1958 - The World in My Pocket (9 page)

‘Hear me, Ed?’

Bleck lit his cigarette.

‘Sure.’

Sensitive to the atmosphere, Gypo asked, ‘Something go wrong, Frank?’

‘Ed let a guy knock his gun out of his hand,’ Morgan said. ‘That could have soured the whole caper.’

Bleck moved his powerful shoulders under his coat, scowling.

‘He caught me on the wrong foot. It could have happened to anyone.’

‘Yeah,’ Morgan said, ‘but don’t let it happen again.’ Turning to Kitson, he went on, ‘And you: you were too slow off the mark. You should have got the car away a lot faster.’

Kitson knew Morgan was right. The sound of the gun going off had paralysed him. He had imagined someone in the cafe had been killed and this job had turned into a murder rap.

‘Ginny.’

The girl turned at the sound of Morgan’s voice and came over to where the four men were standing.

‘We can go ahead with the big one now,’ Morgan said. ‘You and Kitson go into Marlow tomorrow and get the caravan. Gypo will give you the measurements.’ Morgan sat on the bench, his cigarette sending a thin spiral of smoke past his nose. ‘Keep the price as low as you can. We’ll need every cent of this dough. I don’t have to tell you that.’ He looked over at Kitson. ‘You know the setup: you and she have just got married and want this caravan for your honeymoon. Most young people buy caravans for that reason, and we’ve got to make sure the guy who sells you the caravan doesn’t remember either of you.’

Kitson glanced suspiciously at Bleck, but Bleck was feeling pretty sick with himself, knowing that he hadn’t made much of a showing at the hold-up, and he wasn’t in the mood to jeer.

‘Try to stop looking like a block of wood, will you?’ Morgan went on. ‘Act like you’re in love with the girl or this guy will wonder what kind of honeymoon you’re on.’

Gypo chuckled.

‘Maybe I should handle the job,’ he said. ‘I am affectionate by nature. Me and Ginny would make a very pretty couple.’

Even Ginny joined in the laughter.

‘You’re too fat and old, Gypo,’ Morgan said. ‘The guy might remember you. It’s got to be Kitson.’

He counted out two thousand dollars and handed the bills to Kitson.

‘Try and get it cheaper. I’ll bring the Buick with the towing tackle to your place at eleven tomorrow.’ He looked over at Gypo. ‘You follow me to Kitson’s place in the Lincoln. I’ll need transport back.’

‘Sure,’ Gypo said.

‘Okay, let’s break it up now,’ Morgan said. ‘I’ve got to take the chopper back to Lu. You come with me, Ed.’ He looked at Ginny and Kitson, ‘You two take the bus. It’ll be safer if we four aren’t seen together.’

He put the rest of the money in his hip pocket.

‘You two arrange where you meet,’ he said to Ginny. ‘I want you both back here with the caravan by tomorrow afternoon.’ He jerked his head at Bleck. ‘Let’s go.’

When they had gone, Ginny took off the green scarf and shook her copper-coloured hair free.

Looking at her uneasily, Kitson thought she was beautiful. He stood against the workbench, rubbing his knuckles, awkward and ill at ease.

‘Another drink?’ Gypo asked.

The girl shook her head.

‘No, thanks.’ She took out her pack of cigarettes and putting a cigarette between her lips, she looked at Kitson. Kitson fumbled for matches, lit one with a hand that was far from steady and held the flame so she could light the cigarette. She put her cool fingers on his hand to steady the flame and the touch of her flesh on his sent a surge of hot blood through his veins.

She moved away over to the double doors.

‘Well, so long,’ she said to Gypo.

‘So long,’ he said, winking at Kitson, who ignored him and followed the girl out into the hot night air. They walked side by side down the road and on to the highway.

‘Where do you live?’ Ginny asked as they paused at the bus stop.

‘Lennox Street,’ Kitson said.

‘Then I’ll be waiting at the corner tomorrow at eleven.’

‘I can pick you up at your place if you like.’

‘It’s not necessary.’

There was a pause while Kitson kept eyeing her as she stood at his side.

‘The other night,’ he said abruptly. ‘I wouldn’t have hit you. I - I guess I lost my temper. I’m sorry.’

She smiled.

‘I thought you were going to. You scared me.’

Kitson flushed.

‘I wouldn’t have done it. I don’t hit anyone smaller than myself. I wouldn’t have done it.’

