Rocks Beat Paper

by Mike Knowles

  “Is he right? Are we paying in cash or in work?”

  Jake leaned back in his chair. His button-down shirt lifted and revealed white skin decorated with hair and stretch marks. “He has a job he needs done, alright? He’ll tell you more when he shows up in an hour.”

  “If I can talk again,” Miles said, “can I drink, too?”

  “Get out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jake had reserved a table for us in the far corner of the lower level of the bar. Miles had wanted to play some games, but I wasn’t interested, so he drank instead. Starting the tab back at zero was clearly a challenge to the con man, and he was teaming up with vodka to meet it. As I watched Miles put down vodka after vodka, I wondered what other bad habits Miles was working to keep in check.

  “The bill you ran up was hefty.”

  Miles shrugged. The handsome con man managed to make the gesture graceful. “What can I say, I hate drinking alone.”

  I felt eyes on me and immediately knew that the women around us were looking at Miles. “How much of that four G’s was you and how much was hating to drink alone?”

  Miles put down his glass on the table. “What are you getting at?”

  I pointed at the glass. “How much are you drinking these days?”

  “You worried about me?”

  “When you’re on the job I am.”

  “That’s touching. It’s just the kind of sentiment I’d expect from a man who shot an unarmed man in the chest.”

  I didn’t flinch at the words. The loud din of the bar made everything Miles said unrecognizable to anyone who wasn’t sitting on the other side of the table.

  “But vodka isn’t what you’re really asking about, is it?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Come right out and say it then, Wilson.”

  “Is it just the booze?”

  “If you mean coke, I haven’t used since Buffalo. Alright?”

  I first connected with Miles on a job out of Buffalo. We were part of a crew out to steal a nineteenth century violin. Miles had kept his drug addiction quiet and it had almost cost him his life. His wits had kept him alive, and when it all hit the fan he saved my life, and the job. I jutted my chin towards the empty glass. “The booze?”

  “What about it?”

  “You haven’t used since Buffalo, but you’re drinking more.”

  “Am I? You sure about that because you know me so well?”

  I said nothing.

  Miles sighed. “The drinking is not a big deal. I can stop whenever I want to. Look —”

  Miles picked up his glass off the table and held it out to me; I didn’t take it.

  “Take it.”

  When I didn’t reach for it, he turned the glass and slammed it down on the table. A waiter within earshot turned his head towards us. “Hey, you can’t slam your glass down on the table like that in here — oh, hey, Miles.”

  Miles smiled at the waiter. “Hey, Devon.”

  Devon looked like an action figure that had just been removed from the package. “You know that the boss said your tab is done, right?”

  “I heard,” Miles said. “But I talked to him, and we’re cool now.”

  The waiter smiled wide. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Check if you don’t believe me.”

  The waiter put two elbows on the table and leaned into the space between us. “I have to, Miles. You know how it is. But if you’re on the level,” Devon gestured with a tilt of his head to another table, “there are some girls over there who are a lot of fun. Maybe you should think about sending them something to, y’know, get the ball rolling?”

  Miles looked at me. The look wasn’t for permission; it was the kind of look that said, told you so. When he felt he had made his point, he looked at the waiter and said, “Not tonight, Devon. My friend and I are meeting an old buddy.”

  The waiter’s smile stayed on his face, but the mischievous fire lighting it went out. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  The disappointed waiter walked away, and Miles loaded a clever remark into the chamber. I lifted my palm and stopped him before he unloaded it on me. Whatever he wanted to say would have to wait because I saw a man coming down the stairs. He was in his late-fifties and balding. The hair loss created a shiny runway down the centre of his head. But it wasn’t the man’s age or receding hairline that drew looks from the much younger crowd, it was his height — his lack of height, really — that got him all of the attention.

  I watched the man’s stunted legs nimbly get him from the bottom of the stairs to our corner table. He stopped in front of us and looked from me to Miles and then back to me.

  “Which one of you is Moriarty?”

  Miles snorted.

  “You?”

  Miles shook his head.

  “That makes you Ripley.”

  “I guess it does,” Miles said.

  The short man held out a fat hand and Miles took it. “Donny.”

  After he shook my hand, Donny looked the room over and said, “When Jake told me the meeting was here, I thought he was kidding. You mind if I sit down?”

  “We’re just getting up.”

  “You kidding me? I just got here. Wait, did I do something wrong?”

  “This isn’t the place for a meeting,” I said.

  Donny looked at the two of us. “Jake never said anything about me going anywhere with you guys.”

  “Relax,” I said. “We’re just going over there.”

  Donny followed my nod and looked over his shoulder.

  “You serious?”

  Miles nodded. “If you’re still worried, you can ask the waitress to keep an eye on you while we cross the room.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “I haven’t played this since I was ten,” Donny said. “I can’t even remember if I’m holding these things right.”

  The dartboard was a forgotten relic in the corner of the Funporium. Not a single person had glanced at it while Miles and I had been in the bar. Everyone was more interested in carnival games with flashing lights and tickets. There were also no tables around it, either. No one was stupid enough to sit customers next to people throwing sharp objects.

