1958 - The World in My Pocket Page 5

  Kitson shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought about it, but we haven’t got it yet.’

  ‘I bet you’ll buy a big car,’ Gypo said, digging his fat fingers into the sandy soil and lifting a handful of it and letting it trickle through his fingers. ‘That right? I’ve never known another guy handle a car the way you do. You deserve a fast, big car, the way you drive, then you’ll find yourself a girl: a car and a girl, and maybe some sharp clothes.’ He shook his head, grinning. ‘What about this Ginny Gordon: some dish, huh? What did you think of her, kid? That shape, huh? I’ll tell you something: that’s the way the best Italian girls are built with that solid behind, the narrow waist and the water wings. I guess she’s a little young for me, otherwise I’d think about her, but she’s okay for you, kid. She and you would look right. You don’t have to worry about the way she acts. That’s just on the surface. When a woman has her build, she’s made for love. You could melt her down. All that hardness, those eyes of hers; it doesn’t mean a thing: it’s her heart you have to talk to.’

  Kitson listened, feeling the hot sun burning down on the back of his neck. If anyone but Gypo had talked to him like this, he would have told them to shut up, but Gypo was different. Gypo said exactly what was in his mind, and thinking about what he had said, Kitson wondered about the girl. Maybe Gypo was right. Maybe she was made for love, but when he remembered the cold, impersonal sea-green eyes he doubted it.

  ‘Look, kid, you talk to me,’ Gypo said, his eyes closed and his moon-shaped face offered to the sun. ‘You tell me what’s in your mind. I’m interested in you. Maybe that strikes you as funny, but I mean it. Last night, after I had made up my mind to do this job, I thought about you. I knew you were like me. You didn’t want this job, did you? I didn’t either, then suddenly you said yes. Why did you do it, kid?’

  Kitson wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Why did you, Gypo?’

  ‘There was something about that girl,’ Gypo said. ‘When she came into the room, looking the way she looked, and when she came out with her plan, I got a feeling of confidence. When Frank explained the job, I didn’t want anything to do with it. Then when that girl came in - I don’t know, somehow she made it seem possible. I suddenly realized what all that money could buy. I thought what a bang my ma would get to see me drive up in an Alfa Romeo and in a good suit - it sort of made all the things I’ve dreamed about jell.’

  ‘Yeah, there was something about her,’ Kitson said uneasily. ‘I felt the same way.’ He hadn’t the courage to admit to Gypo that he had voted with the rest of them because he was afraid of the girl’s contempt. He had no hope that this job would succeed. It was a bad one; too big for them; he was sure of that, and he felt a sudden surge of pity for Gypo because he was living out a dream: this was the one job they wouldn’t get away with.

  ‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ Gypo said. ‘She’s only a kid, and yet there’s that thing about her,’ he broke off abruptly and lifted his head, his small black eyes suddenly alert.

  Kitson stared at him.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I heard something,’ Gypo said. He was motionless, listening. ‘Something moved. It wouldn’t be a snake, kid?’

  ‘A snake? So what? A snake wouldn’t come near us,’ Kitson said irritably. He wanted to continue the conversation about the girl. She was the most important subject in the world to him.

  ‘This could be snake country,’ Gypo said. His fat squat body was rigid. ‘I’ll tell you something, kid. I’ve a horror of snakes. I thought I heard something move over there.’

  Frowning, Kitson rolled over on his side and looked to where Gypo was pointing.

  ‘Forget it,’ he said, annoyed with Gypo for having broken the trend of the conversation. ‘No snake is going to get anywhere near you unless you bother it.’

  ‘My kid brother was killed by a snake,’ Gypo said, his voice tense. ‘He was lying just the way I am and this snake came from nowhere and bit him in the face. He died before I could get him home. He was around ten: imagine that: a lovely kid; fat like butter and as brown as a nut. This snake . . .’

  ‘For the love of Mike!’ Kitson broke in. ‘Why the hell should I want to hear about your brother? Okay, so he was bitten by a snake. It could happen to anyone. Let it lie, will you?’