‘If you had, it would have served me right. I was asking for it.’ She flicked her cigarette away. ‘Was it such a good idea to hit Bleck?’

Kitson scowled.

‘It’s time someone took a poke at that punk,’ he said. ‘He had it coming.’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t such a good idea. You’ll have to watch him. He’s not the type to forget.’

Kitson shrugged.

‘I can handle him.’

‘I think you can. I saw you in the ring about a year ago. When you beat Jackie Lazards. That was quite a scrap.’

Kitson looked at her, his face lighting up. That had been quite a scrap. He had been lucky to have beaten Lazards. They had fought nine slugging rounds, and it had been anyone’s fight.

‘He was a good fighter.’

‘You weren’t so bad yourself. Why did you quit the ring?’

This was an embarrassing question and Kitson hastily improvised.

‘After my last fight I got double vision,’ he said, running his fingers through his curly hair. ‘That scared me. I was doing all right, but this double vision. The Doc said I should quit, and he was pretty serious about it. I didn’t want to. I had a good chance for the title, but when the Doc said I should quit, I quit.’

This was his version of the story. His manager would have told her something completely different. He looked anxiously at her to see if she accepted the explanation, but her expressionless face told him nothing.

‘What made you pick on Frank?’ he asked after a long pause.

‘Who else is there in this town to pick on?’ she said. ‘Here comes the bus.’

They boarded the bus. She let him buy the tickets, and they sat side by side, their faces reflected in the glass of the window. The bus was full. Except for a moment’s interest when the men in the bus stared at her as she went to her seat, no one paid any attention to them.

They rode back to town in silence.

At the railroad station, she said, ‘This is where I get off. See you tomorrow at eleven.’

He got up to let her pass and he felt a surge of blood move through him as her body brushed against his.

As the bus moved off, he pressed his face against the window, looking out into the darkness, trying to get a last glimpse of her.

CHAPTER FOUR

I

A
t eleven o’clock the following morning, Kitson drove Morgan’s Buick out of town and headed towards Marlow, a sixty-mile drive on Highway 10.

By his side sat Ginny, whom he scarcely recognised. She looked what she was supposed to look: a young girl who had just got married and was about to experience the excitement and the fun of a honeymoon. The simple summer frock she wore gave her youthful charm. Her expression had softened and she was surprisingly talkative.

Kitson was a little stunned by this transformation. He had taken pains with his appearance, and he now gave the impression of being a fairly prosperous young man, just married and embarrassed that anyone should know he was off on his honeymoon.

Morgan had brought the Buick, towing tackle now in position, to Kitson’s place. Gypo had followed him in the Lincoln and he had become sentimental as he watched Kitson and Ginny drive away.

‘They look made for each other, don’t they?’ he said to Morgan as he stared after the swiftly moving Buick. ‘She’s not as hard as she makes out. A girl with a body like that is made for love. They look like a honeymoon couple. They could have beautiful children.’

‘Stop napping with your mouth!’ Morgan said. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re talking like an old woman!’

Gypo spread his hands and lifted his shoulders.

‘Okay, so I flap with my mouth. So I shut up, but without a little love in this world, where is the happiness?’

‘Come on. We’ve got work to do. Take me over to Ed’s place,’ Morgan said, scowling.

This sort of sloppy talk was bad, he thought. They had a dangerous job ahead of them. This was no time for sentiment.

Bleck had a two-room apartment in a brown stone building that overlooked the river.

Morgan took the elevator to the fourth floor, walked along the passage and dug his thumb into Bleck’s bell push.

There was a delay, then Bleck opened the door.

He was wearing a pair of black pyjamas with white piping and his initials in white on the pocket. His hair was tousled and his eyes heavy and a little bleary.

‘For the love of Mike!’ he said, staring at Morgan. ‘What’s the time then?’

Morgan moved forward and rode Bleck back into the small sitting room, comfortably furnished, but untidy, with a number of empty gin and whisky bottles lined up on the window seat. There was a stale smell of cigarette smoke and perfume that made Morgan wrinkle his nose.

‘It smells like a cat house in here,’ he said. ‘Can’t you open a window?’

‘Why, sure.’ Bleck went to the window and threw it open. He looked at the clock on the overmantel and saw it was twenty minutes after eleven. ‘You’re early, aren’t you? Kitson gone?’

‘They’ve gone,’ Morgan said. He looked across the room to the bedroom door. ‘You got someone in there?’

