by Grey, Harry
“Yeh, that's what I mean. You're the guy who used to quote Lincoln and Tom Paine. You're the guy who gave me that quote 'God give me strength to face a fact and express it, though it slay me.' You remember? That's what I mean. You sold yourself like a whore.”
“You and your goddamn long-winded discussions,” he mumbled. “Always picking a goddamn argument.”
“I pick the arguments?” I asked.
“Yes, you always picked the arguments and made the long-winded discussions around here.”
“Well, I'll be goddamned.” I looked at him in disgust. I said, “Oh well, what the hell's the use. Give my love to Mama.”
He didn't answer. I gave him a warning look.
He said, “All right.”
I added, “Next time I come around if you start that crap, I'll throw you out the window.”
He didn't answer me. He just glared his defiance.
I went out. At Jake's place a stranger was tending bar. I had a few drinks to cool off. The place was crowded. Evidently the bartender knew who I was. He motioned to the back room. Max, Pat and Cockeye sat opposite Jake, Pipy and Goo-Goo. They were engrossed in a poker game. We exchanged greetings. I watched the game for a few hands. Max and Patsy wore the luminous glasses for practice. They looked like ordinary sunglasses.
CHAPTER 26
I supposed Maxie had already thought out his strategy for the casino job. Of course that was one of the reasons he had invited Jake, Pipy and Goo-Goo to accompany us on this second visit to the casino.
Finally, with a laugh, Maxie said, “Okay, break it up. Let's get started.”
Maxie asked Jake, Pip and Goo-Goo, “You guys got your hardware?” The three nodded.
With questioning glances at Maxie, they laid their rods on the table. Take produced two pieces: a Luger and a Police Special. Pipy took a .38 out of his back pocket. Goo-Goo had his .38 stuck into the front of his pants.
“How about these?”
Jake and Pipy each produced his collection of keys.
“No use looking for trouble,” Max said. “Throw them in the pile. That goes for us, too.”
We took our holsters off. I took out my knife and Maxie unhooked his sleeve gimmick. It made a sizeable pile on the table.
We put everything in the canvas bag Cockeye opened up.
“All right to put it under the chassis?” Cockeye asked.
“Not yet. Go over to the garage, get the Tommy, and then put the whole works under the chassis. We'll wait here for you.”
Cockeye picked up the bag and left.
We went to the bar and had a few rounds. Cockeye came back in twenty minutes.
“Did you attach the Tommy okay?”
“Don't worry, Max,” Cockeye replied. “The lead sprayer is on good.”
The seven of us piled into the big Caddy, which wasn't too uncomfortable. In a pinch we could accommodate nine.
Cockeye said, “This will give us plenty of weight for a smooth ride.”
That's what it was—a smooth, uneventful ride back to the resort.
We checked in at the hotel at about eleven p.m. Jake, Pip, and Goo-Goo were assigned a large room on our floor. We were all tired.
Max said, “Let's hit the hay. We get up at four a.m.”
We took showers and went to bed.
I quickly fell asleep. It seemed as if I had been asleep for many hours. I felt refreshed as I looked at my watch. It was four-ten a.m. I looked over at Maxie. He was lying perfectly relaxed, snoring as usual, with a peaceful expression on his face. I called to him. He sat up rubbing his head.
“How do you feel? Okay?” he asked.
“Yeh,” I said.
We had a whispered discussion. I suggested a plan of action. Maxie agreed to it. He started dressing. Then he went into the next room and slapped Patsy and Cockeye on the buttocks. He walked down the hall in his stockinged feet and woke Jake, Pip, and Goo-Goo.
It was four-thirty a.m. when we left the room one by one to meet in the garage. Cockeye crept underneath the car and took out the canvas bag, including the Tommy gun. Maxie distributed our equipment. He examined with interest Jake's and Pipy's keys.
“You want to learn the second-story trade, Max?”
Max smiled, “No thanks, Jake. Everybody to his own racket.”
We stopped at a diner for coffee and flapjacks. Maxie ordered a dozen hamburgers to go.
