by Behn, Noel;
“A friend,” Gus explained.
Stella smiled.
“I haven’t heard anything either,” Gus complained. “I think it’s time we should hear. After all, we haven’t heard anything for maybe ten days.”
“Oh,” Jazz said, nodding.
Stella nodded.
“You think he’s in good health?” asked Gus.
“Oh, if he wasn’t in good health, we woulda heard,” Jazz assured. “He’s okay.”
“If he’s okay, I think he should let us know. I can’t sit around this long. I’ve got other opportunities with other people.”
“Have you tried getting hold of his relative?” Jazz suggested.
“I called over at the Bucket of Blood,” Gus said, referring to Pino’s Egleston Square Diner, “but the phone’s disconnected.”
“Oh, they must have torn it off the wall again.” Jazz laughed.
Stella laughed.
“They’re always fighting over at that joint,” Jazz explained, “and ripping the phone out.”
“If Stretch is okay and he has nothing on, I have to take these other opportunities,” Gus declared.
“Well, you know how Stretch feels about other opportunities getting in the way of his opportunities.”
“Then he should let a person know one way or the other.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
Jazz winked at Stella as he left.
Stella blushed and lowered her head.
Maffie didn’t take Gusciora’s ultimatum all that seriously. He, like all crew members, was aware that Gus and his newest pal, Specs O’Keefe, had been pulling a string of petty stickups and keystering parked cars in the jewelry section of town. Jazz doubted that much could dissuade this activity, wasn’t particularly concerned despite the fact that the majority of holdup victims were bookies who ran crap games. Maffie knew that several game operators, particularly Tommy Callahan, had let out word that Gus and Specs lay off or else, but this didn’t bother him either. Gus could take care of himself on the worst of days. Nor was Jazz impressed with Pino’s constant ranting against Specs O’Keefe for corrupting Gus and making him into an ordinary street thief. He knew what everyone around town knew, that Tony Pino and Specs O’Keefe went back a long ways together, had begun robbing together when they were five or six years old, had grown disaffected, were constantly bad-mouthing each other. Nonetheless, Pino knew that O’Keefe was a pretty good thief, had even used him on the American Sugar job; he grew enraged when after the heist Specs went around town complaining about Tony’s getting a full share for doing nothing but turning the score over to him and the others.
Jazz wasn’t particularly anxious to hear from Pino, not if it was about Brink’s. He felt that the crew had pressed their luck in rifling company armored trucks and scoring customers. Smart money dictated forgetting the joint altogether.
“Come on,” he told his wife on returning to the table.
“Come on where?” she replied.
“To the basketball game.”
“What makes you think I want to see a basketball game?”
“You just said you wanted to see a basketball game.”
“Only when I’m invited.”
“Well, I’m inviting.”
“Because I asked you to. When the invitation’s your idea, I’ll go. Have a good time.”
Once at the Boston Garden, Maffie tried phoning Richardson. There was no answer at either Sandy’s home or the crap game. He dialed the diner. The number was temporarily out of service.
The new cook had gotten drunk and passed out. He’d done it before. This time he remained unconscious two full days, and that’s how the phone happened to get disconnected. Pino first took over in the kitchen, darted between the stove and pay phone on which he persistently called the Seamen’s Home urging them to send over another chef. The man who finally arrived was missing a right leg, and was already drunk on arrival. Nickels and dimes clicked down, yellow pages turned, and numbers were frantically dialed for the Salvation Army, Hibernian Home or anything that sounded like a repository for inexpensive labor. Even the most philanthropic or desperate of institutions didn’t respond favorably to the fifty-cents-an-hour offer. Mary refused to work in the kitchen under any circumstances. Jimmy Costa turned down an initial tendering of $1.10 an hour, remained indifferent over a thirty-six-hour period, saw the figure rise to $3.50, countered by demanding a guaranteed week’s emergency salary of $100 for a total of no more than two hours in one day. Pino threw a metal ladle at him. Costa, as a result, upped the base to $150 for the week—payable in advance.