  “You are,” I said. “Now throw them.”

  “Can’t we just sit down and talk?”

  “Look around,” I said. “You see three guys having a quiet conversation anywhere in here?” I didn’t wait for Donny to look and confirm what I said. “We blend in by blending in. Now, throw.”

  Donny put three darts into the board. The hits were all random and the points low. When he came back with his darts, he asked, “We keeping score?”

  “No, Donny,” Miles said. “We’re planning a score.”

  “So you guys can, y’know, help me?”

  “Depends on what you need help with,” I said.

  Donny looked around the room. When he saw that no one gave one shit about what we were saying, he said, “I need you to rob my store.”

  “We can do that. Did Jake tell you what we need?”

  The little man nodded. “Sure. You’re after uncut stones. I have some of those in my safe, but you’ll need to take more than that. You need to clean me out.”

  I threw three darts and retrieved them. When I got back to the line, Donny said, “It can’t look like an inside job. It can’t. Alright?”

  “We get that,” Miles said. “Now throw your darts while you tell us about the place.”

  Donny looked at his hand. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

  We kept the darts moving while Donny gave us a detailed rundown of the store and its day-to-day operations.

  “You gotta do it when I’m not around. I can’t be anywhere near this. Do you understand?”

  Miles and I nodded, but it was purely for show. There was no way we were going to let
anyone else call the shots.

  “Why are you so worried about getting fingered as the inside man?” Miles asked. “You dirty, Donny?”

  Donny thought this was funny. “I’m here playing darts and arranging for two men to rob me. I’d say it’s pretty evident that I’m dirty.”

  Miles chuckled. “You always been dirty, Donny?”

  Donny looked at his scuffed leather shoes. “The business ain’t what it used to be. In the eighties, I had the touch. These hands,” he held up ten stubby fingers, “could craft art. People lined up for it.”

  “What happened?”

  Donny shrugged. “I got cocky and set out on my own. I was doing well for a while, but I made some bad decisions and some worse enemies. You wouldn’t think selling rings and bracelets would be a tough line of work, but there are some serious people doing this. I’m talking really bad guys. So anyway, things started going wrong at work, then at home. The wife walked out on me years back. I fought her tooth and nail for the business. I gave her way too much to keep it — way too much. I thought it was worth it at the time. Sure, the house and cars were money, but the business was a printing press. At least, that’s what I’d thought.”

  “Things didn’t work out?” Miles asked.

  “I’m here, aren’t I? I made some bad moves. I thought I could dig myself out, but I was wrong. I got in over my head with some people, and now I just want to get out. But I can’t just walk away. I’m in the red everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I’m so stressed I’m shitting blood. Ulcers, y’know? So when I say I’m in the red, I really mean it.”

  “Yuck,” Miles said.

  Donny walked to the board and pulled the darts. “I’ve been telling people that I’m planning a comeback. I was going to launch a new line of original pieces that were going to put me back on the map. Except —”

  “You’re cashing out and not coming back,” I said.

  He pointed at me with one of the darts. “You got it. I’ve got plenty I can move when everything cools off. I’ve been buying a lot of uncut stones. Nothing fancy, but that’s how I want it.”

  “Rocks beat paper,” I said.

  Donny smiled at me. He was happy someone understood him. “Every damn time. The stones are lower quality, so they won’t set off anyone’s radar.”

  “Like moving smaller denominations instead of hundreds,” I said.

  Donny winked at me. “You got it. It’ll take a bit more time to move them, but if you know people, you can get a fair price. You’ll get a fair price, too. You clean the place out and a cut of those stones goes to you. The rest comes back to me through Jake.”

  “Plus the insurance money,” Miles said.

  He jabbed the dart towards Miles. “That’s right, kid. But don’t get greedy. I’m giving you an easy score. I don’t owe you a piece of the insurance for that.”

  I wasn’t interested in hearing about cashing in on the insurance; I was more interested in something else Donny said. “You need to move those stones when the cops aren’t looking at you anymore. Do you have a fence lined up?”

  Donny tilted his head. “Why?”

  “We’re looking for a fence. Someone who can move some serious items.”

  Donny laughed as though he had heard a really good joke. He put an elbow on the table and leaned against it casually. The unsure, uncomfortable jeweller who was in over his head was gone; in his place was someone much more calculating. “And you want me to connect you with my guy? Why the hell would I do something like that?”

  “The same reason you’re here right now. There’s money in it.”

  Donny used the tip of a dart to clean a fingernail. “I’m not just going to give you a name. My guy wouldn’t talk to you. He doesn’t like doing dark business in the company of strangers. Remember those uncut stones I told you I’ve been buying up? My guy got me into that. He’s been doing that for years, except he doesn’t use his stones to make earrings; he uses them to help thick-necked Russians quietly move their drug money overseas under the noses of any government agencies looking to put an end to organized crime. See, my guy is a major player, and that means any deal with him will need to be brokered by me. And if I’m brokering the deal, then I get a percentage.”

