1958 - The World in My Pocket (13 page)

‘You bet I’m the boss,’ Morgan said, then he swung around to stare fixedly at Kitson. ‘What do you say?’

Morgan didn’t scare Kitson, but Ginny did. If she had the nerve to go through with this, he knew he had to, too.

‘I just asked the question,’ he said, staring back at Morgan. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘Okay,’ Morgan said, relaxing a little. ‘You’ve got your answer. Now I can get on or do you two want to waste some more time?’

‘Go ahead,’ Kitson said, his face flushing.

‘Once on the highway,’ Morgan said, ‘we head for Fawn Lake. There’s a big caravan camp there, and that’s where we’re going to plant the caravan, slap bang in the middle of two hundred other caravans. We should get to Fawn Lake by midday. There are cabins around the lake and Kitson will hire one.’ Morgan’s voice was harsh now, his temper still edgy. He looked

at Kitson. ‘You’ll park the caravan close to the cabin. You and Ginny will act like honeymooners. You’ll fish, swim and enjoy yourselves. You’ll let people know you are on your honeymoon and you want to keep to yourselves. While you are creating this atmosphere, Gypo, Ed and me will be working on the truck.’

‘For Pete’s sake!’ Bleck exclaimed, an exasperated note in his voice. ‘This bum certainly has picked himself the soft end of the job!’

Kitson started to his feet, his fists clenched, his face red with anger.

Morgan snapped, ‘Pipe down, will you?’ The snap in his voice made Kitson pause. ‘Look, Ed, just listen to me. We are a team. Kitson gets the honeymoon end of the job because he can handle a car better than any of us can. You cut out picking on him or you and me will have trouble. I’m getting sick of the way you lot are beefing. The only one who keeps her mouth shut is Ginny. If this job is going to be pulled, we’ve got to work as a team. Remember that and shut up!’

Bleck shrugged.

‘Okay, okay. Can’t I make a remark?’

Morgan stared at him for a long moment, then when Bleck’s eyes shifted, he said, ‘As soon as the caravan is parked, Gypo starts to work on the truck. It won’t be easy. There isn’t much room to work in, and it’ll be hot in the caravan, but that’s something you’ll have to put up with, Gypo. Ed and me will remain in the cab of the truck out of your way. If you want any help, we’re right there to give it to you. We three have the rugged end of it because we’ll have to stay in the caravan until it is dark. When it is dark, we’ll move into the cabin for the night, but we’ve got to be back in the caravan as soon as it is light. We can’t take the risk of being seen by anyone. We’ll have to be careful. We may have to move on if Gypo finds the job is going to take some time. If we have to, we’ll go up into the mountains, but I don’t want to go up there. I’m worried the Buick won’t haul the load and we’d look damned cockeyed if we got stuck.’ He looked over at Gypo. ‘Any questions?’

‘You mean you want me to work on the truck while it’s still in the caravan?’ Gypo asked. ‘I couldn’t use the flame in there, Frank. It’d be seen through the curtains, and besides, it would be dangerous. The caravan could catch fire.’

‘Maybe you won’t have to use the flame,’ Morgan said. ‘The time-lock will have operated by then. Maybe you’ll be able to find the combination.’

Gypo nodded, his face clearing.

Morgan slid off the workbench and stretched.

‘Well, that’s the plan. It’s pretty comprehensive, but it’s not perfect: no plan is. I’m pretty certain we’ll be able to keep the truck hidden. No one’ll think of looking for it inside a caravan among hundreds of caravans. That’s the brightest part of the plan.’ He looked over at Ginny. ‘That was smart, kid: really smart.’

‘It’ll work,’ she said. ‘Just so long as you all do what you have got to do.’

The cold, determined expression in her eyes bothered Kitson. He remembered what Gypo had said about a girl like her with a body like hers was made for love. Now watching the cold, set face and the hard eyes he decided Gypo had been romancing.

‘Well, I guess that’s it,’ Morgan said, looking at his watch. ‘Ed, you and Kitson, take Gypo’s car and take a ride around the car parks. I want a sports car tonight. When you’ve found it, bring it here and Gypo will do a spray job on it. You two get off now.’

Scowling, because he didn’t fancy spending the evening in Bleck’s company, Kitson got to his feet and slouched over to the door.

Bleck followed him, whistling under his breath, winking at Ginny as he passed her. Ginny stared blankly back at him, but Bleck continued to grin, and he paused at the door to wink again. A few moments later they heard the Lincoln start up and drive away.