Tony never would have paid this under any condition, except that he had closed the diner the second morning and gone over to Brink’s, had seen exactly what he wanted to see—early-arriving armored car crews entering the main-floor garage on Commercial Street and going toward two different routes upstairs: one in the back of the garage, one over to the right side along the Prince Street wall.
He had hurried back to the diner and called Costa. In desperation he agreed to Jimmy’s terms. Jimmy refused to come over until the cash was received, rejected the suggestion that the money be left with Joe McGinnis, compromised on Tony Gaeta, whom he trusted somewhat more. Pino ran the cash over to the Socony service station across the street, had Gaeta call Costa to say payment had been made, then hurried back to the diner. The phone was ringing. Tony answered. It was Costa. He wanted Tony to apologize for throwing the ladle at him. Tony swore and hollered and hung up. Ten minutes later he called Jimmy back. He apologized. Then he tore the phone from the wall.
The light went off in the fifth window, the vault room window. The entire back of the garage was dark. The time was 8.
“Okay, I’m sitting in that doorway on Prince. I keep my eyes on that door up near the corner—up near Commercial. That people door. Right after the light goes off I see these three fellas come out the door like they always do. I been around here a lot so I know that now. They come out and go around the corner [from Prince into Commercial Street].
“I get up and get going. I got nothing incriminating on me, see? No tools. No wallet. I left my wallet in the car. All I got are the car keys.
“Now I make the climb. Go up on Snowhill. I go up casual. I keep watching the windows for hacks or cleaning ladies. I haven’t seen any of their lights ever, and I been here maybe eight times already.
“Okay, I walk up the hill and down [on Hull]. I take the corner and walk right close to the building. I walk right past the garage door on Commercial. The door’s open, and I don’t see any fella sitting at the desk. I keep going to the corner [at Prince], then turn around and come right back. I see inside from another angle now. There’s no fella anywhere.
“Bang, I duck inside quick—inside the garage door. I get back in the shadows. I move around behind them newspaper trucks. It’s all shadows in there ’cause there’s only one little bulb up in the ceiling. I keep close to the wall [parallel to Commercial]. Now I turn and keep close to the other wall [parallel to Prince].
“Okay, I’m moving slow and easy. And I’m looking, too. Not for hacks ’cause they can’t see me back here. I’m looking out for oil ponds on the floor. You don’t wanna step in no oil or grease and leave a trail to where you’re going.
“Right away I’m near the doors—the pull-down garage door and the people door.
“I look over the door [people door]. I don’t see no wires. I put on my driver’s gloves and try her. She opens right onto Prince Street. Now I know for sure it’s the door down near the corner I just seen them three fellas come out of.
“Now what I do is set the lock, see what I mean? Fix her a little bit so she’ll stay open. Be ready in case I gotta come through her in a hurry. The reason I do this is the steps. The steps going upstairs is right there. I come down them steps fast, I don’t wanna go running around back through the garage. I wanna come out the faster way—through that door.
“Okay, the door gets fixed, and I’m all set.
I look over the steps going upstairs. Look for oil and grease, and it’s goddamn hard to see because it’s dark over here. I check the bottom of my shoes ’n’ make sure they didn’t pick up no oil or grease. Okay, I start up step by step and slow, so I don’t make a sound. One by one and easy. Now I’m out of view of anybody in the garage downstairs. Up ahead it’s darker and darker. My eyes adjust fast, though. After all, it ain’t the first time in my life I been up a dark staircase. Step by step and cautious I keep going.
“Now I’m up at the landing. I stop and look around in the dark. There’s a little bit of light coming from upstairs. From down the staircase that keeps going up to the next floor. But it’s ordinary street light from outside. It must be coming through some window high up. Nothing to worry about.
“Now I look in the other direction on the landing. I turn [with his back to Prince Street] and right ahead is like a little hall with two fire doors facing one another. Big metal slide doors. Okay, I stand there in the dark. I look over the fire door to my right. That’s the one facing the back of the building. It’s got tracks up on top and on the ground. That’s what it slides on, these tracks. It’s got little wheels on top and bottom that run along on these tracks. I look her over good again. I look for wires. Bugs. Electric eyes. I look for sneaky pictures [hidden cameras], too. I don’t see nothing, but that don’t mean it ain’t there. Brink’s ain’t moving from one place to another without a reason. Without making some improvement. I gotta figure every extra modern precaution’s been installed. All that Buck Rogers stuff that’s getting fashionable.