  Gypo lifted his head and looked at him reproachfully.

  ‘You wouldn’t talk like that if he had been your brother,’ he said. ‘It’s something I’ll never forget. It’s given me a horror of snakes.’

  ‘How the hell did we get talking about snakes?’ Kitson said. ‘We were talking about this girl, and then all of a sudden we have this crap about snakes and your brother.’

  ‘I thought I heard something.’

  ‘So okay, you heard something. So what? Get this snake crap out of your mind, will you?’

  Gypo started to say something when he saw in the distance a cloud of dust. He put his hand on Kitson’s arm and pointed.

  ‘Think that’s them?’

  Kitson stared down the long, twisting road and he felt a sudden cold lump of fear form at the back of his throat. Instinctively, he wedged his body closer into the ground, and he put out his hand, pressing Gypo down as he said in a whisper, ‘Yes: here they come!’

  Both men remained motionless, watching the approaching truck.

  It came at a surprising speed, scattering dust as it approached the bottleneck. Taking the bend, it was for a moment lost to sight, then it came around the bend, moving more slowly and more cautiously and Kitson glanced at his wristwatch, noting the time as the truck passed through the bottleneck.

  They had a brief but impressive view of the driver and the guard as the truck swept past.

  Gypo sat up, his eyes taking in as much of the truck as his brain could memorize.

  They watched the truck turn the next bend and disappear in a cloud of dust, and then both men relaxed, looking at each other uneasily.

  ‘It looks tough,’ Gypo said and started to scratch under his armpit. ‘Did you see those two? Santa Maria! They look pretty tough too!’

  Kitson had had a good view of both the driver and the guard as the truck had gone past. He knew these two men fairly intimately. He had warned Morgan about them, but now, seeing them sitting behind the windshield of the truck, he realized how formidable they were, and he had a cold clutch of fear when he thought that in a few days, he would be having a showdown with them.

  ‘What are you worrying about?’ he said as casually as he could. ‘You don’t have to tackle them. Okay, so they’re tough. What do you think we are - powder puffs, like she said?’

  Gypo shook his head, his face uneasy.

  ‘Those two look mean to me. I’m glad I don’t have to tackle them.’

  Kitson took out his notebook and wrote down the time the truck had passed through the bottleneck.

  ‘Who asked you to tackle them anyway?’ he said curtly. ‘Morgan and Bleck will take care of them.’

  ‘And the girl,’ Gypo said. ‘She has the toughest end of it. A girl like that. I keep thinking what she said about if he grabbed her gun she would shoot him. Do you think she meant it?’

  Kitson had been thinking about that too and he had wondered about it. He could see the sea-green eyes, her tense expression and he grimaced.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He got up on to his knees and looked up and down the road. ‘Let’s get going. How do you feel about busting open that truck?’

  ‘Frank says I can have three to four weeks to work on it,’

  Gypo said. ‘That’s a cinch. Give me the right tools and that amount of time and there’s nothing ever made that I couldn’t bust into. No matter how tough the job is, so long as you’ve got the time, you can fix it. Frank says three to four weeks. Okay, in that time, I’ll fix it.’

  ‘That’s what Frank says,’ Kitson said looking at Gypo, ‘but suppose something goes wrong; suppose the pressure’s on, how fast could you bust that truck, Gypo?�
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  Gypo’s fat face showed sudden uneasiness.

  ‘Why talk like that? Frank says three or four weeks. Okay, up to now Frank has been right, hasn’t he? That’s a tough truck. Even a guy like you with no experience of metal or locks can see that. It wants working at: slow, steady, with plenty of time. You couldn’t bust that one open fast.’

  ‘I’ll get the car,’ Kitson said. ‘You wait here.’

  Gypo watched him go, his fat face worried.

  Then he thought of the girl with her cold assured sea-green eyes, her arrogant stare as she had faced Kitson, and he felt more confident.

