Our euphoria lasted all of five minutes, with loud talk, jokes, hysterical laughter. Then we fell silent. I saw my hands trembling uncontrollably.
‘Jack,’ I said in a small voice, ‘I’m cold and scared. Can I have a drink, please?’
He was in the back seat with me. He rooted around in the mess, found the bottle of brandy. He poured heavy shots in plastic tumblers, handed them across the front seat to Gore and Fleming. Then he served me. Finally he took his own. We all gulped greedily. No one proposed a toast.
‘Slow down, Hyme,’ Jack said. ‘Not more than sixty. We can’t afford to be stopped.’
We had been doing seventy, seventy-five, in that range. Gore slowed, edged the Buick over into the middle lane. It was after 1:00 a.m., but traffic was heavy.
‘My God,’ I said, laughing nervously, ‘is everyone going to Miami?’
No one answered. We drove on through the night in silence. I was afraid of sleeping.
‘It’s just a guess,’ Donohue said musingly, ‘but I’ll bet it was that scummy bartender at the Game Cock who made us. Anyone see him go to the back, to the phone, while we were in the booth?’
No one had.
‘Maybe he did and we j ust didn’t notice.’
‘Jack,’ Dick Fleming said, ‘how could he make us? He didn’t see the car!’
Donohue came alive, began to snap his fingers.
‘Right!’ he said. ‘He didn’t see the car, but he saw us. This is how I figure the Corporation worked it: They put out the word up and down the highway — in restaurants, bars, taverns, motels, roadhouses, and so forth. Their local men took care of this. So a mob guy comes into the Game Cock, braces the bartender, and hands him a tenner. “This is for your trouble,” he says. “Now what we’re looking for is four people travelling together, three men and a woman.” Then he gives the bartender our descriptions, which the Corporation cut out of Angela and the Holy Ghost. “You spot these people,” the local guy says, “you call this number. If you’re right, there’s a C-note in it for you.” I’ll bet my bottom buck that’s how it happened.’
I sighed. ‘In other words, you’re gambling the bartender didn’t see the car, and that’s why there were no Corporation guys guarding the Buick when we made our break. Because they don’t know what we’re driving.’
‘Surely they saw us driving away,’ Fleming said.
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Donohue said. ‘That was one fucked-up scene, with the fire-engines, cop cars, people running around, cars starting up and taking off in all directions. I’m betting they didn’t make us in the darkness. This car is safe.’
I sighed again. ‘Why do you gamble, Jack?’
He whirled on me.
‘Why don’t you write?’ he demanded. ‘I read your book. You called it an obsession, a kind of masturbation.’
‘You never forget anything, do you? All right, you win.’
‘Damned right. And we have been winning, haven’t we? I tell you I’m on a high streak. When you’re hot, you give it all you’ve got. I’ve been twisting my brain, trying to figure how to get new wheels. But we don’t need them; Honest Percy didn’t rat on us, no one saw us dump the Ford and no one’s been tailing us. I tell you, this car is safe.’
We didn’t disagree with him. Perhaps because no one had any better ideas. It was a relief to put our destinies in his hands, let him make the decisions: where to go, when to go, when to stop, how to act.
‘Hyme,’ Jack Donohue said, ‘we’ll make a detour. Take the next turnoff. Weil go over to Raleigh, hole up and get some sleep. Tomorrow we can come east again and get back on the highway at Smithfield.’
‘Yes, Jack,’ Hymie Gore said obediently.
We took the turnoff at Wilson and drove west on Federal Highway 264. Got to the outskirts of Raleigh about 2:30. Found a place to sleep. My premonition had been accurate: This flight was going to be an endless succession of sleazy motels. This one thoughtfully provided a can of bug spray in every room. I bunked with Donohue. If he made any carnal noises, I was prepared to use the spray on him. But he was asleep before I was.
We all slept till noon, then went out for a steak-and-eggs breakfast. One of the things I enjoy when you get south of the Mason-Dixon Line is that, in the better restaurants, waiters come over to your table, say, ‘Good morning,’ and pour you a cup of hot black coffee. I mean, they don’t even ask; they know. And they’re right.
So, with stomachs full, the sun shining in a bland sky, things didn’t look so bad. Jack said we should do a little peddling in Raleigh so the day wouldn’t be a total loss. We went back to the motel and pawed through the contents of the gem cases. There wasn’t much small stuff left. Most of what we had were big pieces: chokers, necklaces, bracelets, tiaras — all heavily encrusted items that could never be pawned or sold in a local mom-and-pop jewelry shop.
