Two men in twenty

by Procter, Maurice

  France returned, and Cain said: 'I really could do with that fiver.'

  France proffered a closed hand, knuckles up. Cain put forward an open palm, and received five one-pound notes. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I'll pay you back.'

  'I'm sure you will,' France said, in a tone which suggested belief in himself rather than belief in his debtor. It was then that Cain realized, with helpless anger against a widely circulated untruth, that France had been to the toilet in order to get out five pounds without revealing whereabouts on his person he kept the bulk of his money.

  'Damn it,' he exclaimed. 'You're another who thinks Howie Cain is a rotten dip.' He threw the little wad of notes on the bar. 'Keep your bloody money. I'll manage without it.'

  The two men looked at each other, one red with mortification, the other cool and appraising.

  France grinned. 'Pick it up, Howie,' he said. 'You don't look like a dipper to me.'

  Slowly the colour of rage faded from Cain's face. 'Well thanks, Jimmy,' he said, and picked up the money.

  * * * * *

  For a while Cain was in straitened circumstances, and Dorrie would not allow him to pawn the diamond-studded watch which he once had bought for her with real money when he was flush. He even had to submit to the indignity of signing on at the Labour Exchange. On being told that no money was immediately available for him there, he sank lower in his own estimation and went to the National Assistance office. He stood in a queue, feeling contaminated in a shower of mugs whose only idea of easy money was to get the wife in the family way often enough to fill the house with kids, and then live on the money doled out so that the kids wouldn't starve. This indignity Cain had to suffer in order to keep the home going until his geese turned out to be swans. Life was hard.

  When it was his turn at the National Assistance, he was asked certain questions. He answered, to the effect that he was not receiving unemployment benefit, that he was married, that he had no children.

  'Is your wife in good health?' the clerk asked.

  'Yes, she ails nothing,' Cain replied.

  'Couldn't she go out to work, till you get a job?'

  Cain's lip curled. He thought that this fussy little man was taking too much on himself, as indeed he may have been. 'What is this?' he demanded loudly. 'A welfare state or a slave state? Who are you to tell my wife when to go out to work?'

  The clerk was discomfited. These people! Ungrateful, they were. He referred no more to the matter of Mrs. Cain.

  'Who were your last employers?' he wanted to know.

  'Her Majesty's Prison Commissioners,' was the cool reply.

  'In what capacity? I mean, have you a trade?'

  'I'm an unemployed burglar,' Cain said. He didn't care. He knew they'd have to give him something anyway. They couldn't afford to turn a burglar out into the cold, cold snow with nothing in his pocket. That would be encouraging crime, that would.

  The clerk was further discomfited, and of course annoyed. But Cain stared at him brazenly while he waited for a reply. Several men in the queue behind him must have heard the remark, but only one of them laughed. He turned to look. One man was gazing at him with contempt, and he was the only one who looked like a decent fellow. Three more were shabby layabouts whom Cain wouldn't have had at ten a penny. The one who had laughed—he was still grinning—was an ugly, thickset specimen with a round red face and beady brown eyes. Cain liked him least of all.

  He turned back to the window. The clerk had made out a pay slip. He pushed it forward and pointed to the cashier's window without speaking. He had had enough of Cain.

  Cain looked at the sum written on the slip. 'Pah!' he exclaimed as he turned away. The ugly man laughed again.

  At the cashier's window there was some delay. Cain had to wait, and the men who had been behind him in the queue were paid before him. As he walked out of the place he found Ugly waiting for him in the lobby.

  'They aren't open yet,' Ugly said, with a northern accent. 'But come on, I'll buy you a cupper tea an' a tram-stopper.'

  Cain looked him up and down. He was sarcastic. 'Do I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?'

  'Happen not. But unless you're naught but a big blabmouth I'd like to talk to you.'

  Cain was incredulous. Who did this little Lancashire hotpot think he was? He decided to give the man a chance to talk himself into a smack on the beak. 'Can you really afford it?' he asked loftily.