“Yeh, it's a good idea,” I said. “We'll be pretty hungry before the day is over.”
“Yep, you and me both,” he said significantly.
It was five a.m. when we stopped a block away from the casino. It was still brightly lit up. There were plenty of cars in the parking area. We waited. About five-thirty, cars began pulling out of the lot in bunches. Lights were being extinguished in the building one by one.
At five-forty-five, there wasn't a car on the lot. The building was in complete darkness. We left the car and walked quietly to the building. Max whispered, “Take your rods out. Jake, you take your shoes off and follow me.”
Max motioned for the rest of us to stay where we were. He and Jake crawled to the casino door. Five Roscoes were covering them. Jake went to work quietly with his master keys. It took him five minutes to unlock the door. Big Max motioned to us to come along. We walked noiselessly into the building, our Roscoes ready for action. We went over the entire building, up the attic and down the cellar. The building was deserted. We adjourned to the bar. Maxie served Mt. Vernon.
Jake went outside for his and Maxie's shoes. We stood around as Maxie began his curt instructions.
“Me and Noodles will be parked up in the attic. You guys go back to the hotel and rest up. Call Schwartz, the tailor, and get fitted out. Come back to this casino at eleven p.m. sharp. When you get here, Patsy, you concentrate your play on the roulette wheel. Start betting light. Then towards the end, make it heavy. Eleven-thirty on the dot, put all your money on one number.”
Patsy looked uncertain.
Maxie said, “On any number at all. You, Pip, get into the dice game. Cockeye will give you phony dice to operate with. Eleven-thirty you shoot for all. Here's five grand to play with.”
Pipy took the money and nodded confidently.
“You, Jake, and Goo-Goo, get into the poker game, do the best you can in there. Cockeye will supply the dough, and will explain how to use the glasses and the deck. Eleven-thirty, quit the game, win or lose. That goes for all of you. You, Cockeye, at eleven-forty have the Caddy at the door, just in case.”
Max gave Cockeye a look. Cockeye nodded.
“Now then, this is the important thing,” Max continued. “Eleven-forty on the dot all you guys, with the exception of Cockeye who stays at his wheel, walk into the cashier's office. Noodles and I are coming down the stairway from the attic at exactly eleven-forty. We don't know what kind of reception committee will be there to greet us. So you guys be on the ball. Understand?”
Maxie looked at our faces slowly and significantly. “Now, stay in the hotel until it's time for you to leave. Clean your rods; there may be fireworks.”
Maxie turned to Cockeye. “Get the bag of hamburgers out of the car and the lead sprayer.”
When Cockeye came back with his arms full, Maxie asked, “Are there any questions? Is everything understood?”
The men nodded.
“Okay. Get going. Jake, lock the door from the outside.”
The lock snapped shut as Jake turned the key on the other side of the door. We heard the car pull away.
Maxie picked up the bag of hamburgers and the Tommy gun with a grin. “We got a long wait. No use starving, eh, Noodles?”
“You and Napoleon,” I said.
“Napoleon?” he questioned. “What about Napoleon?”
I told him about Napoleon's logic.
“Yep, it's common sense,” Max said.
He walked up the stairway. I followed him. We took our jackets off in the attic, pulled a couple of chairs over to the small window overlooking the drivewa
y. We made ourselves comfortable.
Maxie picked up the conversation where he left off. “Like I said, Noodles, it's common sense. Now, take you and me. We got a long wait, twelve hours, maybe, or more. Napoleon was a smart guy. An army travels on its stomach. He was quite a guy, hey, Noodles?”
“Yeh,” I said.
Max tossed me a Corona. We both lit up. We smoked awhile. He continued: “Tell me about the guy; he lived a life of action, didn't he?”
I smiled, spit out of the window, and said, “Yeh, he did.”
For hours we discussed Napoleon. I quoted from a book I had read, told Max about his life, his military career, his loves. Maxie was very much interested in the episode where he cast his lot with the revolutionists and became a popular hero of the French people.