“I keep looking her over. Kneeling down and standing on tiptoe. I don’t find nothing. So I give the slide door a little jiggle. A back-and-forth jiggle, not a sideways jiggle. It jiggles a little, but nothing happens. If they got bugs on it, they ain’t for back-and-forth jiggles, but I don’t expect that anyway.
“Okay, I go for the test. It’s the moment of crisis. There ain’t no way of avoiding it. I gotta find out. I get all prepared. Suck in. Bang, I slide the door open and slide it right back shut and tear the hell outta there. Run down them steps and out the door and up Prince Street. I’m outta there like I’m in the Olympics. I get way the hell up the block and sit down in a doorway. I’m bushed, and my heart’s doing a hard pound. Jumping right through my jacket. I’m sitting, watching to see what goes off. What alarms ring. Who comes running. What lights go on upstairs. I’m far enough up [Prince Street] that if people come running, I can vanish without no trouble.
“So I’m sitting and waiting. Nothing goes off. No alarm I can hear. No lights go on in any of the windows. I stay sitting. Maybe a sneak alarm went off right in the police station or some private joint [agency]. No one comes. No one drives up and rushes inside. Nothing happens for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.
“So I get up and go back a second time. Go in through that Prince Street door. I fixed the lock on that door before, so I go right through it and right up them steps. I go up to the fire door. The slide door I just tried. Real, real easy I slide it open an inch or so. I peek in, and there’s nothing but black. Easy now, real easy, I slide her open more. I step through—and what the hell ya think is facing me? Another fire door. I’m in a tiny hall between them two slide doors.
“So now I gotta check it out like I done the other. It’s got wheels on the top and bottom, too. I don’t see no wires or nothing. I give it a jiggle. When it jiggles, it squeaks. The first door squeaked, too, when I rolled it open more. But this one squeaks on the jiggle, not the slide. I haven’t done no sliding yet, but I know from what I’ve done it ain’t locked. Now I get ready. And I probably take more time getting up courage. This second door can explain why nothing’s attached to the first door. I mean, if you got two doors, which one ya gonna put the bug on? The second, that’s which one. In all my experience, I never come across more than two fire doors in a row. I come across two before, but never three. So if this second door leads anywhere, it’s got the best chance of having the bug.
“Okay, I get all prepared again. I get up to that door. Bang, quick slide it open and back shut. Fast. I jump back out and slide the first door shut, and pfft, I’m down them stairs and out the door I fixed. Only I unfix it on the run. By run, I don’t mean a real run like a relay race. I mean moving as fast as you can without drawing attention. It’s a helluva strenuous thing.
“I’m outta there and up on Prince Street like a flash—slow flash. I sit down in the doorway. I’m panting bad. I’m watching, too. No alarms go off. No lights go on. No cars come racing up with cops or security people. I’m exhausted from all the running up and down. My energy supplies are empty from all the fright. I get the hell outta there.
“I go home to sleep. Only I can’t sleep. I keep trying to figure it out. If nothing went off, if no lights went on, then those slide doors weren’t hooked, bugged. That means they probably don’t go nowhere near Brink’s office. That’s what I think on the one hand. On the other hand, there’s just so much space on that second floor. Brink’s is up there somewhere, I know, ’cause I looked into their counting room. I saw her vault with my own eyes. It’s gotta be up there someplace.”
Twenty minutes after being repaired, the phone behind the counter rang.
“Diner,” Costa announced on picking up.
“Jimmy?” Geagan’s unmistakable voice asked.
“Yeah.”
“You call?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s on?”
“Stretch wanted you to know he found that missing friend.”
“Me and the redhead will be over.”
“Come if you want, but it won’t do no good. I don’t know much, and he’s gone.”
“You say he found him?”
“Right next door to where I grew up.”
“What else?”
“He says it looks like a miracle.”