  'Do you allus act like it was half a dollar to talk to you?'

  'For a hobbledehoy like you it could cost more.'

  'That's a personal remark. Insultin', I call it. You might think that's clever, but I don't.'

  Cain grinned, and shrugged.

  'Happen you're not the man I thought you were,' Ugly said. 'I don't think you'll do for me.' He turned away.

  Cain did not like that. Now he was the one who was being turned down. He asked: 'What was it you wanted?'

  The man stopped. 'I wanted to talk, like I said. To find out if you're the right sort of feller. Well, I think I've fun' out.'

  'I doubt it. I'll come along and listen to you. I have a few minutes to spare.'

  Over a cup of tea and a ham sandwich Cain learned that the hotpot's name was Leo Husker. He looked at the hard eyes under the little beaky nose and decided that Husker was at least a man, and probably not a fool. And yet, in a way, he talked like a fool.

  'Is it right you're a burglar, or were it a bit o' cod?'

  'Hey, hey!' Cain reproved. 'You can't go around talking like that.'

  'Well, you did.'

  'I suppose I did. What do you want? To ghost my reminiscences?'

  'I don't know naught about ghosts, but I know how to use an oxygen cuttin' tool.'

  'Oh, you do? And do you go about telling everybody?'

  'No, I'm tellin' you.'

  Cain reflected that this geezer was dead serious. He looked around. They were at a table in a corner of the snack bar, and nobody could hear their talk.

  'Lots of blokes can use XXC.'

  'Is that what you call oxy-acetylene? Happen lots can use it, but I'm an expert, an' I know where to get the tackle. Besides, the police don't know me. No police, nowhere, know me. They wouldn't come lookin' for me after I done summat.'

  'You've got no form?'

  'Form?'

  'You have no police record?'

  'I did a bit of pinchin' when I were twelve. Probation, I got. That's been forgotten.'

  'You've nothing since?'

  'Nothin'.'

  Cain found that he was becoming really interested. 'H'm,' he said thoughtfully. 'The coppers won't have your dabs, then. Not that it matters. Everybody I work with has to wear gloves all the time.'

  'You wear gloves when you're cuttin' steel, all right.'

  Cain had no practical experience of XXC, but he had heard talk. He had met men in prison who had done very well out of it. The equipment was cumbersome, but the actual business of opening a safe was both quick and quiet.

  'There's more to it than just burning a hole in a safe door,' he said.

  'Happen there is. That's why I'm talkin' to you.'

  'Well,' Cain admitted, 'I'm not really what you'd call a burglar. I organize jobs. A while back I had the tidiest little mob you ever saw, and we did some nice work. Quick grabs was more our line. Jewelry, furs, payrolls. Then one day I got picked up by two bogies who'd happened to see my clock in the picture book, and they run me in for something I never done. When I come out of the nick, where's my mob? Scattered to the four winds. Three of 'em is inside, for a long time. Without me to look after 'em, they soon got theirselves done. That's what I mean when I talk about my line. I'm sort of a team manager.'

  'But now you don't have a team.'

  'I can soon get a team. But the payroll snatch isn't what it was. They got armoured cars now. So I might consider tickling a peter or two.'

  'I was thinkin' of one big bank job, then divvy up an' fade away.'

  'Have you got the griff?'

  'Griff
?'

  Really, this man was ignorant. Cain explained. 'Have you got the place in your notebook? Some particular bank you've got your gleamers on?'

  Husker shook his head. 'I were just thinkin' of banks in a general way.'

  'Banks are big jobs. You need to be a real expert. It isn't just a matter of opening a strongroom, though that's hard enough. They've got burglar alarms you've no means of finding, and they're silent. They just flash a light and ring a bell down the road. You walk through solenoid rays, too. You have a copper feeling your collar before you know what day it is. No, I'd have to be real team-handed before I tackled a bank. And I'd need a professor or two on the team.'

  Husker looked disappointed.

