Johnny came awake with a start and looked at his strap watch, then he relaxed. The time was 06.30… plenty of time, he told himself and he looked at Melanie, sleeping by his side. Her long black hair half covered her face and she was making a soft snorting sound as she slept.
Cautiously, not to disturb her, he reached for his pack of cigarettes on the bedside table, lit up and dragged smoke gratefully into his lungs.
Today, he told himself was D-day: Friday 29th. The collection began at 10.00. By 15.00 be and Sammy would have collected something like $150,000! The Big Take! In eighteen hours time, if he had any luck, all this money would be his and safely stashed away in a Greyhound luggage locker.
If he had any luck.
He fingered the St. Christopher medal lying on his bare chest. He thought of his mother: as long as you wear it, nothing really bad can happen to you.
Lying still, he recalled the past days that had slipped away so quickly. On Monday, he had gone the rounds with Bernie, meeting people, hearing them yak, looking for new sites for the one-arm bandits. To Bernie’s startled amazement, Johnny had placed five machines in new locations on his first day. As usual, Massino had made the right choice in picking Johnny. Most people, living in the City, knew Johnny by reputation: a tough, hard man and good with a gun. When he walked into some cafe and looked directly at the owner, suggesting in his quiet voice that the owner could do with one of Massino’s gambling machines, there was no argument.
Even Andy had been pleased when Johnny’s total for four days had been eighteen machines placed in new locations.
Now here was Friday 29th. One more collection and he would then move into the world of one-arm bandits and Bernie would gratefully bow out. These past four days had told Johnny that the job wasn’t all that bad. Unlike Bernie, he had the reputation behind him to wave in people’s faces: he realized no one respected Bernie and he marvelled that Bernie had lasted as long as he had.
Johnny touched off the ash of his cigarette as he stared up at the ceiling. He was relieved that he had no qualms, no feeling of nerves. He thought of all that money: $150,000! He mustn’t be too successful with the one-arm bandits, he warned himself. He wanted to retire from the scene in two years. He could wait that long, but no longer. His first year would be good.
Maybe, he might even qualify for the one per cent deal, but the following year, he would slow down, appearing to lose his grip, and knowing Massino and Andy, they would look around for a younger man. Then he could bow out as Bernie was now bowing out.
Melanie stirred and half sat up.
“You want coffee, honey?” she asked sleepily.
He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over her.
“There’s time.” His fingers caressed her breast and she sighed happily.
Later, when they were having breakfast, Johnny said casually, “I’ll see you tonight, baby. We’ll go to Luigi’s.”
Melanie, happily eating pancakes and syrup, nodded.
“Yes, Johnny.”
He paused, not quite sure how to tell her. Goddamn it! He thought, this can’t be complicated. Tell her half the truth. She’ll buy anything… just half the truth.
“Baby, I have a job to do tonight,” he said as he cut into his pancake. “Are you listening?”
She looked up. The syrup was making a tiny trickle down her chin.
“Yes.”
“This job is nothing to do with my boss and he wouldn’t want me to do it. It means a little more money for me, but Massino mustn’t know about it.” He paused and looked at her. She was listening. Her black eyes were already showing signs of panic. She had always been terrified of Massino and hated Johnny working for him. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he went on, his voice soft and soothing. “You know what an alibi means?”
She put down her knife and fork and nodded.
“I need an alibi, baby, and I want you to supply it. Nov listen, tonight, we eat at Luigi’s, then we come here. I leave my car outside. Around midnight, I’ll leave you for thirty minutes while I do this job. I come back and if any questions are asked you say I didn’t leave you once we got back after dinner. Get it?”
Melanie put her hands to her face and her elbows on the table. It was a bad sign, Johnny told himself that she had now lost interest in her food.
“What job?” she asked.
He too suddenly didn’t want anything more to eat. He pushed his plate aside and lit a cigarette.
“That’s something you needn’t know, baby,” he said. “It’s a job. All you have to tell anyone who might ask is that we spent the night here together and I didn’t leave you for a second. Will you do that?”