Jack picked through the stuff and selected the remaining small pieces: a few simple rings, some watches, brooches, cufflinks.
‘I’ll see what I can do with these,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the car. The three of you sit tight. Don’t go out. Watch TV. Have a few drinks. I should be back by five at the latest. If I’m not, you’ll know I’ve been nicked. Then just take off and do the best you can.’
‘Jack …’I said hesitantly.
‘Yeah?’
‘Something I haven’t told you. I’m not sure about it, so I decided not to say anything. But maybe 1 should.’
‘What, for God’s sake?’
‘Remember when we came out of the Game Cock the first time? The lights of the car on the right went on. Two guys standing there. A few seconds later the car on the left flashed its headlights. I shielded my eyes. I saw three guys standing near it. I might have been imagining it, but I thought I recognized one of the men. Short, heavyset, wearing a bowler. He had on an overcoat, which means he came from up north. I couldn’t see his features, but I thought maybe it was him.’
He caught on immediately.
‘Noel Jarvis?’ he asked. ‘The manager?’
‘Rossi,’ I said. ‘Antonio Rossi.’
‘Yeah, Rossi. You sure?’
‘No, I’m not sure. It was just a quick glimpse. It was dark out there. I was staring into the lights. But that’s the feeling I got.’
He thought about that a moment,biting his upper lip.
‘Yeah,’ he said finally, ‘it’s possible. But it surprises me. I mean, they’re giving him a chance — probably a last chance — to run us down and waste us. He’s lucky.’
‘Lucky?’
‘Because they didn’t burn him right away. He goofed. They know it. They know he dated you. They figure he was careless, he talked.’
‘How could they know he dated me?’
‘Oh, Jannie’ — he sighed — ‘use your noodle. By this time your photograph has been circulated. So you went to that West Side restaurant with him, didn’t you? It’s in your book. So hard guys over there saw you with him. That’s why I say he’s lucky. They could have figured he was in on it and squashed him without asking questions. But the Corporation’s giving him a chance to find us.’
‘And the stones,’ I said.
‘Fuck the stones!’ Donohue said savagely. ‘You really think the Corporation wants that hot ice? Sure they do, but not as much as they want to fry our asses. We can’t be allowed to get away with that heist. Bad public relations. That’s why Rossi is on our tail. He’ll never give up, because it’s his cock if he fails. Lock the door after I’m gone.’
We did as he said. Had a few drinks, watched a stupid game show on TV. Then Dick and Hymie dozed off and I got busy on Project X, writing on those yellow legal pads with a ballpoint pen, writing as fast as I could. I took up where I had left off a hundred years ago and tried to catch up. But I had only finished the account of the actual robbery when it was 4:00 and time to put the manuscript aside. I took a shower and dressed, then roused the men. They got up, grumbling, stuffed their gear in suitcases. We settled down to wait for Jack.
He had said that if he didn’t return by 5:00, we should take off and do the best we could. I considered what the ‘best’ would be. I had no idea. I literally had no idea. It was the first time in my life that my fate depended on someone else. I said that was comfortable, and it was. But when I tried to imagine what would happen if the sovereign died or disappeared, panic set in.
But he came back, before the deadline of 5:00 P.M. He came into the room quickly, carrying a package. He was trying to smile. His pale forehead was sheened with sweat.
‘AH set?’ he said. ‘Good. Let’s get going. Right now. Let’s hit the road.’
We all looked at him.
‘Jack,’ Dick Fleming said, ‘what is it? Something’s happened. I can tell. What happened?’
He slumped suddenly into an armchair. He thrust out his long legs.
‘I saw him,’ he groaned. ‘I saw the bastard. Jannie, you were right.’
‘Rossi?’
‘Yeah. Coming out of a hotel. Thank God I saw him before they spotted me.’
‘They?’ I asked.
‘Him and two other guys. Heavies.’
‘You think they was like, you know, bodyguards, Jack?’ Hymie Gore asked.
‘Sort of, Hyme,’ Donohue said, smiling wanly. He was beginning to lose his pallor. ‘I figure the Corporation is keeping him on a tight leash. They’re giving him a chance to make good, but they’d hate to see him run. So they assigned two guided missiles to keep him company.’
‘What’s he doing in Raleigh?’ I said sharply. ‘How did he follow us here if no one tailed us?’
‘Just an accident,’ Jack said. ‘They’re covering every city of any size up and down the coast. Him being here when we are is just a coincidence. I’ll bet on it.’
No one said a thing.
