by Scott Soloff
"Half hour will do it Jimmy."
"In that case Connor, I’ll see that you are not disturbed." He backs out of the alley and parks his car; blocking the alley. Kills his lights and sits there. This Philly police officer is now on our payroll as a sentry. Un-fucking-believable.
Connor walked back to the door, gave me this huge grin and finished picking the lock. Once inside he bypassed the alarm. Note: This is not the same as disabling the alarm. By doing the former he is tricking the system into thinking that nothing has occurred. Doing the latter would probably send a silent signal to some monitoring company or even the police department.
The two Rotties are Zena and Zeus; Nathan's dogs. I point at the rear stairs and tell them, "Search." Up they go. This is risky on my part. If they discover someone upstairs, unarmed, they'll simply detain them. However, it they discover someone holding a gun, well, that's a different matter. The possible outcomes are: the dogs may disarm them; injure them slightly; injure severely or even kill them. Depends on how they perceive the threat. The truth is I really don't care. As much as harming another human being disturbs me, it's much better than us being shot.
"What now?" TJ asks.
"First set up the screen." Burger's safe is set up behind the counter at the front of the store. That means anyone passing the front window would observe us breaking into the safe. TJ stopped at Hocus Pocus, a magic supply shop, on S. 4th between Lombard and South Streets. There he purchased a black back-drop with a light frame for quick assembly and easy breakdown. An impromptu stage curtain for magicians and other performers.
"TJ, after that come back here to the office. Go through Burger's paperwork; let's see what we can learn."
Connor and I stand around for three whole minutes twiddling our thumbs. TJ returns and goes to work on the desk. There is enough light from the street lamps out front to navigate to the safe. Once in position, Connor places a small maglite between his teeth. One minute later the floor safe is open. I often wonder where this boy picked up his skills.
The first thing that Connor does is to take pictures of the contents in situ with his smart phone. When he gives the word we empty the safe and go through everything; one piece at a time.
There's twenty or thirty thousand in cash. I see the cards that Burger said he bought from Hari. What I do not see is a 1909 Honus Wagner.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I close my eyes and think. Could I be wrong? No. I’m not wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
I tell Connor, "Put it all back. Lock it up."
I return to the office. "Look what I found." TJ's holding up a piece of paper. It's too dark for me to read.
The Rotties have returned and are sitting in front of the desk. Kato is still out front guarding my brother. "What is it TJ?"
"Bank statement. Mr. Burger has a safety deposit box. Bingo."
Connor, carrying the broken down backdrop under his arm, and the beast step into the office.
"Did you hear that brother? Safety deposit box. How the hell are we going to break into that?"
That gentlemanly crook, aka my brother Connor Jones, smiles that beautiful smile.
"I've got a plan."
Base hit
Connor disappeared.
The next morning when I awoke there was no sign of my brother. Fortunately, Kelly's mane of red hair was spread out on the pillow next to me. Without disturbing her, I made my way to the kitchen to start the coffee.
"Mindin' your own business still is the best way to stay out of trouble." My dear Uncle Moe. He's sitting at the kitchen table.
"And this would be advice that you yourself have followed, is it?"
A brief chuckle. "No laddie. But bein' that your dear father is no longer with us, I felt it my duty to impart the wisdom of my experience upon you."
"No offense Uncle, but you're full of shit."
"None taken, boyo."
Kelly came padding into the kitchen and sits. To me, "Coffee." To Moses, "Good morning Uncle Moe."
"Aye, and a lovely day it is."
I deliver the cups to the table. "Want to take a trip to London." Kelly tilts her head ever so slightly; looks up to me and said, "Sure. I can get away for a couple of days. What's this all about?"
"Connor needs some help."
"You know what, tough guy. I suspect that deep down inside you're committed to dragging me into a life of crime." Penelope Kelly Anne Lane is about as straight an arrow as the Good Lord ever created. My little acts of stepping over the line were a great source of consternation to her. Truth be told, it nearly destroyed our relationship. Today, while not thrilled with these transgressions, Kelly appears to have accepted me, blemishes and all.
She asked, "Where's Connor?"
Last evening, upon our return, Connor repeated that he had a plan; that he would be gone for the better part of the day and to leave matters in his hands. My response was, "Whatever you say." He was off to bed and I haven't seen him since.
"What are you up to today, sweetheart? I'll be at the museum."
"Kill some time until I hear from my brother. Run up to New Hope."
Kelly rose, kissed me sweetly on the mouth and went off to shower. I loaded the Morgan, told the beast to hop in and took off. An hour and a half later I was parked in the courtyard of 96 E. Bridge Street in New Hope.
"What have you got today Picker?"
H & K Incorporated specializes in period garden accessories including urns, statues, fountains, fencing, and benches. Larry also carries fine Oriental rugs and antiques.