She stared at him, her soft black eyes frightened. “Who will ask?”
“The chances are no one will ask, baby.” He forced a smile. “But maybe the fuzz will ask… maybe Massino.”
She flinched.
“I don’t want trouble, Johnny. No… don’t ask me to do it.”
He pushed back his chair and stood up. He had half expected this reaction, knowing Melanie as he did. He moved to the window and looked down at the slow- moving traffic. He was sure of her. She would do it, he told himself, but she needed to be persuaded.
He let a long silence build up, then turning, he came back to the table and sat down.
“I’ve never asked you to do anything for me, have I? Not once. I’ve done a lot for you. You have this apartment, the furniture, you have lots of things I have given you, but never once have I asked you to do anything for me… now, I’m asking. It’s important.”
She stared at him.
“I just have to say that you were here tonight and you didn’t leave?”
“That’s it. You say after we had dinner at Luigi’s we came back here and I didn’t leave here until eight o’clock in the morning. Get it? I didn’t move from here from ten tonight until eight tomorrow.”
Melanie looked down at her cold pancake.
“Well, if it’s so important, I guess I could say that,” she said doubtfully.
“That’s fine.” He wished he could convey to her how important it was. “So, okay, you’ll do it?”
“I don’t like doing it, but I’ll do it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to control his exasperation.
“Baby, this is serious. The fuzz could yell at you. You know how the fuzz act. You must stick with this. Even if Massino bawls at you, you must stick with this… Do you understand?”
“Must I do it, Johnny? I’d rather not.”
He fondled her hand, trying to instil confidence in her.
“You’ll be repaying a debt, baby. Don’t you want to help me?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes showing her fear, then she put her other hand over his and gripped it hard.
“Okay, Johnny… I’ll do it.”
And he knew by the tone of her voice she would do it and he relaxed.
He got to his feet and she came around the table to press herself against him. His hand slid up under her nightdress and cupped her heavy buttocks.
“I’ve got to get moving, baby,” he said. “See you tonight. Don’t worry… it’s nothing, baby… just a little lie.”
Leaving her, he ran down the stairs and to where he had parked his car. Ten minutes later, he was back in his apartment. He shaved and showered. As he stood under the cold water, he wondered if Melanie would have the guts to face Massino if things turned sour. Maybe she would. He touched his St. Christopher medal. The trick with this steal was not to let Massino nor the fuzz even suspect who had taken the money.
He drove up to Massino’s office, arriving there a few minutes to io.00. Toni Capello and Ernie Lassini were already there, propping up a wall in the office, smoking. Sammy came up the stairs as Johnny entered the office.
“Hi!” Johnny paused. “The big day. You got your uniform fixed?”
Sammy’s face was already glistening with sweat. There was a grey tinge under the black of his skin. Johnny could see he was scared to death and he knew Sammy’s panic would grow as the collection went on.
“Mr. Andy’s fixing it,” Sammy said huskily and moved into the office.
Toni and Ernie greeted them. The four men stood around for some minutes, then Andy came from his office with two collection bags. They were handcuffed together and there was a spare handcuff which Andy snapped on Sammy’s wrist and which was attached to one of the bags.
Toni said, “I wouldn’t have your job for a thousand bucks.” He was grinning, seeing Shimmy’s fear. “Man! Could some guy take a swing at your wrist with an axe!”
“Cut it out!” Johnny snapped, his voice dangerous. “No one’s swinging no axes.”
There was a sudden silence as Massino came into the office.
“All set?” Massino asked Andy.
“They’re on their way.”
“Well…” Massino grinned at Johnny. “So…” Johnny waited, his face expressionless.
“Last round-up, huh?” Massino said. “You’re going to do fine with the bandits, Johnny.” He looked at Sammy. “You’re going to do fine as my chauffeur. Okay, get moving. The Big Take!” He went to his desk and sat down.
As Toni and Ernie, followed by Sammy, moved to the door,
Massino said, “Johnny?”