We got back on Route 95 at Smithfield and turned south. Donohue was driving, Dick beside him. Hymie and I stretched out in the back seat. No joking, no talking. It wasn’t the happiest of times. I kept turning to look back, expecting any minute to see a long black car coming up behind us, and at the wheel, a chunky figure wearing a bowler, velvet-collared Chesterfield, pinstriped suit, polka-dot bowtie. Eyes cold, thin lips tight. One desire: to murder the woman who had made a fool of him.
That evening we drove through Fayetteville to Lumberton. Southbound holiday traffic was heavy; it took us more than three hours. We got off the highway at Fairmont, had a quick dinner, and started off again, Dick Fleming driving. Donohue was next to him, bending over a map, trying to read it in the dashlight.
We had hardly exchanged a dozen words since leaving Raleigh. I couldn’t stand it.
‘How did you make out in Raleigh, Jack?’ I asked casually. ‘The rocks?’
He folded the map, put it away in the glove compartment. He half-turned to face me. He seemed pleased that we had decided to talk to him again.
‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Another couple of grand.’
‘What did you buy? In the package?’
‘When we get to Miami, we might need some heavy green. For grease — you know? Buy some new IDs for us. Charter a plane. All that. So we’re running low on the small ice, the stuff that’s easy to peddle and hock. I figure that after buying the Buick and then picking up a couple of G’s in Raleigh, we’ve all got about fourteen-fifteen thou between us. Not enough. So I bought some tools. To cut up the heavy ice if we have to. Now what I got in there is wire clippers, awls, long-nosed pliers, a loupe, a dissolvent they use to loosen the cement when the stone is glued to the setting, a small ball-peen hammer, a few other things. All this stuff is used to break up jewelry. If things get tight, we’ll pry out the stones and I’ll pick up a little electric kiln so we can melt down the settings. The price of gold’s way up these days. Then we’ll peddle the individual rocks. No way, no way, anyone can identify those. And a hunk of gold is just a hunk of gold.’
I looked at him with admiration.
‘Jack,’ I said, ‘is there anything illegal you haven’t done?’
‘Not much,’he said.
Perhaps it was about then that, for me, our flight began to take on a dreamlike quality. I was aware that we were then in South Carolina. It meant nothing. The highway kept spinning away beneath our wheels. It seemed stretched forever. If someone had said that this ribbon of concrete wound the world, I would accept that. Next stop: Hong Kong. That made as much sense as what we were doing, devouring miles, watching idly as the night fled by: neon signs glimmering in the distance, the faint glow of far-off towns, brilliant headlights of cars passing on the other side, and the occasional roar as a tractor-trailer went grinding by. Some nut in a sports car darting in and out of traffic. Vans. Pickups. Wheezing heaps striving to make the promised land.
I saw it all, and I didn’t see anything. I mean, I was aware of what was happening, but I was divorced from it. I said, prior to the actual robbery of Brandenberg amp; Sons, that I was both observer and participant. Now it seemed to me that my role had dwindled to observer only. I had that removed coldness.
Dick driving, we flew south. I remember noting a sign that read ‘The Great Pee Dee River,’ and I thought that was mildly amusing. We went around Florence, Manning, Summerton, across Lake Marion.
‘How much in the tank?’ Donohue asked.
‘About a quarter,’ Dick Fleming said.
‘Let’s get off,’ Jack said, sighing. ‘I thought we’d try to make Savannah, but the hell with it. Any turnoff that looks good to you, Dick. You pick it. We’ll get some sleep. I’m beat. Are you beat, Jannie?’
‘Beat,’ I said, nodding. ‘Jack, can we find a nice place? Something decent — without bug spray in the room? And if we do, can we stay for a day or two? Just rest up? I can’t see where if would do any harm. And it might do some good. If they’re figuring our travel time, it could throw them off if we take a couple of extra days.’
‘Right,’ he said promptly. ‘We’ll do it. Weil relax. Put our act together. Okay with you, Hyme?’
But Hymie Gore was asleep, breathing heavily. His big head was on my shoulder. I endured it. As a matter of fact, I welcomed it, and tried to make the Incredible Hulk comfortable. He was really a very sweet man. Another lesson for me: You can be stupid and sweet.
We turned off toward a town called Coosawhatchie.
‘Why here?’ Donohue asked.
‘I like the name,’ Fleming said. Jack laughed and let him g°-
It didn’t turn out all that funny. We drove around for a half-hour, found no motels displaying a Vacancy sign. We got back on the highway, went south to Ridgeland. The same story: No room at the inn. Back on the highway again, and south to Hardeeville, just before the Georgia border.