‘All I want you to do, Ginny,’ Morgan said, ‘is to organize the food. Get a couple of baskets and buy canned food.’ He took some money from his pocket and gave it to her. ‘Get stuff that will keep and put a couple of bottles of Scotch in the basket. There’s nothing else for you to do. We’ll see you here on Friday morning at eight. Okay?’

‘Yes.’

From the writing pad, she tore out two pages of notes she had made and gave them to him.

‘Can I drop you anywhere?’ he asked, knowing what the answer would be. ‘It’s still raining.’

She put on her plastic mac, shaking her head.

‘No, thanks. I’ll take the bus.’ She looked at him. ‘You think this is going to work out all right, don’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You think so too, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She hesitated, then nodded. ‘Well, so long.’ She nodded to Gypo and then went quickly out into the rain.

Gypo was feeling pretty shaky. Only the thought of laying his hands on two hundred thousand dollars and the silent threat from Morgan kept him together. He was scared of this job now. If something went wrong! If the cops caught him! Santa Maria! What would his mother think?

Morgan patted him on the shoulder.

‘Relax,’ he said. ‘This time next week, you’re going to have the world in your pocket. That’s worth taking a risk for, isn’t it? I’ll be down tomorrow morning. You’ve done a swell job on the caravan, Gypo. Be seeing you,’ and giving Gypo a gentle punch on his chest, Morgan left him.

II

A
s Kitson drove towards the big parking lot at the back of the Gaumont Cinema, his mind was in a state of confusion. He had no hope that this job would succeed. He had now committed himself to a murder rap. This would have frightened him had it not been for what Morgan had said. He and Ginny were to act as honeymooners. They were to swim and dance and have a good time together, and knowing by now how thorough Ginny was in everything she did, Kitson had no doubt that she would act out her part as if it were the real thing.

The thought of having two or three days in such close intimacy with her more than counterbalanced the fear of failure and eventual arrest.

Bleck lounging beside him in the Lincoln watched him out of the corners of his eyes.

‘Hey, kid,’ he said abruptly, ‘maybe I should tip you off. I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas about Ginny. She and I have an understanding. When this job’s over, we’re joining up. I promised her I’d show her Paris and London. I thought I’d mention it in case you were getting ideas of your own.’

Kitson nearly drove into the back of a truck that had slowed down before stopping at the traffic lights as the red came up. He felt as if someone had given him a hard blow under his heart. He managed to pull up and he turned to glare at Bleck.

‘You’re lying!’ he said furiously. ‘She wouldn’t go any place with you, you jerk! You’re lying!’

Bleck was pleased to see how Kitson had immediately risen to the bait, looking like an infuriated bull.

‘Yeah?’ He laughed. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, stupe. She’s more likely to go around with a guy like me than you. After all I’ve had education. You - well, you’d look pretty silly trying to order a meal in Paris, taking her any place with class with that squashed snout of yours. You can’t even read, can you?’

‘You shut up!’ Kitson said, ‘or I’ll take a poke at you.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Bleck said, with a sudden rasp in his voice. ‘Last time you took me by surprise, but don’t try it again, bum. You’ll think the bomb had hit you.’

Kitson half turned, ready to swing a punch, when a horn blasted behind him, bringing him to his senses. He saw the traffic light had changed to green and the cars ahead of him were almost out of sight. Breathing heavily and muttering under his breath, he sent the car forward.

‘Yeah,’ Bleck went on, delighting in needling Kitson. ‘I had a talk with her the other day and we got around to Paris. I was over there a couple of years ago and I got to know the place. She said she always wanted.’

‘Will you shut up!’ Kitson exclaimed, ‘or I’ll stop the car and I’ll shut you up!’

‘Okay, okay,’ Bleck said patronizingly. ‘I just wanted to warn you when you are playing the lovesick groom to remember I’ve got the first claim. If you don’t remember, then you and me will have trouble.’

They reached the parking lot before Kitson could think of a suitable rejoinder. He was suddenly depressed. A girl like Ginny could fall for a smooth operator like Bleck: a guy who knew his way around, who had education and who probably did know Paris like he said. That was opposition that overwhelmed Kitson. He wasn’t sure either if he could take Bleck in a fight. Bleck was fourteen pounds heavier than Kitson, and he was in good condition. Kitson had seen him fight once in a saloon brawl and he had been impressed by the weight of Bleck’s punching. He was a savage, ruthless fighter with every dirty trick for disabling a man up his sleeve.

