a gold mine.”
“I gotta think about it. I need to look at the setup, factor in the potential for profit against the odds I’m gonna get whacked out or go to the joint. This is not the kind of thing you want to make a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“When can you let me know?”
“Soon.” He jabbed the pencil all the way in and left it there. “Meantime, since you’re not hungry, you feel like goin’ for a ride, kill a couple hours?”
“We buried Nathan today. I’m really not in the mood for—”
“A drive out to Queens?”
“Me?” Kate asked. “I mean, me?”
“You want I should die alone?”
“But what do I know about housebreaking?”
“More’n you let on. The rest, what it takes is on-the-job training.”
Kate said, “I’ll just be in the way.”
“For cryin’ out loud, we’re not goin’ in. All I want is for you to keep me company while I check out the place.”
“How about taking Isaac?” she asked. “At least he can give you some protection.”
Harry pulled out the pencil with satisfied smile. “…That, and somebody gotta show me the way.”
“Oh,” Kate said. “I hadn’t thought of it.”
“Lot of things you hadn’t thought about. It’s what worries me.”
“Do we have a deal, then?” she asked.
Harry offered his hand again and Kate was surprised at how warm the fingers felt. “Great,” she said. “There’s just one more thing. I’ve never done anything like this before. What do I wear?”
Harry considered it with his eyes closed. “Your black dress,” he said. “It goes with the job.”
“Before we get there,” Harry said, “you should call the house and make sure he isn’t in. I don’t want him lookin’ out the window and seein’ us lookin’ back.”
Kate pushed herself away from the mirror where she was applying her makeup. “Can you bring me the dress now? I hope it’s dry.”
Harry went out of the bedroom. When he came back, Kate was sitting on the edge of the bed with the phone in her lap, slapping the earpiece against the heel of her hand. “The line is dead,” she told him.
“Hey,” he said, and tossed the dress at her. “Not now. You call when we get to Queens, when we’re a couple of minutes from the house.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “It was just working …”
“You got to make the call there,” he said, not looking at her, hurrying out of the room again.
Kate said, “I’ll walk around the corner with you. It’s quicker that way.”
“I said wait right here.”
“I can’t see why. What are you trying to hide?”
“Don’t see,” Harry said. “Just wait.”
He ran to Amsterdam, where he had left the green Cutlass in front of a church. He hot-wired it with a practiced hand and then circled the block, half-expecting her to be gone. As he came up to the brownstone she stepped off the curb and he set the parking brake and got out to open the door for her. “Our first date,” he leered, “and we’re goin’ all the way.”
He shifted into drive, touched the gas, and just as quickly tromped down on the brake. Kate braced herself against the dashboard. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Remind me to pick up some batteries when we get out there. This is important.”
“If I remember—”
“Don’t give me any ifs,” he said, putting the car in motion again. “And now that we’re partners, I got a name in case you didn’t know.”
“Are you sure you can trust me with such a big secret?”
“I’m not tellin’ you anything you wouldn’t find out sooner or later,” he said. “I saw you eyeballin’ my license plate. Anybody ever tell you you move your lips when you read? Call me Harry.”
“Harry what?”
A small boy on a bicycle pulling a younger child on a skateboard darted across the street from between parked cars and Kate yelled, “Look out!”
“Look out, Harry,” he said, swerving easily around them. “…Just Harry.”
He dropped down to Fifty-ninth Street, then cut across to the Queensboro Bridge, followed Queens Boulevard all the way out to Forest Hills. At Yellowstone Boulevard he pulled up to an appliance shop and turned to look at her. “Something you’re forgettin’,” he said.
“I didn’t forget. But if you’re not breaking in tonight, why do you need flashlight batteries?”
“They’re not for a flashlight. What we want are 10.8-volt nickel-cadmium battery packs, got i
t?”
He was ducking beneath the lid of the trunk when she carried a small bag onto the street, watched him empty a cardboard box that might have been looted from the store she had just left. “What is all that stuff?” she asked.
Harry sorted through a collection of plastic objects that reminded her of TV remote controls. “This,” he said, showing her a small radio with a stubby antenna, “is the finest portable police scanner ever hocked. A Motorola HT220. It just about lets us hear inside the cops’ heads, there’s anything goin’ on there.”