  Why make too much fuss about this job? he thought, feeling the hot sun beating down on him. Frank had said it was all right and up to now, everything Frank had said was all right, had been all right. This girl had all the confidence in the world about the job. He wouldn’t have the dangerous end of the job to handle. His job was to bust open the truck, and Frank had promised him he would have from three to four weeks to work at it. Anyone who worked in metal and knew locks could get into anything, no matter how tough, in that time.

  The Welling Armoured truck drove on towards the Rocket Research station. Neither the driver nor the guard was aware that they had been timed and scrutinized.

  They continued on their way, leaving a cloud of white dust behind them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I

  Morgan had called a meeting for eight o’clock and Bleck was a little early. He arrived at Lu Strieger’s Poolroom at seven forty-five for no other reason except his watch was fast. He moved through the crowded, smoke-hazed bar to where Strieger, a red-faced, enormously fat man was watching a game of pool.

  ‘Anyone gone up yet, Lu?’ Bleck asked.

  ‘No, but the door’s unlocked. Help yourself,’ Strieger said.

  ‘I’ll have a Scotch,’ Bleck said, and when Strieger had served him, he wandered off into a corner of the room and sat down, pushing his hat to the back of his head and loosening his tie.

  Bleck was feeling off-colour and moody that night. This café holdup idea of Morgan’s worried him.

  Bleck had begun with many more advantages than the other three. His father had been a successful storekeeper who had given his son a good education. He had wanted him to become a doctor, but the drudgery of study had been too much for Bleck. After a couple of years at college he had suddenly quit and had left home. He had become a car salesman and, at the same time, had discovered an insatiable appetite for women. He had spent more than he had earned, and when his debts had got out of hand, he had helped himself to the contents of the firm’s safe which had amounted to nearly four thousand dollars. He had been under the mistaken impression that he had covered his tracks, and it came as a shock to him when two detectives closed in on him before he had had the chance of spending more than two hundred dollars of the loot. He went to prison for six months. This happened when he was twenty-two. Since then he had served two further sentences in prison: one of two years and one of four. He had now a horror of prison.

  While serving his last sentence, he had met Morgan who was completing his fifteenth year: a sentence that had turned Bleck’s blood cold. They came out together, and when Morgan suggested they should join forces, Bleck had agreed.

  He had agreed because of Morgan’s reputation. Those in the know had told him that Morgan was going to be Mr. Big one of these days. They said that sooner or later Morgan would pull the big one, and when he did, it would be a job to remember.

  Bleck was thirty-five, and he knew his future would be bleak unless he was prepared to put everything into a gamble that offered the highest possible return. He had a feeling that Morgan was big enough to handle a job that would put him in the money for the rest of his life.

  As he sat in the corner of the poolroom, sipping his whisky, Bleck’s mind dwelt on his share of the money they would get from the truck. Two hundred thousand dollars! He would travel. He would try out the girls in every country in Europe. He would go to Monte Carlo and bust the bank there. He would. . .

  Then he saw Ginny Gordon come in and his daydreams were abruptly interrupted. She came through the smoke haze, her chin tilted, her eyes hostile while the men in the poolroom stared at her, grinning at each other, winking and nudging. If it hadn’t been that Lu Strieger didn’t stand for mashing in his poolroom, she would have been besieged as she entered the bar.

  Some dish, Bleck thought, eyeing her as she paused at the door that gave on to the steep staircase that led to the room Strieger rented to those who wanted some privacy.

  Ginny was wearing a pair of black slacks, tight across her seat, and a bottle-green shirt, open at the neck.

  But she’s a toughie, Bleck thought, finishing his whisky. Where does she come from? She could be fun. Maybe I’ll soften her up a little. After the job, we might go places together for a week or so. She’s got spirit, and with a body like that.

  He got to his feet and crossed the room and followed the girl up the stairs. He overtook her as she reached the landing.

  ‘Hi, Ginny,’ he said. ‘We’re the first two. Those pants certainly suit your geography.’

  She turned and looked at him. Her sea-green eyes were disconcertingly bleak.