Johnny paused.
“You got that goddamn medal on?” Massino was grinning.
“I’m never without it, Mr. Joe.”
Massino nodded.
“Watch it! You could need it on this trip.”
“We three will be watching it, Mr. Joe,” Johnny said quietly.
The four men left the office and walked down the stairs to Johnny’s car.
Five hours later, it was over. There had been no trouble. The police looked the other way when Johnny double parked, slowing the flow of traffic. Money rolled into the bags. Sammy, expecting to hear any second the bang of a gun and to feel a bullet smash into his body was almost gibbering by the time Johnny pulled up outside Massino’s office block.
Johnny touched him on his shoulder.
“Finished,” he said quietly. Now the Rolls.”
But Sammy still didn’t feel safe. He had to cross the sidewalk, dragging the heavy bags before he finally reached the haven of Massino’s office.
With Johnny at his side and Ernie and Toni, fanned out, their hands gripping their gun butts, he got out of the car and into the rain. He cringed at the crowd waiting around the entrance to the office block to cheer the four men as they arrived.
Then the blessed dimness of the lobby and the ride up in the elevator.
“How does it feel, boy, to be carrying all that dough?” Toni asked.
Sammy looked at him, then away. He was thinking that tomorrow he would be really safe, fitted with a grey uniform, wearing a peaked cap with a black cockade and at the wheel of a Corniche Rolls. After ten years of fear, he had come through without being shot at and without having his hand chopped off and now he was heading for pastures green.
With Johnny at his side, he shambled into Massino’s office and set down the two heavy bags on Massino’s desk.
Andy was there, waiting. Massino was chewing a dead cigar. As Andy unlocked the handcuff, Massino lifted his eyebrows at Johnny. It was a silent question: “No trouble?” Johnny shook his head.
Then came the ritual while Andy counted the money. It took some time. Finally, Andy looked at Massino and pursing his thin lips said, “This is the tops, Mr. Joe: one hundred and eighty-six thousand. Some take!”
Johnny felt a rush of hot blood down his spine. The jackpot! In a few hours this enormous sum of money would be his! A thirtyfooter? He would now be able to make new plans. A forty-five-footer now came into his mind.
He watched Andy tug the two bags into his office and after a moment or so, he heard the old-fashioned safe door clang shut.
Massino took from his desk drawer a bottle of Johnny Walker. Ernie produced glasses. Massino poured himself a generous shot, then offered the bottle to Johnny.
“Go ahead,” Massino said. “You’re my boy, Johnny. Twenty years! I wanted you to be in on the biggest take.” He leaned back, grinning. “Now, you’ve got a career ahead of you.”
Ernie poured the rest of the drinks. Sammy refused. There was a pause while the men toasted themselves, then the telephone bell started up and Massino waved them away.
As Johnny and Sammy walked down the stairs, Sammy said, “It’s been tough, Mr. Johnny and I’m sorry you and me won’t work together no more. You’ve been good to me. You’ve helped me. I want to say thanks.”
“Let’s go drink beer,” Johnny said and as he walked into the rain, he felt the spray of the sea against his face and the lurch of a fortyfive-footer beneath his feet.
They drank beer in the dimness of Friday’s, bar. “I guess this is
good-bye, Sammy,” Johnny said as Sammy waved to the barman for a second round. “You see… nothing ever happened all these years. You were scared about nothing.”
“I guess.” Sammy shook his head. Mere are folk who always worry and folk who don’t. You’re lucky, Mr. Johnny. You don’t ever seem to worry.”
Johnny thought of the steal. Worry? No! After all be was over forty: half way to death. Even if the steal turned sour, he could tell himself when the crunch came that at least he had tried to achieve an ambition. But the steal wasn’t going to turn sour. There would be no crunch.
Out in the rain, the two men—one white, the other black— looked at each other. There was an awkward pause, then Johnny offered his hand.
“Well, so long, Sammy,” he said. “We’ll keep in touch.”
They gripped hands.