“Why should we care what they’re thinking? We’re not doing anything illegal … today.”
“Some concerned citizen sics ’em on us, it’d be good if we were among the first to know. Which reminds me, it’s time to make your call. There should be a pay phone in that drugstore there. Try him, then give him five minutes to get out of the craphouse and try him again. Someone answers, hang up. They don’t, put the receiver down without breakin’ the connection.”
She went into the pharmacy reaching inside her purse for Nicholas’s number. Through a window display of roach killers and calcium supplements she could see Harry bent over the trunk. He tucked a few items under his arm and brought them to the front seat, then walked back and slammed the lid. Working with just the one hand, his motions were deliberate and clumsy and seemed to require more effort than they were worth. No, she told herself, he was not her first choice in burglars. But where was she going to find anyone else crazy enough to help her? After ten rings she hung up and began watching the clock above the prescription counter. Seven minutes later, when she came back to the car, Harry was waiting behind the wheel.
“No one’s home,” she said.
“Let’s put a move on and get it over with. The only thing worse than havin’ him see us from the window is he drives up while we’re still snoopin’ around.”
Kate slid onto the seat and her thigh collided with some of the radio gear. “Are these police scanners too?” she asked. “Why do we need so many?”
“They’re walkie-talkies,” Harry said as the Cutlass crept from the curb. “Top-of-the-line Maxon FM UHF CPO520s with mini-resonators and four-channel capability. I had ’em customized, put in my own crystals so we got a wide, secure band.”
“That’s nice,” Kate said.
“What I’m sayin’ is I had ’em fixed so the hams and CB operators who monitor the usual frequencies can’t listen in on us.” He pulled up to a red light at Continental Avenue and Kate indicated a right turn. “I’m not as dumb as I look.”
“It’s a load off—ouch,” she screamed. “My ear. Put your hand back on the wheel.”
He drove under the trestle without being told and they came into Forest Gardens. Some of the fragile English veneer had worn off against the dusk and the gritty sameness of Queens was closing in on all sides. Kate said she didn’t remember the way and Harry slapped his forehead and they cruised the spiral grid for ten minutes before she pointed to a large house behind a stone wall. The driveway was empty.
Harry whistled between his teeth. “Where’s the drawbridge?”
“It is impressive the first time you see it.”
He drove around the block and parked a third of the way down the next street with the engine running. “There’s no lights on,” he said. “I’m goin’ over and see if I can hear the phone. I do, no one’s home.” He switched on the scanner and leaned it upright against the seat between them. “You keep one ear on this all the time. You hear a call for anywhere in Forest Gardens, what you do is …” He installed batteries in both walkie-talkies, put one in her lap and hooked the other onto his belt. “You talk in here and let me know about it.”
“Here?” she asked, tapping her nail against the raised plastic beneath the stubby antenna.
“Uh-huh. Couple of other things you should know, too. Number one, you don’t kill the engine for any reason, no matter what. Got that?”
Kate nodded.
“The other is, stay inside the car. It’s dark now and the streets are pretty deserted, but we don’t want to take the chance on someone comin’ along and gettin’ a look at you and you make such a good impression he never forgets your face.” He reached into his jacket and came out with a pencil flashlight.
“Do you always go around prepared to do this kind of thing?” she asked.
“I used to be in the Girl Scouts.”
He slipped outside and went purposefully toward the big house. A couple of ash blondes in high heels and toreador pants came toward him behind a Lhasa apso with a pink ribbon between its ears and a chip on its shoulder. Harry kept his eyes straight ahead and the women paid him as much attention as they did to the dog’s barking. He disappeared in the shadow of the stone wall, emerging for an instant at the gate. He rattled the black metal, then wedged a foot against the latch, boosted himself up over the top and was gone.
Kate held the scanner to her ear, and a burst of static made her pull it away again. A woman with a rapid-fire delivery was ordering police units to a hit-and-run accident at Yellowstone and Weatherole Street. Kate fidgeted with the walkie-talkie and then tuned the car radio to a classical music station. Some Beethoven would be good for the nerves, for hers and Harry’s both, she thought. As she placed the walkie-talkie near the speaker, the Cutlass sputtered and coughed and the idiot lights turned the front seat a watery pink. Kate pointed her toe over the transmission hump and fed some gas till the engine evened out. She put down the walkie-talkie and adjusted the rearview mirror so that she could see the other block without having to look over her shoulder.