When they arrived at the parking lot they found there was no attendant to look after the cars parked in two long rows.

As the two men got out, Bleck said, ‘You take the top row. I’ll take the other. If you find anything, whistle.’

The two men separated, and Kitson walked fast along the long line of cars, his mind seething. He kept trying to assure himself that Bleck had been lying about Ginny and he joining up together, but it worried him. At least, he told himself, he would have a couple of days – three with luck - with her alone, and he decided this would be his one chance to win her if she was to be won, which he felt doubtful about. There were moments when she looked so hard and wooden, Kitson wondered if any man could possibly win her.

He paused abruptly as he came upon an MG two-seater sports car, parked between a Cadillac and a Jaguar. This would do, he told himself, and, looking quickly to right and left to make sure no one was in sight, he went to the car and examined it.

He had a small flashlight with him, and with the aid of its beam he checked the car over. In the glove compartment he found the ignition key. He whistled to Bleck, who he could see walking along the lower row of cars.

Bleck joined him.

‘This looks okay,’ Kitson said, ‘and the ignition key’s here.’

Bleck studied the car and nodded.

‘Yeah. You’re getting smart, plough boy.’ He looked at Kitson with a jeering smile. ‘Well, you drive it to Gypo. Since you’ve been elected as the bright boy driver and since you’ve got the soft end of the job, you may as well take a little risk now before you start making sheep’s eyes at Ginny.’

This was more than Kitson could stomach. Without thinking, he slammed his fist at Bleck’s head. Bleck was hoping he would do exactly that and he was ready for him. He shifted his head a fraction to the left so Kitson’s fist sailed over his shoulder, then as Kitson lurched forward, off balance, Bleck hit him in the pit of his stomach, solidly, all his weight and strength gathered into a punch that didn’t travel more than a few inches.

Kitson had been out of training now for months, and his muscles had softened. The blow paralysed him. He fell on his knees, gagging, a white flame of pain engulfing him.

Bleck stepped back, a cruel grin on his face.

‘That makes us even, bum,’ he said. ‘Don’t swing another punch at me again or I’ll make you even more sorry. Get that car to Gypo and snap it up.’

He walked away to the Lincoln leaving Kitson still on his knees, his head hanging, while he struggled to get his breath back into his tortured lungs.

It took him some minutes to recover from the impact of the punch. Finally, he got to his feet, then, moving painfully, his mind on fire with the humiliation of his defeat, he got into the MG, started the engine and drove out of the parking lot.

He had asked for it, he told himself savagely, as keeping to the back streets, he headed for Gypo’s workshop, but the next time would be different. He felt sure that there would have to be a final clash between Bleck and himself. For months now Bleck had been picking on him, and if Bleck thought he was going to steal Ginny from him, he had another think coming. When the clash did come, he was forewarned. Bleck could punch and he would have to keep away from that devastating right hand. Both of them had surprised each other with a sucker punch. Both of them wouldn’t be taken by surprise again.

While Kitson continued on his way to Gypo’s workshop, Morgan was driving back to his room off the town’s main street. Morgan’s mind was occupied with the coming job. He had gone over the plan time and again, taking the job much more seriously than any of the other three. This would be the last job he would do, he told himself as he steered the car through the heavy traffic.

The rain had now ceased, but the roads were slippery and glistened in his headlights, and he drove carefully.

As soon as they had the money, he thought, the mob would split up. He had already made arrangements for his own getaway. In his wallet he had an air ticket for a Mexican-Californian border town; a priority ticket, undated, but that gave him the right to board any plane out at any time. He had rented a safe deposit in the town in which he intended to lodge his share of the loot. He would then cross the border into Mexico and wait. When he felt it safe enough, he would begin to buy bearer bonds, and once he had turned the whole two hundred thousand dollars into bonds, he felt he not only had the world in his pocket, but also at his feet.

He wasn’t kidding himself about this job. He had a fifty-fifty chance of survival. The opposition would be fierce. The police and the Army would throw in every man and every trick they knew to get the money back. He didn’t trust Bleck nor Kitson nor Gypo. So long as he directed them they would be all right, but once his hand was off the helm, once they were on their own, their chances of escape were small. It irked him to think that he had organized a steal as big as a million dollars, only to get a fifth share for himself. He felt sure that the rest of the money would eventually be grabbed by the police with the possible exception of Ginny’s share.