Cage's Crew

by Martin Archer

  ******

  I had talked to Robbie and set the time and place for the meeting. So the knock on the door of the Motel Eight room Norm and I had rented just for the occasion was expected, but we both jumped when we heard it. I pulled out my pistol and held it by my side as I looked through the door’s security peephole. What I saw was a short and slender non-descript man of about sixty, maybe a bit more, who was standing where his face and empty hands could be seen. The room’s inside security chain was still latched when I cracked the door open so I could talk to the man.

  “Can I help you?” I inquired. The man looked like the man Robbie had described, short white hair and all.

  “Yeah. I think so. I got this room number from a guy I know. He said we might have something to talk about.”

  “Yeah, it’s possible we might. Come on in.”

  The man walked in and looked at us very tentatively.

  “Please raise your hands,” I said in a business-like voice. I was still holding the pistol by my side. It was a 38-caliber Short Colt revolver. Not the newest model of pistol by any means, but very reliable. Norm had brought it with him from his ranch. He’d picked it up at an estate sale after one of his neighbors died; it was squeaky clean.

  The man seemed almost pleased at being asked. I promptly handed the pistol to Norm and thoroughly searched the new arrival. Then I raised my hands and motioned for the man to do the same to me. When he finished searching me, Norm stood up and handed the pistol back to me. Then he too raised his hands and let the older man search him as well. No one said a word while we searched each other.

  “You’re Cage, aren’t you?” the new arrival asked when he finished checking to see if Norm was wearing a wire and held out his hand for a shake. “I heard about you a couple of years ago when I was doing a nickle in New Jersey. Some guys I know said you were okay—so long as you didn’t get crossed. Is that true?”

  “I hope so. And that ugly guy over there is Norm. I’ve known him for a while. He drives. You’re Tommy right?”

  The three of us talked for hours. First about people we knew in common and Tommy’s experiences both in prison and on jobs. And then, after I looked at Norm and got a nod back, about the job. Tommy got more and more enthusiastic when he learned about the potential size of the take and that he’d get a full third of it. I merely said I was sure I could get us in; I didn’t tell Norm and Tommy that I already had the key and the alarm codes or how I got them. They didn’t need to know any of that.

  “If the safe’s a Worldwide, it’s always tough. And if it’s a top of the line Worldwide it ain’t gonna be no laughing matter at all,” Tommy told us. “Most jewelry stores don’t go that tough. But it figures if it’s got as much in it as you say.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “If you can get me into the room, Cage, I can get into anything if I have enough time. It might be noisy, though, depending on how I have to do it. Weekends late at night are best when no one’s around to get excited. What about a security guard or periodic patrols?”

  “There’s no guard,” I told him. “But I don’t know about security patrols. “And I damn well should have asked Helen before I offed her. We’ll have to watch the place and find out.”

  “What about being seen from the street or windows or someone seeing the light I’ll need so I can see what I’m doing?” Tommy asked.

  “Not a problem,” I told him. “The safe is in the back room with no windows so we ought to be able to turn the lights on; but I’ll get us some infrared lights and goggles to use just in case. I never heard of a patrol car or a security guard with infra-red glasses.”

  I didn’t tell Tommy how I’d come to know so much about the jewelry store and its safe or why I was sure we’d be able to get inside the store without causing a fuss. Tommy didn’t ask. He didn’t need to know; it wasn’t his job to get the crew into the room where the safe was located—it was mine.

  To the surprise of me and Norm, Tommy had never worked using infrared light or any other night vision device. Although neither of us said anything about it at the time, it worried us both that Tommy had never used them. It made us think that maybe Tommy hadn’t been active for a while and his knowledge about how to get into a big modern safe might be out of date.

  I knew it was too late to get anyone else; sooner or later the Douglass’ bodies would be found. But, on reflection, I decided it wouldn’t much matter—the diamonds would still be in the jewelry store safe even if their bodies were found. I didn’t tell either Norm or Tommy about Martin and his wife, only that “they were away” and weren’t expected to return for a couple of weeks.

  Norm thought he knew what that meant but didn’t bother to ask. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer and really didn’t want to know. It meant nothing to Tommy. He didn’t know about the shootout in Chicago, let alone that there had been a drug deal involving the New York Mob and the diamonds we were going after.

  ******

  The three of us left the motel together so Norm could drive us past the jewelry store in one of the Fords. There wasn’t much to see except the normal-appearing front of the jewelry store and the empty display cases in its front windows. We didn’t drive around back. Tommy and Norm didn’t need to see it since I already knew where the rear door was located and had both of the two keys we’d need, one for the alarm and one for the door. Another reason I told Norm not to drive around back for a look was because we weren’t wearing disguises and I didn’t know how long the security camera at the rear door retained its images.

  After Norm drove us past the jewelry store with Tommy sitting up front so he could get a good look at it, he pulled the Ford burner into a grocery store parking lot a couple of miles down the street so we could talk. Tommy told us he was on board for the job and agreed to provide his own equipment and buy whatever explosives we would need “from a reliable source.”