Then, I explained how all the acclaim went to his head. He tried to take over the world. We discussed his military campaigns, his mistake in trying to invade Russia.
“The trouble with that bastard was, he was too cocky,” Maxie said.
“Yeh,” I agreed. “He could have been a really great man and done a lot of good for his people. Instead he looked for personal glory.”
“The stinkin bastard wanted to become a world dictator.”
“Yell, there's always some bastard trying it. They always underestimate the little people.”
“You know Frank comes from the same place Napoleon did, doesn't he, Noodles?”
“Frank? Oh, you mean the Boss. No, Frank comes from Sicily. Napoleon came from Corsica.”
“You know, Frank is a pretty cocky guy.”
“Yeh, in a way. But I don't think he has a Napoleonic complex. He has respect for people. Underneath he has humility. How about some drinks, Max?” I said.
“O.K., we may as well stock up. You watch the road, Noodles.”
Maxie got up from the chair and went downstairs. I had a good observation point. I could watch the main highway, and see instantly if cars turned into the drive leading into the casino.
Presently, Max came back, his arms full of Hoffman ginger ale, Coca-Cola and a bottle of Mt. Vernon. We deposited the bottles in the room where the gimmick roulette wheel was painted on the floor.
“What, no ice?” I said.
“If the opening at the stairway was larger, I would accommodate you. I would bring that office refrigerator up here.” Max took an opener he had picked up at the bar and opened a couple of bottles of Coke.
We sat down by the window and sipped our drinks slowly. It was a dreary wait. We took turns walking around and lying on the floor, catnapping. The sun beating on the roof made the attic as hot as a Turkish bath. We stripped, one piece at a time, until all we had on were our shoes and shorts.
Maxie laughed at me. “You should see yourself in a mirror, Noodles.”
I was wearing my sling holster and gun. My knife I had stuck in my shorts. Sweat was running down my body.
“You aren't exactly dressed to receive polite company either, Maxie.” I grinned.
Besides the holster and gun attached to his sweating body, he had his gimmick .32 tied to his right arm. The Tommy gun lay on his lap. At twelve-thirty we had hamburgers and half a bottle of ginger ale. I added some whiskey to the ginger ale. It made a warm but palatable drink.
“How about getting some ice cubes from the refrigerator downstairs, Noodles?”
I went down to the office refrigerator, and pulled at the ice tray. It was one opaque solid block of ice. I looked around for something sharp to dislodge the tray, but I could find nothing. I tried my knife. Then I reasoned, the hell with it. I didn't want to dull my blade.
“What, no ice?” Max asked.
“The goddamn tray is frozen in a solid mass. I need an ice pick.”
“To hell with it,” Max grumbled.
After awhile we ran out of conversation. Time dragged as if we'd been up there for days.
Finally, at about 2 p.m., an old Ford pulled off the highway into the casino drive. We watched with interest as two colored men stepped out of the car. One of them produced keys. He fumbled at the door for a moment. Then they walked in. We watched their progress through the peepholes in the attic floor. They went to a closet and brought out pails, mops and brooms.
“Crap. They're only porters,” Max said in disgust.
“What the hell, at least it breaks the monotony.”
We watched them vacuum the rug. I never thought I'd be interested in watching such a monotonous job. At four o'clock, they finished their work. They put the cleaning equipment back in the closet and walked over to the dice table. They started to play for small stakes.
“How about joining them, Noodles?”
I looked at Max to see if he was serious. With him anything was possible.
They played until one of them lost all his money, three and a half bucks. It was six o'clock when they left. They locked the door behind them.
We ate some more hamburgers for supper and washed them down with our warm concoction of ginger ale and Mt. Vernon. The heat increased. The attic felt like an oven. We sat as close as we could to the little window, and sipped from our bottles. Even after the sun went down, the heat was stifling.
It was just about eight-thirty. We watched a Hudson and a Buick pull into the driveway. They discharged ten husky men in uniform at the door.
Max whispered tensely, “Guards.”
We watched them intently. Obviously, none had keys. They took up their stations outdoors.