“Keep saving your money,” Johnny went on. “I’ll be around. Anytime, anywhere if you want to yak… you know.”
Sammy’s eyes grew misty.
“I know, Mr. Johnny. I’m your friend… remember, Mr. Johnny. I’m your friend.”
Johnny gave him a light punch on his chest, then walked away. As he walked he felt a shutter was closing down, cutting off a slice of his life. The clang of the shutter in his mind warned him that he was now even more out on his own.
Driving slowly, he reached his apartment at 17.20, climbed the stairs and let himself in. He felt in need of a drink, but he resisted it. No alcohol. He had to be sharp for this job: no whisky to make him feel reckless. He thought of the hours ahead: the dinner with Melanie: the slow creeping minutes. He went to the window and looked down on the narrow, traffic- congested street, then he stripped off and took a shower, put on his best suit and then looked at his watch. It was now 18.00. God! he thought, when waiting, how time crawled!
He checked the things he would need: a weighted rubber cosh, a
folded newspaper, a pair of gloves, his cigarette lighter, the key to the safe and the left- luggage locker key. All these he laid out on the table. There was nothing else he needed except luck. He put his fingers inside his shirt and touched the St. Christopher medal. In two years’ time, he told himself, he would be at sea with the spokes of a tiller in his hands, steering a forty-five-footer into the bay with the sun on his face and the roar of powerful motors making the deck tremble.
Sitting before the window, he listened to the noise of the street floating up to him, the sound of the traffic and the kids yelling until the hands of his watch crawled to 19.30. Then he got to his feet, slid the cosh into his hip pocket, strapped on his gun harness, checked his .38, took the newspaper into the bathroom and dampened it under the tap before putting it into his jacket pocket, put the two keys and the gloves in another pocket and he was ready to go.
He drove to Melanie’s apartment, arriving there just on 20.00. She was waiting in the doorway and got into the car as Johnny pulled up.
“Hi, baby!” He tried to make his voice sound casual. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” Her tone was flat. He could see she was uneasy and he hoped to God she hadn’t changed her mind.
The meal wasn’t a success although Johnny extravagantly ordered lobster cocktails and turkey breasts done in hot chili sauce. Neither of them did more than pick at the food. Johnny couldn’t help thinking of the moment when he would have to tackle Benno. The business of rushing the two heavy bags across to the Greyhound station. He would have to leave the operation until after 02.00: between 02.00 and 03.00. Everything depended on luck and putting down his fork, he touched the St. Christopher medal through his shirt.
“I wish you would tell me what you are going to do, Johnny,” Melanie said suddenly. She pushed her turkey away, only half eaten. “It worries me so. It’s nothing bad, is it?”
“A job. Forget it, baby. You don’t want to know anything about it… it’s the best way. You want coffee?”
“No.”
“Let’s go to a movie. Come on, baby, snap out of it. It’s going to be all right.”
Going to a movie was a good idea. It had grip and even Johnny forgot what he was going to do in a few hour’s time. They returned to Melanie’s apartment just after midnight and went up the stairs.
On the stairs, they ran into a girl who had an apartment opposite Melanie’s. They paused to have a word. The girl knew Johnny and got on well with Melanie.
“Out of cigarettes!” she said. “My luck!”
This chance meeting pleased Johnny. Just in case anything turned sour, this girl could say he was with Melanie.
The girl went on down the stairs and Melanie and Johnny went on up. Johnny had left his car parked outside the entrance and the girl would see it.
“Want coffee?” Melanie asked, dropping her coat on the settee.
“A lot of it, baby.” Johnny sat down. “I don’t leave here for a couple of hours. I’ve got to stay awake.”
After a while, she came back with a large pot of coffee, a cup and saucer which she set down on the table beside him.
“Thanks, baby, now you go to bed,” Johnny said. “There’s nothing to worry about. Go to bed… go to sleep.”
She stood hesitating, looking at him, then silently she went into the bedroom and shut the door. Johnny grimaced as he poured strong, black coffee into the cup.