  'With a bank job you've got to case the tickle for weeks, and you're liable to get noticed and remembered,' Cain told him. 'Mostly it's a tunnelling job, and then you come up against a strongroom like Fort Knox, and the alarm is going before you can even touch it. Commercial premises are better than banks. Cosy little places with a thousand or two in the safe, and the safe not bang up-to-date, and no watchman. You pick 'em and you do 'em. With the XXC, how long would it take you to burn a hole in an ordinary sort of safe, like you might find in the Co-operative stores?'

  'Happen twenty minutes, happen less.'

  'Not bad at all. 'Course it's been done before many a time, and lots of fellows who've done it are now in durance vile, as they say. That's where I come in. I organize it so's we don't get caught. I keep the lads in hand, so's they don't go flashin' their money around, or telling it all to a judy. Some geezers are so silly you wouldn't believe. They come out, do a job and get some crinkle, pick up a fairy to bed down with and tell her all about it, they then find theirselves back in the same cell before they've took their number down.'

  'How do you go about your organizin'?'

  Cain raised a finger. 'Don't you worry your head about that. Leave it to me. The first thing is to get team-handed. I know some good boys. I've got one in mind already, one of the best picklocks in the business. Had you thought how we were going to get into the place, to get at the safe?'

  Husker confessed that he had no constructive ideas about getting into a place.

  'And,' Cain pursued, 'had you thought how we were going to put in all that XXC stuff without being noticed? And how we were going to transport it? I can arrange all that.'

  'You think you're good. Happen you are.'

  'I'm so good the cops never got me right, except through some other fool acting the goat. That's another thing, you see, picking your men. You need good mates who can carry corn, though you don't always get 'em.'

  'You can trust me. I can carry corn.'

  'That's what they all say. We're only talking about this thing yet.'

  'Well, you're talkin', I'll admit.'

  'I'm having to talk because you don't seem to know nothing. When I start working on it, that'll be different. Nobody will talk. Nobody. Nothing is decided yet, but when I get going you'll know you're in a real mob.'

  Husker tried to look impressed.

  Cain went on: 'You're sure about your cutting equipment?'

  'I'm sure. I can get it easy and safe. But like you said, I'll need transport.'

  'Will you get it somewhere in London?'

  'No. Far from London.'

  'That'll be better, because London is where we'll start operating. Right. I'll give the matter some thought. We won't keep on meeting at the same place. See that pub across the road? I'll meet you there at twelve noon tomorrow.'

  'Twelve o'clock. Right.'

  'And in the meantime, you haven't seen me.'

  'I don't know you from Adam,' Husker said.

  'Fine,' Cain replied.

  They parted without a handshake.

  * * * * *

  Cain was late home for lunch that day, because he had been following Husker about London for three hours. During that time he perceived something which he had often been told—that London is the loneliest city in the world for a friendless stranger. Husker spoke to nobody except to order food or drink, and he was not spoken to. He was not seen to make a telephone call. He had a few glasses of beer, standing solitary at a bar. He had a meal at a cheap restaurant. He went into a news theatre. Cain followed him into the theatre, and saw that he sat apart, not close enough to make contact with anybody. After the news theatre, Cain left him.

  Husker seemed all right. But it was only the beginning. Cain did talk a lot when his brain was seething with ideas. With regard to specific plans he was the most silent of men. And he was cautious in his choice of partners in crime. His next sentence, he knew, would be ten years P.D. He did not intend to serve any such sentence.

  3

  Cain saw Husker twice, and talked inconclusively, before he found Ned France. The encounter was in a Soho club, where Cain had gone in search of Bill Coggan, one of the best wheel men he knew.

  Cain said: 'Hello, Jimmy. I been looking for you.'

  France merely nodded, and held out his hand palm uppermost. Until he remembered, Cain looked at the hand in surprise, then he said: 'I haven't come to pay you back. Not yet.'

  'Oh. Well, I can't spare any more.'

  'Be nice, be nice. I came to talk business.'

  'You're goin' into business?' France clipped some of his words, but not in the way that Husker did. His speech was a drawl, Husker's was a burr. The accents of the two men were a world apart.