  I gave Tommy a thick envelope with ten thousand in Franklins, hundred dollar bills, to cover his costs and told him to get in touch with Robbie and let him know if there were any problems or if he needed more money. I was happy to give the cash to Tommy—whoever financed a job always got double back before the rest of the take was shared out equally to the crew.

  Norm and I also mentioned our “other expenses” to Tommy without telling him what they were. We considered our Chicago expenses to be part of this job. That meant we’d already put up a fair amount of up-front money to be doubled if the job came off. With Norm nodding his confirmation, I merely gave an estimated number to Tommy without telling him the details.

  Tommy immediately agreed to our “other expenses” without asking any questions—as well he should; it was peanuts compared to what we would reasonably expect to get from selling the diamonds for used bills, even though I knew we’d have to find another buyer for them and might have to take less than fifteen percent.

  Selling the diamonds was a bridge we’d cross when we got to it. I wasn’t worried; Robbie had good connections for that sort of thing and knew the market.

  ******

  We dropped Tommy at his rental car after we finished talking in the grocery store parking lot. The three of us shook hands and reaffirmed our commitment to meet again on Friday as Tommy got out of the front seat of the car and I moved from where I’d been sitting in the rear to sit next to Norm. Tommy had parked a couple of blocks away from the motel where we’d first met and walked to the meeting. I appreciated his prudence and told him as much. Tommy beamed and Norm nodded. Everyone seemed satisfied with the plan.

  It was early Tuesday afternoon. Tommy would return his car to the Avis airport rental lot where he’d picked it up and fly out immediately “to get the stuff I’ll need.” He’d drive back in time to meet Norm and me on Friday afternoon. Tommy didn’t tell us where he was going and we didn’t ask.

  If everything worked out, we’d hit the jewelry store Saturday night; if there were any hitches, we’d hit it exactly one week later. We agreed that a Saturday night was the
best time to do the job because it would give us all day Sunday to finish it up and get clear of the Phoenix area before the store’s employees come to work after the weekend and find the empty safe.

  Chapter Six

  Norm and I visited Tucson for the first time on the day after Tommy left to get “the stuff I’m gonna need.” We drove down separately the first thing in the morning in two of our “just in case” backup cars, the second Ford and the Datsun. Our plan was to leave one of the backup cars in a twenty-four-hour inside parking lot with monthly parking and return to Phoenix in the other. It would give us a good chance to try the two cars out and make sure they would be dependable.

  The drive to Tucson took longer than Norm and I expected. As we finally approached the outskirts of the city, we were both no longer sure that our initial plan to commute from Phoenix every day was such a good idea. Norm and I admitted as much to each other when we got to Tucson and stopped at a noisy kid-filled local McDonald’s for lunch.

  Driving to Tucson had been mind-numbing and boring, what with the heavy traffic and the big trucks that made passing virtually impossible and going through a godforsaken desert complete with a dust storm and tacky tourist attractions.

  One thing we particularly noticed and talked about afterwards was that there are only few side roads running into the highway; there would be little chance of getting around a highway patrol roadblock on the highway to Phoenix. We agreed that maybe staying in Tucson until we finished the job might be a good idea after all—so long as we could get the hell out of there as soon as we had the diamonds and be long gone before anyone could sound the alarm.

  Norm and I had no idea how to get to Robert Martin’s office once we reached Tucson. All we knew was its street address. I should have asked Jack and Helen for more details about finding it before I clipped them, but I hadn’t. As a result, all I had was the name of the Martini’s company of financial advisors, its Tucson street address, and a fairly good description of Martini and his car—a beefy paisano wearing a Rolex, a gold chain, and obviously dyed black hair who drove a gaudy blue Cadillac convertible with a white top that he never put down.

  Finding the street address of Martin’s office had been easy. I’d googled Tucson financial advisors on the old Dell computer in an alcove off the lobby that passed as my motel’s business center. Martin’s company had its own website touting its many years of experience giving investment advice and its “willingness to listen.”

  We could, of course, have used the driving instructions feature of our cell phones or used them to look up the office address on MapQuest. But I didn’t and I wouldn’t let Norm do it either; I never used a cell phone or computer for such purposes except in an absolute emergency, even when I had access to a prepaid burner. Why? Because I didn’t want to be caught with a phone and have an address or website inquiry on it to connect me to a job. I’d been told by phone salesmen that my searches couldn’t be recovered, but I’d read too many stories about police and the feds hacking into computers and cell phone memories.

  ******

  When we finished eating at McDonald’s, Norm did what he always did when he wanted to leave no record linking him to someplace, he asked someone how to find the street. In this case, it was the cashier of the twenty-four-hour parking garage, which we found after we finished lunch, where Norm signed up and paid three months’ rent in advance for a year of parking for the Ford he’d driven to Tucson to park as an “escape car.”

  Once the Ford was parked, we were both in the Datsun and neither Norm nor I had a clue as to what we would do after we found Martin’s financial office. We’d watch it, we supposed, until Martin himself showed up—and then follow him until we could catch him for a private talk. Norm didn’t ask me how it was that I knew what Martin looked like or what he drove. He was pretty sure he knew.