He sat there, sipping coffee until 02.25, then he got to his feet and moving silently, he opened the bedroom door and looked into the darkness of the room.
“You going now?” Melanie asked out of the darkness, her voice quavering.
“Why aren’t you asleep, for God’s sake?”
“I can’t sleep. I’m so worried, Johnny.”
Women! he thought. Maybe he should have picked on someone else for his alibi. He shook his head in despair. What the hell was the matter with him? He wouldn’t need an alibi! The way he had fixed this, Massino would never think he had taken the money.
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes, baby. Take it easy… try to sleep,” and he closed the door.
He left the apartment and walked down to the deserted street. Keeping in the shadows, he walked fast, heading for Massino’s office.
It took him ten minutes of fast walking to reach the entrance of Massino’s office block. He approached it from across the street and he saw a light on in Andy’s office. That meant Benno was up there, either sleeping or smoking or doing some goddamn thing, while he kept watch.
Johnny looked to right and left. The street was deserted. He crossed the street, entered the dimly lit lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Closing the elevator door gently, he walked up the two remaining flights to Massino’s office.
The job had to be done fast so his alibi would stand up. Reaching the passage leading to Massino’s and Andy’s offices, be took out his handkerchief and removed the two electric light bulbs in the corridor. The stream of light coming through Andy’s glazed door was enough for him to see. He took the newspaper from his pocket. It was still slightly damp. He paused for a moment to listen, then he crumpled the newspaper and put it down hard against Andy’s office door. He lit his lighter and touched off the newspaper. Small flames made smoke. Johnny stood back, cosh in hand, and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a muttered curse, then the door was unlocked and Benno, squat, heavily built, stood in the doorway, gaping at the smouldering paper. Johnny waited, pressed against the wall.
Benno moved forward as Johnny knew he would. As he began to stamp on the smouldering newspaper, Johnny’s cosh descended on the back of his bead.
Johnny didn’t pause to make certain he had put Benno away. He knew he had and there was no point in wasting seconds. He stepped to the safe, took the key from his pocket and opened the safe. He dragged out the two bags. Sweat was running down his face. The bags were a lot heavier than he had expected.
Taking the safe key, carrying the bags, he stepped over Benno’s inert body, paused for a brief moment to stamp out the smouldering newspaper, then thumbed the elevator button.
Descending to the ground floor, he looked cautiously into the deserted lobby, then carrying a bag in either gloved hand, he moved into the street. Again he paused, then satisfied he had the street to himself, he bolted across to the Greyhound bus station.
A big negro was sleepily brushing up and he didn’t look at Johnny as he opened the locker. As Johnny heaved the bags into the locker, he heard a late bus start up and saw its headlights as it moved out onto the street. He had to shove hard to get the door shut. He turned the key, removed it and then walked out of the bus station.
The first move of the operation had jelled! He ducked down a side street and began to run. $186,000! There was a surge of triumph in him as he ran. It now couldn’t turn sour! Massino would never suspect him! As he ran, he felt a strong overpowering sexual need.
Darting through the back streets, deserted at this time of night, he finally reached Melanie’s apartment block. He paused in the shadows, checking, making sure that no one was there to break his alibi, then moving fast, he entered the apartment block and took the elevator to Melanie’s floor.
Again he paused in the elevator to make sure there was no one in the passage, then he darted across to Melanie’s door, turned the handle and was in.
He leaned against the door. His heart thumping. Well, he had done it. He looked at his watch. The steal had taken twenty-five minutes!
“Johnny?”
Melanie, in her shortie nightdress, came into the living-room.
He forced a grin.
“Here I am… like I said… nothing to worry about.”
She stared at him, her black eyes wide with fear. “What happened?”
“I said not to worry.” He took her in his arms. “But something’s
going to happen right now… guess what?”
Picking her up, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, stripping off his jacket, dumping his gun harness and then pulling off his shirt. Maybe the tension of the past half hour was getting at him, but he wanted her as never before.
She lay still, staring at him.