"I picked this up the other day." I pulled the 8' x 11'5" carpet from the car and laid it out on the ground. "Wiener Werkstatte," I said. "Probably Otto Prutcher. What do you think."
Larry walked around the carpet studying it with a trained eye. Turned it over to check out the back. "Nice. Very nice. How much?"
"I've got seventy-five in it. I'd be happy with... let's call it eleven five." Warning: Telling another dealer what you’ve paid is a definite no-no. In this instance, however, I wanted to communicate that I wasn't being a pig. What I wanted was a fair mark-up. Larry is one of those rare breed of antique dealer; he's honest.
"Sounds fair. I'll cut you a check." He went into the back door of his shop. I popped the trunk and pulled out a box of cigars. Went inside; he handed me a check for $11,500.00 and I passed him the cigars. "Hope you enjoy these."
Kato was waiting patiently when I returned to the car. The cell rang. "Where are you?" Connor.
"New Hope. You?"
"Center City. How long?"
"An hour-fifteen."
"The Ritz." He cut the connection. I cranked up the Plus 8, the lightest V8 passenger car on earth. Maximum power of 367 horse power from the BMW engine.
I let her rip.
Bases loaded
"Give it to me."
We're having lunch in the Bistro at the Ritz-Carlton.
Opened in the year 2000 in a turn of the century bank, the hotel features grand marble columns both on the exterior and in its spectacular lobby.
"I spent the morning buying the most expensive baseball cards at three local shops."
"What was the spend?"
"Sixty grand, give or take."
"Connor, are you crazy?"
Connor ignores my crack. "I assumed that when anybody farts in this business everyone knows about it. By the time I arrived at Burger's the grapevine had informed him that I was a mooch." A 'mooch' in our business is anyone that buys blindly and spends money like a drunk.
"I drop an additional twenty thousand with Leon on the cards from Mr. Bigfoot."
"And your strategy, exactly..."
"I hint that I'm in the market for high end stuff. That money is no object."
"Did he bite?"
"Are you kidding? He suggests that he may be able to lay his hands on something special. How high am I willing to go? I reiterate no limit. A large number will take less than a day to put together. Honestly Picker, you can practically see the dumb bastard drool. Le
on tells me to meet him back at the store at eight this evening."
"When the store’s closed."
"You got it."
"Perfect."
The hotel manager walked over and politely inquired about 'the dog' lying at my feet. Next, he politely informed me that any animal that is not a 'helper animal' is not permitted. Connor stood and guided the man into a quiet corner. He returned a few minutes later.
"No problem."
"Connor, what did you say to him?"
"You don't want to know." Maybe he was right.
We finish lunch; indulge in dessert and coffee. Connor headed to a local branch of an American bank that he deals with to put the money together. I head home to put the final touches on our plan for this evening.
I heading west on Route 76, the Schuylkill Expressway when my phone rings. TJ. I asked him to make a second stop at Hocus Pocus and pick up some additional equipment for tonight. We agree to rendezvous at my place to eat and outline the plan.
I stop at the Trader Joe's in the quaint town of Wayne. Pick up some pasta, sauce, a baguette and the makings of a salad. Standard bachelor fare. Head east on Lancaster Avenue back to my house.
Kato and I have the place to ourselves for the time being. I get to work preparing dinner. By the time everything is on the table Connor and TJ have showed up. Even Uncle Moe managed to make an appearance.
"Very simple gentlemen," I said as I twirled spaghetti onto the fork. "Connor, you're up first. Enter the Sport's Emporium through the front door alone."
“I’ll need a gun.” This is where Connor and I are different.
“No guns.”
“Whatever you say little brother. You’re the boss.”
After dinner we grab some coffee and light up our cigars. We spent the next hour going over the details and any contingencies we may encounter.
"You sure that you lads know what you're doing?" Uncle Moe making his contribution.
Connor attempts a steely glare at our Uncle, but you can still see the smile sneak onto his face. "Uncle Moe, we're not virgins."
"Aye, laddie. You must be remembering, though, that the best plans fall apart with the first encounter of the enemy."
We all laugh. The old man's right. "In that case Uncle Moe, perhaps you'd come along to give us a hand."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world boys."
I looked at Connor and TJ. Brave boys with big hearts. Putting themselves in danger to right a wrong not leveled at them. I took a deep breath, turned up the wattage on my smile and said,
"Let's saddle up."
Grand slam
Connor knocked.
The sign in the window said 'Closed'. However, the lights were on. Leon Burger turned the knob on the deadbolt; opened the door.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Connor smiled.
Meanwhile, behind the store, Uncle Moe whispered, "He's in."