  ‘Think so?’ she said, then she opened the door and entered the room, flicking on the light as she did so. She went over to the table and sat down. Opening her bag, she took out a comb and a mirror and began to tidy her copper-coloured hair.

  Bleck pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. He stared admiringly at her, watching the way her breasts lifted under the soft material of her shirt as she raised her arms.

  ‘Well, if s fixed for tonight,’ he said. ‘Scared?’

  She put the comb and mirror away and took out a pack of cigarettes.

  ‘Scared? What’s there to be scared about?’ she asked, indifferently.

  ‘You’re pretty cool,’ Bleck said, staring at her. ‘I don’t believe you are scared.’

  He reached across the table, offering the flame of his cigarette lighter.

  For a long moment she studied the flame before leaning forward to dip the end of her cigarette into it. Her full, red lips curved into a smile that came and went so quickly Bleck wasn’t sure if she had smiled.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, his voice sharpening.

  Again her eyes went to the flame of the lighter and he looked at it too. He saw it was far from steady, and he realized his hand was shaking. He snapped out the flame and sat back, forcing a grin.

  ‘You’re right. I’m scared, and I’ll tell you why.’ He folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. ‘I’m scared we’ll foul up this job tonight and sour the big one. I don’t like this job. I tried to talk Frank out of it. It would be safer and easier to stickup that service station at Dukas, but he won’t have it. With this cafe job, someone might turn brave. If that happens you have a shooting on your hands. If someone gets shot tonight, the heat’ll be on so bad the big one could come unstuck.’

  She let smoke drift down her nostrils as she stared at him.

  ‘Then we must take care no one does turn brave.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘Is it? If you show a vicious dog you’re not scared of it, it’ll behave. It’s the same with brave people.’

  Bleck frowned.

  ‘I can’t make you out. Have you worked for a mob before?’

  Her eyes became cloudy.

  ‘Then don’t make me out,’ she said curtly.

  Bleck shrugged.

  ‘Okay, if you want to play it mysterious, go ahead. But remember this: you have the toughest end of the job tonight. You have to collect the wallets. Some guy might make a grab at you. So watch it.’

  Because he was so uneasy about the job himself, he hoped she too would become uneasy, but there was no change in her expression as she said, ‘No one will make a grab at me.’

  The door opened and Kitson and Gypo came in.
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br />   Kitson paused abruptly when he saw Ginny and Bleck alone together and his face flushed, his eyes becoming angry.

  ‘Here comes the bridegroom,’ Bleck said, and he began to sing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March in a raucous voice.

  Gypo chuckled, his small black eyes dancing with merriment.

  He thought the joke harmless and a good one.

  Kitson turned white.

  ‘Shut up!’ His voice shook. ‘Cut it out!’

  Bleck stopped singing and leaned back in his chair, a jeering grin on his face.

  ‘So what? You and she? He waved towards Ginny who sat motionless, her eyes on Kitson. ‘You two are the newlyweds, aren’t you? Frank said you and she were renting the caravan for your honeymoon.’

  ‘I said cut it out!’ Kitson said.

  ‘What’s biting you, stupe? Don’t you want to have a honeymoon with her?’ Bleck said. ‘You have the soft end of this job. What could be nicer than to have a baby like her all alone in a caravan: that is if you know what to do when you’ve got her alone.’

  Kitson took two quick steps that brought him to the table. His fist flashed up and slammed against Bleck’s jaw. Bleck went over backwards, taking the chair with him and landed on the floor with a crash that shook the room. He sprawled there, staring up at Kitson, his eyes dazed.

  ‘Get up, you louse!’ Kitson said, ‘and I’ll shove your teeth through the back of your head!’

  ‘Hey, kid!’ Gypo cried, horrified.

  He grabbed hold of Kitson’s arm, but Kitson gave him a shove that sent him reeling across the room.

  Bleck shook his head. His eyes became full of hate as he stared up at Kitson.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to take you, you punch-drunk bum,’ he said. ‘Now I’ll show you what fighting really means.’