I have a vague recollection of stopping before a motor lodge that could only be called ‘imposing’ compared to the fleabags we had been frequenting. At least this place had a generous lobby, an elevator, and ‘All Modern Advantages,’ just as advertised on the sign outside. These included small refrigerators in every room, central air conditioning and, if desired, water beds. We didn’t desire.
We checked in and lugged all our luggage up to our fourth-floor rooms. I was sharing with Jack Donohue that night. After we were settled in, he disappeared for about twenty minutes. By the time he returned, I had finished a hot shower, was dried, dusted, sprayed with foo-foo. I was lying in my bed, spreadeagled beneath a single sheet. I felt like a lump. That’s the only way I can describe it: I was a lump.
I heard him, dimly, lock and chain the door. Heard him undress, curse softly as he stubbed his toe. Heard him shower. Saw through half-closed eyes the light from the bathroom as he shaved. I wasn’t sleeping, exactly, and I wasn’t awake, exactly. Suspended animation-that was me. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. And my brain was mush. I couldn’t think, let alone concentrate. A thought would pop up and then just go drifting away before I could grab it.
That’s the way I was that night — drifting.
Jack Donohue came into bed with me and I didn’t object. He did things to me. I responded, but it was all on a physical level, reactions I couldn’t resist. Didn’t have the will to resist, or the strength. And all the time my body was leaping, heaving, twisting and thumping, my lumpish mind was going TJhhhhh.’ Nothing.
By the time I awoke, Jack was back in his own bed and I was back in my own head. He was still sleeping when I showered, wigged, dressed, and went next door to knock on the door of the room shared by Dick and Hyme. No answer. But I found them in the coffee shop downstairs and slid into their booth.
I ordered what they were eating: scrambled eggs, pork sausages, and grits. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.
Jack joined us as we were working on our third coffees, and by the time we all wandered outside, things were looking good again. 1 realized that was a pattern we were running: We were on a goddamned roller coaster, up and down. Right then we were on the rise.
That was quite a layout. It was a big shopping center, just off the junction of three roads. An enormous parking lot and a semicircle of department stores, shops, boutiques, a movie theater, a restaurant. Almost a little city. We were in a modern motel at one end of the curve.
It looked to me like the center had started off small, with maybe one or two buildings, and then had just grown, with more structures added over a period of years. Because it wasn’t one continuous design; there was space between buildings. And no two buildings seemed designed by the same architect or even by friendly architects; the place was a hodge-podge of crazy facades, Disneylike silhouettes, and clashing signs.
The whole thing was called Wonderland Shopping Center. Good name. It made you wonder.
‘Great,’ Dick Fleming said. ‘We can live the rest of our lives right here. Supermarket, liquor store, restaurant and bar, post office, laundry, bakery, men’s and women’s clothing, gas station. Who could askfor anything more?’
That was just about right. The four of us spent a fine, relaxing time there. The weather couldn’t have been better; up in the high 70s and sunny during the day, down in the low 60s at night. We went to the movies, ate well at the restaurant and motel coffee shop, wandered the stores and bought a few things, sat around drinking and talking about the robbery and how well it had been planned and executed. No one spoke of the future.
Jack Donohue selected a diamond necklace from the loot and showed us how it could be broken up, using his new kit of tools. The stones were gently pried loose from their settings, using a solvent when necessary, and then the chain in which they had been mounted was cut up into inch-long pieces.
It sounds simple, but it took a long time, Jack working slowly and carefully. Most of the stones were held by claws, each of which had to be gently bent away, and the stone pried out. Small decorative diamond chips he left in their settings, but cut into sections. When he finished, we had a dozen gemstones of various sizes, pieces of chips and pave, and hunks of gold chain.
‘Not worth as much as the original piece,’ Jack acknowledged, ‘but a hell of a lot safer to sell. Nothing can be identified. When you peddle loose rocks, the scam is that you’ve been buying cut diamonds for investment and want to sell a few for ready cash. No questions asked — believe me.’
The only downer during those two restful days was when Donohue picked up a Savannah paper and brought it to the room to show us. There was a small item datelined New York about the discovery of a corpse in the closet of an East Side Manhattan apartment. Dick Fleming’s apartment. But the newspaper story didn’t mention Dick’s name. It said only that police were attempting to locate the tenant.
‘Now they have your name, description and probably your photograph,’ Jack said, looking at Fleming.
‘So?’Dick said.
By late afternoon of the second day, fed, rested, rejuvenated, we all knew it was time to move on. I had discovered what Black Jack had been up to when he disappeared after we checked in. He had scouted all the entrances and exits from the motor lodge, and the best getaway routes. He had also decided that as a precautionary measure it would be smart not to park the Buick right outside the motel, but to leave it in the big, general parking lot of the adjacent shopping center.