This was not, strictly speaking, necessary. Earlier TJ had picked up three sets of 'Dr. X Outdone' from the magic shop. I imagine that most people have never heard of this product. Well, it's used by professional magicians and mentalists in their mind reading acts. This state of the art two-way communication consists of a powerful transmitter/receiver. The unit is a tiny ear plug radio which is nearly imperceptible. I'm sure that you've seen them used by spies and elite cops on television shows.
TJ had configured them to all work on the same frequency. In this manner, whenever one of us spoke, the other two would be able to hear. Anything that was transmitted within 200 feet that is.
Connor popped the suit case. Burger's eyes bulged at the million in cash. "You're turn. Show me yours." My brother was having entirely too much fun.
I stepped into the back room after picking the lock. "TJ, you and the pooch wait outside. Call the Calvary if you hear trouble."
“Who’s the Calvary?” he asked.
“You are.”
I heard Connor's voice in my head. "So, Mr. Burger, you have a 1909 Honus Wagner." Damn, I knew it! "Brilliant. It looks to be mint. How much money are we talking about?"
"Million five."
"Don't be ridiculous Mr. Burger. Sure, that's what it will bring at auction. But after commission and taxes you won't even clear a million bucks. I've got a million cash, tax free, right here. Do we have a deal?"
I stepped from the back room before he could answer.
"You again!" Quicker than you would think possible, Burger's hand jolts into the display case. And, equally fast comes out with a big ass gun. Pointed at me, I might add. "I should of have known. This is a set up. Well, you boys aren't going to steal from me."
"Don't be ridiculous Mr. Burger," echoing what my brother had said. "You can't sell something that doesn't belong to you."
"We'll see about that. Now tell me Mr. Picker, how did you get on to me?"
"No mister, just Picker." What am I, an idiot? This moron's pointing this huge revolver at me and I'm cracking wise.
"Com' on funny guy. Tell me."
"Sure, my pleasure. Here's what happened... Hari returns to his store with the floor safe. Hires a kid to crack it. Hari brings the box of cards to you. He sells you a handful, good cards, but not the best one. Not the Wagner. I figure he wants to max out, so he keeps it for himself."
"Yeah, so. How'd you tumble to me?"
"Simple Leon. You told me that it was stupid for a full grown man to wear a comic book t-shirt. You specifically referred to the Green Lantern shirt. But Hari wasn't wearing that when he came to see you. Hari didn't buy that shirt until he saw the movie, early that afternoon, after he saw you. The only way that you could've known about it was to see it when you murdered him and stole the card.
"Then you tracked down Chucky. You figured that his new about the 1909 Honus. That put a kink in your plans. So you killed him, too."
"Don't matter none Picker. There's no proof. No way this even goes to court."
This is where my brother decides to step in. "No need Mr. Burger. I have no intention of calling the constables."
Burger lifts his head ever so slightly. "Why's that?"
Connor snorts. "Because I'm going to take care of you myself." What is wrong with my brother?
"Yeah, we'll see about that. Move, both of you."
Burger herded us to the back room; up the staircase and onto the roof.
Picture this: The Sport's Emporium is in the middle of the block of continuous stores on South Broad Street. Therefore, all of the roofs are connected. The length from front to back is thirty feet. Width runs twenty feet. Located equidistant from the front and rear is the door to the roof. An alley runs behind the store. Empty buildings in the process of rehab back the stores fronting on Broad.
Burger positions Connor and me at the rear of the roof with our backs towards the alley. LB is standing very close to the edge of the roof with his back towards Broad Street. His right arm is extended straight out holding a Smith & Wesson Model 29.
"No more talk." Burger is so far away that I can hardly hear what he said. Doesn't matter. The gun in his hand could easily make the shot. Made famous by 'Dirty Harry', the Model 29 is a six shot revolver chambered for the .44 Magnum cartridge. This one had a barrel length of 10 5/8".
Now here's the thing: Lactic acid is building up and causing fatigue in Burger's right arm, even with arms like ham hocks. That gun weighs just over three pounds; and that's empty. He's moving that pistol from left to right, alternating between me and Connor.
I heard the monster's nails scratch the tar paper when he walked through the door to the roof.
Burger pointed that canon at my head. I wouldn't believe what happened next if I didn't witness it with my own eyes. Kato, who is a full twenty feet away, took a running start of two steps. I don't know if he's the bionic six million dollar dog or a mystic temple creature from the Far East.
But what I do know is that he defied the law of physics and launched himself nearly twenty feet through the air. By the time Leon changed the degree of h
is shooting arm Kato had struck him square in the chest with his massive front paws.
To this day I can still hear the screams of Leon Burger as he fell three stories from the roof to meet his earthly demise.
Connor lifted his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "C'est la vie."
"I was wrong brother. Sorry I didn't let you bring a gun."