  'I hope so. And I'm thinking you might come in with me.'

  'Oh,' France said again. His face was expressionless.

  'You think I want you to put up some nicker. Well, I don't. I'll put up the cash, and for that I get an extra share of the take.'

  'How much money?'

  'Enough to set us up with the tackle, and a car.'

  'I thought you were hard up.'

  'I am,' Cain said. His hand moved, and a diamond-studded wrist watch lay in the palm of it. It was a beautiful watch.

  'Where did you get that?' France queried.

  'Did you ever meet my wife, Dorrie?'

  The other man's wary face relaxed a little. 'Yes, I've met her once or twice. With you.'

  'Once seen never forgotten, eh? I gave her this watch once, when I was in the money. I bought it straight, from a shop, and I got a receipt to prove it. It's a Jaeger Le Coultre and I can pledge it for as much as I need. As long as I don't sell it outright, it'll be all right. So, like I said, I get an extra share.'

  'An extra share of what?'

  'Some moderate tickles for what we can find in 'em. A thousand, two thousand. No real modern safes, no burglar alarms. I need somebody who can find the way in for us.'

  'You've got somebody who can do the peters?'

  'Yeh. That's arranged.'

  'What will he use?'

  'I'll tell you that when you're in.'

  'H'm. I'll have to think about it.'

  'Are you serious when you say that, or just putting me off?'

  'I'm serious. If I didn't fancy it I'd tell you so.'

  'In that case I'll tell you. It's XXC. That's why we won't be tackling any bank vaults.'

  'The equipment is clumsy.'

  'I know how we'll handle it. It's quick and it's quiet. It'll do for us.'

  'Cash only?'

  'We take cash only. We'll divvy up after every job.'

  'What shares, and who'll be sharin'?'

  'Thirty per cent for me, twenty for the peterman because he also provides the XXC, twenty for you, because you're an expert at getting in, fifteen for a driver because he'll have to be good, ten for the spare man and general mugabout, five per cent to share between Dorrie and her sister, to keep 'em happy. Those girls will be useful. They know their way around.'

  'The XXC man agrees to that?'

  'Yes. He needs us more than we need him.'

  'He's all right?'

  'I think so. He's an amateur with no form at all, but XXC was his trade. I been following him around for the last three days, and seen nothing wrong. He d
on't seem to know nobody. Tomorrow I'll take you to meet him, if you like.'

  'Everything else is arranged?'

  'No. I'm still wanting two men. But I've got a car laid on. It's a wrong 'un, but it's been nicely changed. The coppers'll need X-ray eyes to spot it. I'm going to modify it to carry our stuff.'

  'You seem to know what you're doing,' France admitted.

  'I do, boy, I do. If everybody does what I say, we'll do fine.'

  * * * * *

  The following day, after a meeting, Husker and France were invited to tea at Cain's snug abode in a street just off the Caledonian Road, and less than half a mile from Pentonville Prison. With regard to this Cain remarked in jest that he liked to be near to his work.

  The house was a surprise to the visitors. Humble in aspect from the outside, it seemed to have been furnished without regard to expense, no doubt at a time when Cain was in funds. Comfort and quality had been the watchword, possibly due to his wife's intuitive conviction that the furniture and fabrics would have to last a long, long time.

  'I could've had a place in Hampstead, or some other toffee-nosed district,' Cain remarked modestly. 'I preferred to stick around here. Low upkeep when you're in the nick, you know. No servant problem, either. Dorrie can keep this place clean with one hand tied behind her.'

  France grinned at the idea of Cain keeping servants, but Husker's shoe-button eyes were dulled in a way which showed that he was impressed, and even somewhat awed. But the little eyes gleamed when Dorrie appeared. This reaction was noted by the other two men. Husker was not quite the unfeeling clod he appeared to be. He was susceptible, and immediately so. In the hands of an attractive woman, would he be susceptible enough to become indiscreet? If that were so, he was not good enough for any mob in which Cain and France shared membership.