  I stared at Donny and he returned the look with no sign of being intimidated. He had spent a lifetime in the diamond trade; he was a pro at making deals with hard men who were interested in pretty things.

  “Your percentage comes out of the fence’s cut, not ours.”

  Donny smiled and turned towards the dartboard. “I am sure it’s something that can be negotiated.”

  “That’s something that can happen after our business is finished. What time do you leave work tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” Donny’s dart missed the board. “You want to do it that quickly?”

  I nodded. “You leave at?”

  “Five,” he said.

  “And the store closes at?”

  “Nine.”

  “So we have a four-hour window. We’ll hit the store around six. Who has the combination to the safe?”

  “Tristan is the assistant manager. He knows the combination.”

  “I’ll take him to the back room to open the safe. Ripley will work the floor and get everything on display. How many employees out front?”

  “Tomorrow there will be two, but if business is slow I can send one of them home.”

  “You do that often?” Miles asked.

  “From time to time.”

  “This time, don’t. Anything out of the ordinary will put a spotlight on you, and you don’t want that.”

  “No,” Donny agreed. “I don’t. That can’t happen.”

  We played another couple games and picked the jeweller’s brain. I brought up the fence again, but Donny wouldn’t budge on the name. He insisted on being the intermediary to secure his cut. We sent Donny home when we ran out of questions. Miles and I stayed behind and found a pool table with a rare vacancy. We played a slow game of eight ball and drank on Jake’s tab. Miles chose off the top shelf; I had coffee.

  “You serious about using his fence?”

  I lined up a shot and rammed the cue ball hard into a solid blue ball and watched it roll into the pocket. “Depends on Donny.”

  “You think that little shit will get us an honest deal?”

  “I think it can be arranged.”

  “You have a plan don’t you?”

  I nodded and used the rail to sink another ball into a pocket on the other side of the table. “We can worry about Donny after we get our stones.”

  “We bringing in Monica on this?” Miles asked. He did a pretty good job of hiding his interest.

  “Get in touch with her and tell her to be ready for four.”

  “Four? Donny said he didn’t walk out until five.”

  I grinned and sank another ball.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  At 4:44, Monica pulled to a stop in front of a fire hydrant down the street from Donny’s Diamonds. She lifted her arm and pulled up her sleeve so that we could both see the old Timex Ironman watch on her wrist. “Seven minutes,” she said. “After that, you’re on your own.”

  “Some getaway driver,” Miles said.

  Monica turned around in her seat to look at Miles. “You’re goddamn right I’m some getaway driver. You know why? ’Cause I get away. You want to get away, too? Get out here in seven minutes or less.”

  Miles opened his mouth, but Monica shut it for him. “Don’t give me some smart remark, Miles. I do what I have to do. Always. No compromise.”

  I lifted my sleeve and entered seven minutes on my watch. “Seven minutes is fine.”

  I opened the door and the sound of traffic poured into the car. I got out and waited for Miles to meet up with me on the sidewalk. We were in front of an out-of-business dry cleaner two storef
ronts away from Donny’s Diamonds. Donny’s store was nowhere near Mendelson’s. The cab fare to get to the diamond district would likely get me one of Donny’s higher-end pieces.

  “What the hell was that?” he said.

  I looked at the con man. “The hell was you, Miles. You expected our wheelman to be soft. Why? Because she’s not a wheelman? She wouldn’t be here if any part of her was soft.”

  “I think that might be why I like her so much.”

  I put a wool cap on my head and looked up and down the street; no one was giving either of us the time of day.

  Miles moved beside me and chuckled while he put on his hat. He spoke under his breath while he did his own scan of the street. “We’re robbing a jewellery store so that we can rob a jewellery store.” He shook his head. “Nope, out loud it sounds just as crazy.”

  “David was more than just an inside man — he was our fence. That car accident killed our way in and our cash out. Donny gives us a second chance at both. With him we can get inside, and, more importantly, we can move the diamonds on the outside. We need him, and if robbing him gets him on board, then we stick him up.”

  Miles sighed and weighed my words. He looked at the scale; what came up made him shake his head in disapproval. “I don’t care if both of you think rocks beat paper. This still seems crazy.”

  I checked the street one more time and then pulled down the cap. The hat doubled as a generic ski mask that mirrored dozens sold around the city. I looked at Miles and saw his eyes looking back at me from two holes in his mask.

  We kept our heads down as we walked past the variety store next to the jewellery store. At the door to Donny’s Diamonds, I drew my pistol and entered the store with Miles at my heels. I went in with my gun in a two-handed grip. Two women screamed when they saw me and again when they saw Miles coming right at them. Miles corralled the two women into a corner while I moved towards the back rooms. I opened the door and went through it with my gun up. A woman stood on the other side of the door with a cup of coffee in her hand. One look at the gun and the mask sent a tremor up her arm and into the cup; it slipped from her grip and fell to the floor.