“He visited him face to face?” Mike asked.
“I think he’s got that on his mind for tonight.”
“If he hasn’t been in, why all the talk about a miracle?”
“Hey, I only know what I know.”
“What the hell do you know?”
“He’s been running in and out like a crazy animal. Busy as hell. He’s supposed to cook, see? The cook keeps getting drunk. The Salvation Army keeps sending over more and more drunks, so he’s gotta give me guaranteed wages in advance and then—”
“Never mind about the goddamn cook and wages,” Geagan interjected. “What’s going on?”
“I’m telling what I know and how I know it. We get this other cook yesterday and Tony—”
“Did he tell you he was going inside?”
“He didn’t say nothing!” Costa shouted back.
“Then how did you get the idea?”
“Because he swiped a bag. Boosts a goddamn paper bag from his own goddamn restaurant!”
Two men in overcoats emerged from the Prince Street door, stood chatting in the darkness, then walked the few yards to Commercial Street and disappeared around the corner. Fifteen minutes later Pino was fixing the lock of the door through which the pair had just departed—from the inside. He crept up the staircase, on the lookout for grease or oil, did the same on the landing, put on his gloves, carefully inspected the fire door to his right and eased it open. The rollers on the track below squeaked.
“Okay, now all I got in front of me is that second fire door,” Tony relates. “The one that squeaks more than the first one. I look her over again. She’s okay, too. So I take hold of her and easy, real easy now, I slide her a little. Open her an inch. I peek through. It’s dark as hell in there. Merciless dark.
“I wait, and it’s hard to adjust ’cause it’s so dark. Okay, now I get ready. I take hold of her again, and bang, I slide her open and duck right through and give a dive. I dive through the air, and I hit and scramble right under a truck there. I’m laying as flat as I can under her. I let my eyes adjust, but I can’t see nothing from under here.
“
Okay, I slide back out and sit behind her. I’m panting like a mad dog. My eyes get adjusted. I see a little bit. I’m sitting against the wall. I’m staring at the ass of the truck I was under. Parked right there next to her is another truck. An armored job. A Brink’s job. I’m in their garage or a garage that’s got two of her trucks. The truck I’m sitting behind’s a Brink’s, too.
“I don’t move from a sitting position except to take out the paper bag. It’s one of them twenty-pound brown paper bags you use for grocery shopping. I take it out of my back pocket and sit right back down on the concrete floor. I start unfolding the bag real slow. Layer by layer and slow. More than slow because paper makes noise when it gets unfolded. I can’t make no sound. So one layer gets unfolded slow. Then I stop. Then I unfold another slow.… I’m trying to give you a sense of time passing.
“Okay. I got it all unfolded. I reach inside and open the bag up. Then I put it over my head. I feel where my eyes are and poke two holes. Holes to see through. Now I got a mask.
“Why I need a mask on this operation is because of sneaky pictures [hidden cameras]. They can have sneaky pictures hidden all over the place. Ultrareds and all that.
“Now I got my mask on. Only I punched the holes too close. I’m looking out kinda cross-eyed. Now I crawl around the truck on my hands and knees. That ain’t as easy as you think because you gotta keep your head straight up. Drop your head, and the paper bag falls off. You try crawling with your head straight up, looking out cross-eyed?
“I crawl around to the front of the truck, and now I get up a little more. Get up into a crouch. It’s goddamn dark, but I can see pillars. Concrete pillars that hold the roof up. They’re all over the place. Over at my left is the slide door I come through. Then there’s a little bit of wall and then a garage door. It’s closed. Then more wall and then another Brink’s truck. From what I see, Brink’s trucks is parked along the wall right across from where I’m crouched. I get up more and looked over at my right. It’s too dark to see much except them pillars.
“So I take first things first. I get down low again and crawl over to the first slide door. It’s still open. I crawl through and open the second slide door a crack. I put in one of the wood blocks, the slanted blocks. I put it at the bottom and slide the door closed. Now it’s wedged up a tiny bit, so I can get out in a hurry. I do the same thing to the second slide door. I wedge it, too. I crawl back to the front of the truck.