‘The car’s safe,’ he told us. ‘I’ll bet on that. But why go looking for trouble? So we park it in that big lot. Plenty of cars there. And if they do tag us, they don’t know where we are — in the motel, shopping, watching a movie, whatever. Am I right?’
We told him he was right. I think that at that time he needed reassurance. Or, as Dick and I had decided, he needed to be trusted.
Anyway, we all had a good dinner at the nearby restaurant, then returned to our rooms, started packing. No hurry. We tried to consolidate the gems, and were able to get them into two suitcases and a canvas carryall. Our clothing and toilet articles went into three more suitcases and two shoulder bags.
It was then about 9:00 P.M.
‘Okay,’ Donohue said cheerily. ‘Time to hit the road. I’ll go down first and check out. Then I’ll bring the car around to the front. Give me about ten minutes. Then you start bringing the stuff down. Weil load up and be on our way.’
It sounded good.
But he was back in two minutes.
‘Trouble,’ he said tersely. ‘Son of a bitch!’
‘Jack, what is it?’ I asked him.
‘I saw your lover,’ he said, showing his teeth. ‘Him and his heavies. Talking to the guy at the desk.’
‘How did he find us here?’ I wailed.
‘Who knows?’ he said. And for the first time his face showed despair. “That bastard won’t give up until we’re all dead.’
We all caught his mood and looked at one another with angry frustration.
‘They coming up, Jack?’ Hymie Gore asked.
‘I don’t think they’ll do that, Hyme. They don’t want a shootout inside the motel any more than we do. They’ll probably stake out the place, cover all the doors, and pot us as we come out. But there’s an easy way to check …’
He picked up the phone and called the desk.
‘This is Sam Morrison in Room 410,’ he said briskly. ‘Have any friends been asking for me? Uhhuh. That’s fine. And are they waiting in the lobby? Oh … good. Well, I’ll be down soon.Thank you very much.’
‘Like I figured,’ he reported. ‘The cocksuckers said they’d wait outside.’
‘Just the three of them, Jack?’ Gore asked.
‘That’s all I saw, Hyme, but Rossi’s probably got more. And if he hasn’t you can bet he’s calling up an army right now. They’ll sew this place up tight.’
‘Can we call the cops and fire department again?’ I said.
‘Won’t work twice,’ Donohue said, shaking his head. ‘They’ll be ready for it and just lay back and pick us off as we come out. Besides, this place is just too big for a juggle like that to work.’
He paced up and down, biting at the hard skin around a thumbnail. We all watched him. I wasn’t conscious of being frightened as much as feeling an utter lack of hope. I think the others felt the same way: that we had come to the end of our rope, and all our daring and resolve had gone for nothing. I understood then the irrational fury that Donohue had expressed earlier: Having accomplished so much, why couldn’t we be left alone to profit from our boldness?
‘Uh, Jack,’ Hymie Gore said, ‘maybe we should go out blasting? I mean, we got the irons. Maybe one or two of us could make it.’
‘Suicide,’ Donohue said bluntly. ‘I cased all the exits when we checked in. At night, all those doors are brightly lighted. They’ll be back in the darkness, take their time, and pop us off, bang, bang, bang, bang-like that. Can’t miss.’
Silence again.
Finally Black Jack stopped his pacing. He stood in front of Dick Fleming’s armchair, looked down at him.
‘Well, college boy?’ he said. ‘You got a good nut on you, I know that. Any ideas how we can get out of this mess?’
‘Back doors?’ Dick said slowly.
‘They’ll all be covered.’
‘Basement?’
‘The steps come up to the back doors.’
‘Disguises? We put on some of Jannie’s clothes and — ah, that would never work.’
‘It sure wouldn’t,’ Donohue said, sighing. ‘Maybe I should make a run for it. I might be able to decoy them away while you three slide out the other way.’
‘They’re too smart for that,’ Flemingsaid. ‘Aren’t they?’
‘Yeah,’ Jack said sourly, ‘they are.’
‘We could call the cops,’ I said. ‘Or the FBI. For real, I mean. No gimmicks. Give ourselves up. Tell them to come get us.’
‘And face a felony murder rap?’ Donohue said. ‘You really want to do that?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Wait a minute,’ Dick said.
We all looked at him. He was rubbing his blond eyebrows side to side.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s just a matter of logic. We obviously can’t go down, so why don’t we try going up? The roof.’