  Later that day, when Norm and I were driving back to Phoenix together in the Datsun and finally had a chance to really talk, we both agreed that Tucson was going to be difficult. The Martini family’s financial services branch office was on the second floor of a large and modern office building. Almost certainly the building and the office had a number of security cameras, and there was almost certainly an information desk in the building lobby.

  Norm and I drove straight back to Scottsdale after we put our “just in case” Ford escape car in a long term parking lot with twenty-four hour access and drove past the Martini’s financial company’s branch office. Tucson, we agreed, had been somewhat productive; we’d learned that we would have to talk to Roberto Martini at someplace other than at his office. We’d also checked to make sure Norm’s new scanner picked up the local police frequencies.

  ******

  Norm arranged a new motel room in a Phoenix suburb for our Friday rendezvous and for Tommy to use as a place to park his van and to sleep that night. He explained to the desk clerk of the small and somewhat dilapidated highway motel that his credit card was almost completely maxed out and asked if he could prepay in cash for a quiet room in the back for one week. He asked for a discount “because I’m a day sleeper so I won’t require maid service to come in and do the room.”

  “Of course, sir,” said the middle-aged Indian man behind the counter “I can give you twenty percent off since you won’t require our cleaning service.” He almost certainly owned the place and preferred cash that he could forget to report. “We would be most pleased to accommodate you."

  Norm immediately registered with a false ID and an inaccurate make and license number for his car and returned to the motel where he and I were actually staying.

  “I found a good one, Cage, a real good one,” he said after he used his key to enter the room where I was lounging on one of its twin beds reading the local newspaper.

  Thirty minutes later, I used a burner cell phone to text the name of the new motel and the room number to one of Robbie’s clean prepaid cell phones so he’d have it when Tommy called to get the location of the crew’s next meeting. Norm had bought the phone and its prepaid time at a Phoenix Walmart a few hours earlier and all the numbers I texted to Robbie were adjusted to reflect the private code we used.

  ******

  A bedraggled and obviously tired Tommy drove in late Friday morning and met Norm and me at a Pancake House to pick up the key to his motel room. It was next door to mine; Norm had been using it until he moved over to use the other bed in mine.

  Tommy was driving a non-descript white van with Oregon plates and it was packed with equipment and supplies. The signs on both sides of the van and on its rear door said Patrick’s Cleaning Services in very large and readable orange letters. Only if anyone had looked closely would they see that the company name and its telephone number had all been professionally painted on peel-off magnetic signs.

  Robbie had been right; Tommy was a professional. The Oregon plates on the van were undoubtedly stolen or switched and there was an Oregon area code on its phone number. Norm and I couldn’t see what was underneath the deliberately memorable signs on the sides and rear of the van and we didn’t ask or try to look. Tommy undoubtedly intended to drive out of town in a plain vanilla van with license plates for another state immediately after the job was finished. We didn’t have a clue as to where that might be and we didn’t ask.

  The three of us talked quietly both at lunch and then, after an obviously tired Tommy took a brief nap, we talked again when we had dinner together that evening at yet another of the Phoenix area’s innumerable coffee shops and strip mall restaurants.

  We sat outside and the weather was surprisingly comfortable. The place was crowded as we ate our hamburgers, but no one sat close enough to overhear us. Tommy once again assured us that he was prepared to open any Worldwide safe if we could get him in and he had enough time.

  “How much time is enough time?” I asked for the second time. I wanted to be sure.

  Tommy was not offended by my repeating the same question I’d asked earlier. If anything, he was pleased that I understood
and took seriously his time requirements and uncertainty.

  “An hour if it’s small and easy, Cage, up to twenty-four if its new, big, and top of the line. If we get in about three in the morning, we should be long gone by Sunday evening at the latest—God willing and the creeks don’t rise.”

  Tommy’s accent was pure West Virginia or Kentucky mountain.

  ******

  All three of us slept late and napped until a little before ten on Saturday night. Then Norm and I put on our disguises and drove to Tommy’s motel to help him move his tools and supplies into one of the burner Fords Norm had bought from a Craigslist seller. It was instantly apparent that it was going to be a tight fit for the three of us to get into the car along with Tommy’s big crowbars and other tools, two big acetylene tanks, and a very heavy wooden crate of explosives.

  Tommy’s face took on a worried look as soon as he saw us drive up in the Ford.

  “What’s wrong,” I demanded as I climbed out and shook the fake ponytail I had hanging out from under my New York Mets hat. All three us were wearing cleaning service uniforms over our regular clothes. Tommy had brought them. The name on the pocket of my uniform was Jack.

  “It’s not big enough, Cage, that’s what’s wrong. There’s probably only enough room for two of my acetylene tanks at most. I brought six and I may need them all if the safe’s a bitch to get into and I can’t blow it for some reason. But there’s no way they’ll all fit in the car. We might be able to squeeze in another tank if we leave the trunk open, but that’s it.”

  My original plan had been for Norm to drop off Tommy and me and Tommy’s stuff off at the rear door of the jewelry store and then for Norm to drive his newly acquired Ford burner and park it in the lookout’s spot he’d selected. He’d come back and get us and Tommy’s equipment when the job was finished.