The house was dead center in the glass, a picture postcard floating over the windshield, when a veil of darkness fell across the mirror. Kate froze. And Harry pulled open the door and sat beside her.
“He doesn’t care for unannounced visitors,” Harry said. “He’s got a SafeTech electronic lock on the door. It has a ten-digit keyboard and four-digit code, which means there’s five thousand possible combinations to play with. There’s also a lockout timer, so if the whole code isn’t entered in sequence in less than five seconds, the thing shuts off and you have to start all over again. The place is as easy to get into as the Dallas Cowgirls’ locker room.”
“Damn,” Kate said. “I should have known this would never work.”
“Hey, I’m just tryin’ to give you the lay of the land.”
“You can defeat a burglar alarm like that? You’re that good?”
Harry’s voice flattened out. “It’s the most sophisticated I’ve ever seen, about one hundred times smarter than I am. I wouldn’t know where to begin to beat a work of art like this. Once you get inside there’s probably motion sensors and heat detectors like the fuckin’ Ho Chi Minh Trail, and the setup’s plugged into the Walker SafeTech office on Queens Boulevard somewhere. Anyone breathes heavy on a door or window, or tries cuttin’ the juice, Walker’ll have a couple of rent-a-cops over in two minutes tops.”
“You’ve convinced me,” Kate said. “Let’s go.”
Harry revved the engine, but left the car in park. “The system must’ve set Nicholas back at least twenty thousand dollars, and what makes it work are suckers that are lucky if they see that kind of dough in two years. I gotta be smarter than them.”
“I don’t see how that gets us inside.”
“You’re gonna. You wearin’ a watch?”
Kate pushed up her sleeve over a Movado Esquire with a gold-toned case.
“Quality merchandise,” Harry said, taking her wrist. “It’s a good thing I didn’t see it before.” He let her arm down slowly. “How long I been in the car, been thirty seconds? Add another forty-five for the time it took to walk back from the house and start counting.”
They kept their eyes on the rearview mirror. A tan Chevrolet with WALKER SAFETECH in metallic lettering on the doors pulled up beside the stone fence and two men in brown-and-gold uniforms hurried out with their hands heeled to the grips of holstered guns.
“How much time is t
hat, total?” Harry asked.
“Just about four minutes.”
“They’re supposed to be here in two,” he said, watching the guards sprint toward the gate. “Somebody ought to write Walker.”
“What are they doing?” Kate asked. “I can’t see them any more.”
“Lookin’ for burglars. But they’re not even warm.”
Kate dragged the back of her hand across her eyebrows and brought it away clammy. “Why do you want them here?” she breathed. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“Checkin’ their response time. It’s pitiful, is what it is.”
Soon the guards emerged from the property. One of them, a powerfully built blond, was shaking his head as they went to the car. They drove to the corner, U-turned and sped away.
“Is this your idea of fun?” Kate asked angrily. “You could have gotten us arrested, or worse.”
Harry didn’t hear. He had opened his door and was standing on the sidewalk.
“Now where are you going?”
“I need to stretch my legs some more.” He adjusted the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Keep me posted, anything interesting comes up.”
She watched him all the way to the house, till she lost sight of him at the wall. Though he hadn’t told her to she began looking at her watch, and when he came back to the Cutlass flashing his sly, crooked grin, she said, “One minute, forty-nine seconds.”
“Call it two minutes, then.” He joined her on the seat.
At the end of a long silence Kate said, “I can see the Walker car again. It just turned onto the street.”
“What’s that make altogether, make about seven minutes?”
“Eight.”
“Eight whole fuckin’ minutes.” He sounded outraged. “Nicholas should get double his money back. These guys are worse than useless.”
Again they saw the uniformed men get out of the car and go up to the gate. Some of the urgency was gone from their step. The guard who had exited the passenger door, a squat mulatto, lagged behind as if he didn’t want to be bothered.
Harry said, “When they come back, we better get down on the seat. They should be fairly pissed by now, and they might try cruisin’ the neighborhood, see who’s pullin’ their leg.”
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