Jack Donohue took one swift step to Fleming’s side, bent over, kissed his cheek.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I knew you had a brain from the start. Sure, the roof. It’s a chance. Dick, you come with me and we’ll take a look. Hyme, you stay here with Jannie. Lock the door and don’t open for anyone, and I mean anyone. Not even for me unless I give you the right knock: three short raps, pause, two more. Got it? Let’s go, Dick.’
They were gone almost fifteen minutes. Hymie Gore and I waited in silence, chain-smoking. We were still wearing our coats, the suitcases packed, locked, and stacked near the door. Gore opened one of the shoulder bags to extract another revolver and slip it into his side pocket. I wondered if I should also take another, but I didn’t. I kept thinking of ‘Two-Gun Jannie Shean,’ and the idea was just too ridiculous.
Finally we heard Donohue’s code-knock: three raps, pause, two more. Gore opened the door cautiously, peered out, let the two men into the room.
I looked at their faces but could read nothing in their expressions.
‘It’s a chance,’ Donohue said.
‘A good chance,’Fleming said.
‘A chance,’ Jack repeated. ‘Just a chance. Here’s the situation: We get to the roof up an iron staircase through a fire door. That part’s easy. The building next door is a department store about the same height. Maybe a few inches higher. But it’s about five feet away. Dick, would you say five feet?’
‘About.’
‘There’s just space between the two buildings. Nothing there. Like an open alley. But we jumped it. No problem. All right, now we’re on the roof of the department store, hoping no one heard us jump. The building on the other side of the department store is a movie theater. A problem there. It’s about five feet away from the department store, but it’s also lower. I mean, maybe five, six feet lower. So we not only have to jump across that open space, but we have to jump down. Get it? Once we do that, there’s no getting back. Naturally we didn’t try that jump.’
‘But we saw a door up there,’ Dick Fleming said excitedly, if we can make it to the roof of the movie house, and if we can get through that door, maybe we can make it down through the theater.’
‘Carrying our luggage,’ Donohue said, and flashed us one of his sparkling grins.
1 looked at him in astonishment. I gestured toward the stack of suitcases.
‘You’re not telling me we’re taking all this stuff, are you?’ I demanded.
‘You’re not telling me we’re leaving it all behind, are you?’ he replied.
So up we went to the roof of the motor lodge, carrying all our luggage. We took the stairs at the end of the corridor because Donohue didn’t want to chance meeting anyone in the elevator. Jack led the way, then me, then Dick. Hymie Gore came last. The big man was carrying two suitcases, but I noticed that one was under an arm, and he was gripping a revolver in his free hand.
When we got to the roof door, Jack turned to me. it opens outward,’ he whispered, it’s locked from the outside so crooks can’t get in from the roof. Very smart. When Dick and I went out to look around, we left it jammed open with two packs of cigarettes. Weil do the same thing now, just in case this scam doesn’t work and we have to get back in.’
Then we were on the roof. It was cool up there, a stiff breeze blowing from the north. The sky was clear, the stars diamond-bright. But there was no moon; we moved carefully in the gloom, avoiding protruding pipes and ventilation ducts.
Donohue led the way to the far side. The tarred roof of the department store was across a black open space.
‘That looks more than five feet to me,’ I said nervously.
‘Nah,’ Jack said, ‘it’s an easy jump. Dick, show her how easy it is.’
Fleming put down the suitcases he was carrying. He backed up a few steps, opened his raincoat. Then he rushed forward and leaped. He went sailing, the tail of his coat billowing out behind him. He cleared the chasm easily, by a foot or two. He didn’t even fall; just went running forward a few steps, then stopped, turned, came back to the edge. He smiled across at me.
‘See?’Donohue said. ‘Nothing to it. You next, Jannie.’
I stood a few steps back from that deep, deep valley between the two buildings.
‘Don’t look down,’ Jack said. ‘Just get a running start and jump.’
‘I can’t do it.’
‘Sure, you can do it! It’s an easy jump. I read in your book how strong you are. Jogging and exercise and all that bullshit. You can do it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Come on,’ he said, beginning to get angry. ‘If it was a puddle, you’d step across it.’
‘A puddle isn’t six stories up.’
‘Goddamn it,’ he snarled furiously, ‘are you going to jump or am I going to have Hymie throw you across?’
I began to cry.
‘I can’t,’ I wept, ‘I really can’t, Jack. Something that wasn’t in my book: I’m afraid of heights. Scared out of my wits. I don’t have to look down there. I know what’s there. Nothing. I just can’t do it. Leave me here. The rest of you go ahead. That’s all right; I’ll take my chances.’
‘Son of a bitch,’ Donohue said bitterly. He put his hands on his hips, tilted his head back to stare at the sky, took a deep breath.