“You and me… this time it’s going to be the best,” he said as he was pulling the zipper of his trousers, he suddenly felt horribly naked. He stood motionless, looking down at her, feeling his raging desire for her like a flame hit by a bucketful of water.
“Your medal,” Melanie said.
Johnny straightened. He looked down at his hairy chest. The St. Christopher medal no longer hung on its silver chain. With shaking hands he lifted the chain and saw the tiny hook that carried the medal was bent and open.
For the first time in his life, he felt a cold clutch of fear.
“Look for it!” The snap of his voice and the expression in his eyes brought Melanie off the bed. Together they searched the bedroom, then the living- room, but the medal wasn’t in the apartment.
He ran into the bedroom, struggled into his shirt, put on his holster, then his jacket.
Melanie said fearfully, “What is it, Johnny? Tell me!”
“Go to bed… wait for me,” and he left the apartment. He paused to search the corridor, then the cage of the elevator… no medal. He rode down to the lobby, searched that, then went out onto the street. He was shaking now. He paused to drag down lungfuls of damp air as he tried to control his rising panic.
This was no way to act, he told himself. Where had he dropped the medal? Unlocking his car, he searched around the driver’s seat… no medal.
He relocked the car and stood thinking. It could have dropped anywhere, but if it had dropped in Andy’s office, he was cooked. God! Was he cooked! All his plans, his confident two-year wait before he bought the boat would be shrivelled in the heat that Massino would turn on. Leaving his medal in Andy’s office was like leaving a signed confession that he had taken the money!
There was still a chance. He started to his car, then stopped. Think straight, you fool! he told himself. It could still be all right. Leave the car… it’s part of your alibi!
He started down the street in a shambling run, covered the same ground, moving down the back streets, deserted but for a stray cat or an old drunk, sleeping in the doorway.
He had to make sure the medal wasn’t in Andy’s office. It didn’t matter if it were found in the elevator, in Massino’s office, but it would be fatal if it were found in Andy’s office because no one except Andy and Benno were ever allowed into the office.
Breathing heavily, Johnny reached the corner of the street that led directly to Massino’s office block. He came to an abrupt stop as he saw a police prowl car parked outside the office block.
Too late!
Benno had recovered and had alerted the fuzz and even as Johnny stood there in the shadows, he saw a Lincoln pull up and from it spilled Toni and Ernie who chased into the building.
Where had he dropped the medal?
As long as you wear it nothing really bad can happen to you.
He was no longer wearing it and he was superstitious enough to be certain that the medal was lying in front of the safe: a signed confession that he had taken the money! He looked across at the Greyhound station. He hadn’t the nerve to go there, to take the two heavy bags and lug them back to his car. Toni or Ernie might look out of the window, down into the street and spot him. Anyway, now he dare not use his car. All the mob knew it by sight. He would have to go on the run. If he acted fast, he could make it. The money would be safe in the locker. He would wait until the heat cooled off, then sneak back, get the money and sneak out. He knew he was thinking like an idiot, but panic had its grip on him.
With screaming sirens, more police cars arrived. Then as Johnny stood against the wall, watching, his heart hammering, Massino’s Rolls swept to the kerb. He watched Massino get out of his car and walk fast across the sidewalk and into the building.
He had to get out of town and fast, Johnny thought. Money? He must have money if he was to keep one jump ahead of Massino. He thought of all that money stashed away in the locker. No use to him right now. He had to have an immediate get-away stake.
Melanie? She never had any money. His mind raced. Maybe he was panicking for nothing. The medal could be anywhere, but in his bones, he was sure it was in Andy’s office.
Sammy!
Sammy had three thousand dollars under his bed. Johnny had to have money! He couldn’t hide from Massino without money.
He began to run down the back streets. It was a long run. Sammy’s pad was half way across the town. The City’s clock was striking the half hour as Johnny, panting, started up the stairs that led to Sammy’s fourth-floor pad. He knocked on Sammy’s door, but there was no answer. He listened, knocked again, then turned the handle: the door swung open.