Big Maxie flexed his muscles. He danced around shadow-boxing. He said in relief, “Soon we'll get a little action, maybe.”
At nine o'clock, two straight eight Chrysler Imperials shot up to the door. Five men with revolvers in their Sam Browne belts stepped out of each car. Two were carrying little valises, the kind doctors use.
“They're probably carrying the dough-re-mi,” Max whispered.
One of them unlocked the door. The ten men walked in. We watched them through the holes in the floor as they began getting the casino ready for the night's play. They put the valises in the cashier's office. The cashier deftly counted and distributed the money, according to denomination, to various drawers under the window.
“Hey, Maxie,” I whispered, “it looks like a hundred grand at least.”
He nodded. My palms were itching.
We heard cars pulling up the graveled driveway. I went to the window. Men in evening dress were walking into the building. I recognized them as the roulette croupier and the rest of the shills and attendants.
CHAPTER 27
It was ten p.m. I was looking down into the cashier's office. I called Maxie over. A tall, fat man was coming upstairs. He carried a flash-light.
I took my knife out and whispered to Max, “A noiseless slit across the throat?”
“No, Noodles. I'll handle the guy. I want to ask him a few questions.”
I saw something white in Maxie's hand. It was his shirt. The fat man came puffing up the stairs. Our eyes were accustomed to the dark; his weren't.
When he reached the top of the stairs, his flashlight went out. He bent over to tap it on the floor to get it to light again. Maxie grabbed him from behind, his left arm around the guy's neck. Maxie's right was busy stuffing the shirt into his mouth. The guy went limp. Max was supporting him. I looked closely at his face. His eyes were closed.
“He's out,” I whispered.
We carried him into the room and laid him down on the floor. I looked down to the floor below, into the cashier's office.
I whispered, “They didn't hear a thing, it's quiet down there.”
Max took the gag out of the man's mouth. I poured a little of the Mt. Vernon between his lips. I gently slapped his cheek. We put the light on his face. He was coming to. His eyelids fluttered.
He whispered hoarsely, “My pills.”
He fumbled in his vest pocket, and took out a small flat box. He put a pill on his tongue, motioned for a drink, and swallowed. He held his heart. His face was deathly white. Slowly, a l
ittle color came back into it. He gasped. He rubbed his heart.
“I got a bad condition,” he murmured feebly.
Maxie hissed into his ear, “You keep quiet, bastard. Do as we say or we finish you.”
He trembled. He looked at Big Maxie towering over him, then at me. I guess we looked like some hellish apparitions.
He almost passed out again. I slapped his face gently.
“Take it easy. Take it easy. Behave. We won't hurt you.”
I gave him another slug of our ginger-ale-whiskey mixture. He took a good drink.
Maxie asked, “How're you feeling?”
“A little better.” He sat up staring at us.
“What's your job?” Max prodded him. “What do you do up here?”
“I work that thing.” He pointed with an unsteady hand to the switches on the floor.
“Anybody come up during the night to help or relieve you?”
He just sat. I didn't know if the guy was awed into silence or was stalling for time. We couldn't take a chance. We were in a spot. I had to make sure he was frightened sick, so he would obey our slightest command. I pressed my knife to his heart.
“Get smart, bastard. Cooperate or I cut your heart out,” I hissed at him.
His trembling lips faltered. He moistened them. He swallowed. He said hoarsely, “I'll cooperate. What shall I do? Please don't hurt me.”
“Answer,” Maxie whispered. “Does anybody come up to help or relieve you?”
“Nobody, unless I press that button.” Trembling, he pointed to a button. It was a little off to the right of the painted wheel.
The first operation that goes wrong, you get croaked,” Max said in a fierce whisper.
“With this,” I said, pressing the point of the shiv to his jugular vein.
“I'll do just as you tell me,” he protested.
“Okay, no slip-ups,” Max told him.
I looked down a hole. People were beginning to come in. Card games were being organized. It was ten-thirty p.m. A well dressed party of four sauntered over to the roulette wheel and showed an interest in playing. In a short while more people walked over. The play was about to begin.