We stood there a moment, not talking. So help me, I had the shakes.
‘Hey,’ Dick called softly from the other side. ‘What’s going on? Let’s get moving!’
‘Hyme,’ Jack said, ‘throw all the luggage across to Fleming.’
I stood well back from the edge, trembling still, watching Gore tossing the suitcases and carryalls over to Dick. Then everything was stacked on the roof of the department store. And Dick was there. But the three of us were still on the motel roof.
‘Go ahead,’ I told them. ‘It’s all right.’
I really thought they were going to leave me.
‘Oh, shut your stupid yap,’ Donohue snapped. ‘Hyme, let’s take a look at that fire door.’
They made their way back to the rooftop door. I followed forlornly.
The two men examined the door. It was steel-covered, about two inches thick. Donohue rapped it with his knuckles.
‘Think you can pull it off the hinges, Hyme?’
Gore swung the door open wide, examined the hinges.
‘Bolted,’ he said. ‘But I’ll try, Jack.’
He reached up, put locked hands over the outer edge of the open door. He let his weight sag, pulling down and outward, trying to snap the top hinges. There was a screak of metal but nothing yielded.
‘Let me get inside your arms,’ Black Jack said. ‘We’ll both put our weight on it.’
The two of them put their combined weight and strength on the open door. Even in the dimness I could see their strained faces, cords popping in their necks and clenched jaws.
There was a raw screech of metal that I was certain would be heard for miles. The top hinge pulled loose from the door frame. The two men almost fell. They stepped back. The door hung loosely, held only by the bottom hinge. Hymie Gore gripped it, began to pull it away with ferocious yanks.
‘Heavy mother,’ he panted.
With another wail of twisted metal, the whole door came away in Gore’s hands. He carried it back to the chasm between the two buildings, Donohue and I following.
‘Work fast, Hyme,’ Jack said nervously. ‘That was loud enough for the desk clerk to hear.’
Gore set the door on edge on the cornice of the motel roof. He slid it slowly across the five-foot space, leaning his weight on his end to keep it from toppling into the alley. Dick Fleming, kneeling on the department store roof, reached out fearlessly. He grabbed the wavering leading edge, helped drag it across. The two men lowered the door into a flat position. It was about seven feet long and spanned the open gap neatly, with about a foot protruding on each end. It was a steel bridge.
‘Shut your eyes and hold my hand,’ Donohue said. ‘If you don’t do this, I’ll shove you off the edge myself.’
I did what he said. I shut my eyes. I stepped up when he told me. I took short shuffles. His hand was tight and hard on mine.
‘Okay,’he said, about a hundred years later. ‘Youmadeit.’
I opened my eyes. I was on the roof of the department store. Dick Fleming slid an arm across my shoulders, smiling at me.
Gore came strolling casually across the door bridge. We worked swiftly. Carried all the luggage to the other side. Then Hymie went back for the door. Dick Fleming helped him. They got a good grip on it, inched it free from the motor lodge cornice, let it swing downward, bang against the wall. Then they hauled it up. Gore carried it across to the other side balanced on his head.
We repeated the process. Fleming made the first leap to the roof of the movie theater. This time, jumping out and down, he fell, rolled, and got up limping and rubbing his ankle. Hyme tossed the luggage across the space between the two buildings. Then the three men wrestled the door into position again. This time it barely spanned the gap, by no more than an inch or so on each side. And because the movie theater roof was lower, the ramp led downward.
Once again I closed my eyes and Jack Donohue led me across. This time his arm was about my waist, and we moved slowly in little, dragging steps. We made it, and Hymie Gore came dancing across, pausing to spit over the edge.
‘Leave the door here, Jack?’ he asked. ‘Dump it — or what?’
Donohue looked at the steel door.
‘Leave it right there,’ he said. ‘Dump it and the noise will tip everyone. It’s no use to us anymore. The next building is so much lower, there’s no chance to make it.’
We went over to the fire door on the roof of the movie theater. It was also steel covered and worked just like the rooftop door of the motor lodge: It was locked on the outside. Donohue struck a match, held it close to the lock. He sighed.
‘I could get in,’ he said. ‘Maybe half an hour, an hour. We haven’t got the time, after that racket we made. Also, I don’t like the idea of four of us carting all this shit down through a movie theater. This is a public place; there’s got to be a fire escape. Everyone spread out and look around.’
I stayed right where I was, close to the middle of the roof. I wasn’t about to go peering over the edge of a high building.
It was Hymie Gore who found it in the darkness: iron railings that came curving over the roof cornice. Donohue leaned far out, peered down. I didn’t know how he could do it.