“Sammy?”
His fingers groped and found the light switch and snapped it down.
The tiny room held a truckle bed, a two-ringed gas cooker, an armchair, a battered T.V. set, but no Sammy. Then Johnny remembered Sammy always shacked up with his girl, Cloe, on Friday nights.
He moved into the room and shut the door. Kneeling, he groped under the bed and found a small steel box in which Sammy had told him he kept his savings. He pulled the box out. It wasn’t even locked! Lifting the lid he saw the box was crammed with ten dollar bills. He didn’t hesitate, acutely aware that every second he wasted decreased his chances of escape.
He stuffed his pockets with the bills, leaving the box empty. For a brief moment he wondered how Sammy would react, then he told himself he was only borrowing the money. In a short while, he would repay Sammy with interest.
Leaving the room, he started down the stairs. Now to get out of town! He wondered how long the fuzz would take to set up road blocks. Here was the danger, but he had to get out! His fingers touched the butt of his .38. If he had to, he would shoot his way out!
Moving into the street, his mind raced. He had to have a hideout! Somewhere where he could be completely lost for at least a month. Where could he go? Then he thought of Giovanni Fusseli. It was an inspired thought. Fusseli had been Johnny’s father’s best friend. He must be over seventy now. Maybe he was dead! Johnny had heard from him five years ago. He had been living in a small town—what the hell was it’s name? Jackson? Packson? Jackson! It was on the freeway to Miami. If he could get there, he was sure Fusseli would shelter him.
He would have to steal a car. If he could get to Reddy’s cafe where all the south-bound truckers stopped for a meal, he could bribe one of them to take him to Jackson.
He stood hesitatingly as he looked up and down the street. There were a number of cars parked. As he started towards them, he saw the headlights of a car swing into the street and he stepped back into the shadows. The car came slowly towards him, then pulled up by the kerb and immediately under a street light. A young, thin man with shoulder-length hair got out of the car. The street light showed Johnny his shabbiness: tattered jeans and a dirty sweat shirt. Acting on impulse and as the young man was locking the car door, Johnny stepped up to him.
“Want to earn twenty bucks?” Johnny asked quietly.
The young man stared at him.
“Doing what?”
’Drive me to Reddy’s cafe.”
“Hey, man! That’s twenty miles out of town!”
“At a dollar a mile, is that so rough?”
The young man grinned.
“You’ve got yourself a deal. Let’s have the bread and we’re on our way.”
Johnny gave him a ten dollar bill.
“You get the rest when we get there.”
“Fine… I’m Joey. Who are you, buster?”
“Charlie,” Johnny said. “Let’s go.” He waited until Joey had unlocked the car door, then got into the passenger’s seat. Joey slid under the driving wheel.
“Listen, Joey, keep to the back streets. Drive fast, but not too fast… get it?”
Joey laughed.
“Like that, huh? The fuzz bothering you?”
“You don’t earn twenty bucks flapping with your mouth,” Johnny said quietly. The cold menace in his voice made Joey stiffen. “Just drive.”
At least, Johnny thought, this punk knows the City. Although it took longer, Joey kept to the back streets and in ten minutes or so they approached the freeway out of the City.
This was where trouble could be waiting, Johnny thought and he eased his gun in its holster for a quick draw. But there was no trouble. Johnny wasn’t to know that road blocks were set up thirty minutes after he had left the City.
The Police Commissioner had been out of town and the Assistant Police Commissioner had no time for Massino. He was deliberately uncooperative, delaying the road blocks, throwing his rank at Massino, pointing out that the Numbers gamble was illegal anyway.
Massino, raging, now regretted he hadn’t taken care of the Assistant Police Commissioner as he had taken care of his boss with a new car every year, money to take care of his goddamn kids’ education and a big insurance policy to take care of his goddamn wife.
Johnny paid Joey off, watched him drive away, then walked into Reddy’s cafe to find a trucker who would drive him south.
His panic was slowly subsiding. So far… so good. Now for Jackson and a safe hide-away.