Bleck grinned sheepishly.

‘She’s asleep. You don’t have to worry about her.’

Morgan reached forward and hooked his finger into Bleck’s pyjama pocket, pulling him close to him.

‘Listen, Ed, this is the big one. Your showing last night wasn’t so hot. You’ll have to do a damn sight better than that or you’re not going to be much help. Until we’ve done this job, cut out the women and the booze. You look like something a cat has sicked up.’

Bleck jerked away, his face tightening.

‘You don’t talk that way to me, Frank.’

‘I do, pal. If you want it the hard way, say so. I can handle you any time and don’t forget it. You do what I say or you’re out of this job.’

The expression in the flat, black eyes chilled Bleck.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ll watch it.’

‘You’d better watch it,’ Morgan said.

Bleck moved away.

‘Anything in the papers about last night?’

‘The usual junk. Everyone was so scared they couldn’t give the cops any kind of description. I guess we’re going to get away with that one. I want you to get down to Gypo’s place right away. He is getting the long bolts for the steel work now, but he’ll need help with the job. Get down there, will you?’

‘Okay,’ Bleck said grudgingly. He didn’t feel like working this morning.

‘And snap it up!’ Morgan barked. ‘I’m going over to Dukas to get an automatic rifle. Ernie has one and he’s willing to sell it.’

‘Sure,’ Bleck said. ‘I’ll get down there right away.’

When Morgan had gone, Bleck cursed under his breath and walked into the bedroom, crossing the half-dark room and pulling up the blind, letting a stream of strong sunlight fall directly across the face of the girl, lying in his bed.

‘For heaven’s sake, Eddy,’ the girl protested, sitting up and blinking at him. She was dark, her black hair cut across her forehead in a fringe. Her eyes were big and blue and her features were small. She had on a pair of yellow pyjamas that set off her well-made body.

‘On your way, baby,’ Bleck said as he struggled into his shirt. ‘I’ve got business. Come on! Make the legs walk!’

‘But, Ed. I’m dead beat. If you have to go out, I can stay, can’t I?’

‘No! I’m not leaving you here on your own. Come on! Get moving!’

The girl - her name was Glorie Dawson - groaned, threw off the sheet and staggered out of bed. She stretched her arms, yawned and walked unsteadily into the bathroom.

‘But what’s the panic, honey?’ she asked, running her fingers through her dark hair. ‘Who was your boyfriend?’

Bleck began to mow his beard with an electric razor.

‘Come on! Dress the body and beat it!’ he said. ‘I’m in a hurry.’

She stripped off her pyjamas and got under the shower.

‘Sometimes I think I must have a hole in my head,’ she said, raising her voice above the noise of the running water. ‘It’s always the same. It starts right: soft music, soft lights and soft words, then all of a sudden it’s: dress the body and beat it. What a way to talk to a girl! My dream man! My Prince Charming!’

‘Cut it out and snap it up!’ Bleck said irritably.

He disconnected the razor and then went into the kitchen to heat up some coffee. His head was aching and his mouth felt as if it were lined with felt. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much the previous night, but his nerves had been shot. He wished too he hadn’t invited Glorie to share his bed. He realized that this must have made a bad impression on Morgan.

He poured a cup of coffee, found a pack of Aspro and took three tablets, noting with a sense of uneasiness that his hand was shaking badly. By the time he had finished his coffee, Glorie came into the kitchen, dressed.

‘Hmmmm - coffee. Pour me a cup, honey.’

‘No time. Come on, let’s get out of here. You can get yourself some coffee across the way.’

‘Wait a moment, Eddy.’ There was a sudden sharpness in her voice that made Bleck look quickly at her. ‘That was Morgan who was here just now, wasn’t it? What was he talking about - the big one? What does that mean?’

Bleck was startled. For a moment he stared uneasily at Glorie.

‘You keep your snout out of my business,’ he snarled. ‘Hear me? This is nothing to do with you.’

‘Eddy, please listen to me,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Morgan’s no good. I’ve heard things about him. He’s been in bad trouble all his life. He’s done everything except a killing and the way he’s shaping, that’ll come. Please, Eddy, don’t get mixed up with him. You’ll only get yourself into trouble.’

Bleck had been sleeping with Glorie now regularly for three months or so, and he liked her. She was the first person he had ever met who was interested in him for himself and for nothing else, but that didn’t mean he was going to let her dictate what he was to do and whom he should associate with.