‘Looks okay,’ he said. ‘A zigzag stairway. The last floor is probably on a slide or gravity pull; that’s the way these things are usually set up. Let’s try it. Hyme, you go first. Then Jannie, then me, then Dick. Everyone carries.’
And that’s the way we did it, me lugging only one suitcase and a shoulder bag, my free hand hanging on to that rusted iron banister with a grip that never relaxed, my knees trembling as we went down slowly step after step.
The last floor had a counterweighted swing staircase. As Gore stepped onto it, it swiveled creakily. He went down cautiously until the free end touched the ground. He stepped off and leaned on the handrail, holding the steps steady as we came scampering down that final flight. Then he relaxed his grip; the fire escape swung upward out of reach.
We were in a narrow alley between the movie house and the department store. Maybe five feet wide. Easy for two people to walk abreast, too narrow for a car. It was lighted at both ends with bright bulbs under pyramid-shaped green shades, on the ends of pipes protruding from the walls.
Jack Donohue looked around a moment, getting his bearings.
‘That way,’ he said softly, jerking his chin. ‘That’s the parking lot. We’re not too far from the car.’
We started off, Hymie Gore leading the way again, carrying two suitcases. The rest of us followed in single file. I couldn’t believe we were doing it. Escaping from Antonio Rossi and his heavies. It seemed too good to be true.
It was.
Gore was about twenty feet from the opening to the alley when a man stepped out into the glare of the naked light. He was facing us. He just stood there in the center of the open space. Not moving. We stopped. I saw he was tall, slender. He was wearing a snap-brim fedora but no raincoat or topcoat. I couldn’t see his face, it was shadowed by the brim ofhishat. Butlsawthe gun in his hand. Itwas gleaming.
I heard Hymie Gore say ‘Aw.’ I think that’s what he said: ‘Aw.’
He started forward. This takes longer to write than it took to happen. Hymie hurtled toward the man. He dropped one of the suitcases he was carrying. He raised the other, vertically, so it was covering him from chin to groin. He was gripping it at the sides with both hands, elbows bent!
I thought I heard him say ‘Aw’ again.
It all happened so fast, so fast.
He was about ten feet away from the gunman when his arms snapped straight. The suitcase went flying forward. At the same time I heard the shots. This time they were sharp cracks, three of them in rapid succession. I didn’t know then if the bullets went through the suitcase. It didn’t make any difference.
Hymie was hit. 1 saw him shudder. He paused a brief second, then went falling forward, pawing futilely at his side pocket. The tall, slender gunman was still standing, the suitcase at his feet. I heard two more shots.
Then Gore crashed into him. The two of them went down in a tangled heap. I thought the gunman was trying to squirm free, get out from under the weight pressing him down.
‘Run!’ Donohue screamed. His shoulder hit me, spun me around. ‘Go that way! Go to the parking lot! The car!’
Dick and I ran, luggage bumping against our knees. We fled down that gloomy, walled alley, sobbing, gasping. I glanced back. Jack dropped his suitcase and shoulder bag. He darted forward. He had his gun out now. I saw him lean over, jam the muzzle into the ear of the gunman, who was still struggling to rise. The sound this time was more like a liquid splat. I saw something fly, glistening in the light at the end of the alley.
Jack bent over Hymie Gore briefly. Then he picked up the suitcase Gore had thrown. He came running back towards us. He paused long enough to grab up Gore’s other suitcase and the case and the shoulder bag he had dropped. He came stumbling toward us awkwardly, trying to hang on to everything he was carrying.
‘Move it!’ I heard him screaming. ‘Move it!’
Dick Fleming dashed around the corner and disappeared. But I stood there. I couldn’t move, wouldn’t move, not till Jack Donohue came panting up to me. Mouth open, eyes wild and straining, chest heaving. I took one of the suitcases from him. I stumbled with him to the exit from that horrible place. Black Jack disappeared around the corner. I took a final glance back.
I saw a squat, heavy man, guns in both hands, step into the light at the far end of the alley. There was no mistaking that figure: the broad shoulders, deep chest. The pinstriped, vested suit. The bowtie. A British bowler set squarely atop the heavy head.
He looked up briefly. Looked directly at me, as if calculating his chances for a lucky shot. Then he looked down at the two men on the ground. He leaned over, held one of his guns close. I heard a single shot. A boom that echoed back and forth from the walls of the narrow alley.
Then Jack Donohue was back, cursing. He clamped a hand on my arm, jerked me away.
‘Jack,’ I said, sobbing. ‘He’s dead, Hymie!’
‘So?’he said. ‘Run, goddamn you!’