ceiling. He was relieved that he had no qualms, no feeling of nerves.
He thought of all that money: $150,000! He mustn’t be too
successful with the one-arm bandits, he warned himself. He wanted
to retire from the scene in two years. He could wait that long, but no
longer. His first year would be good.
Maybe, he might even qualify for the one per cent deal, but the
following year, he would slow down, appearing to lose his grip, and
knowing Massino and Andy, they would look around for a younger
man. Then he could bow out as Bernie was now bowing out.
Melanie stirred and half sat up.
“You want coffee, honey?” she asked sleepily.
He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over her.
“There’s time.” His fingers caressed her breast and she sighed
happily.
Later, when they were having breakfast, Johnny said casually, “I’ll
see you tonight, baby. We’ll go to Luigi’s.”
Melanie, happily eating pancakes and syrup, nodded.
“Yes, Johnny.”
He paused, not quite sure how to tell her. Goddamn it! He
thought, this can’t be complicated. Tell her half the truth. She’ll buy
anything . . . just half the truth.
“Baby, I have a job to do tonight,” he said as he cut into his
pancake. “Are you listening?”
She looked up. The syrup was making a tiny trickle down her
chin.
“Yes.”
“This job is nothing to do with my boss and he wouldn’t want me
to do it. It means a little more money for me, but Massino mustn’t
know about it.” He paused and looked at her. She was listening. Her
black eyes were already showing signs of panic. She had always been
terrified of Massino and hated Johnny working for him. “There’s
39
nothing to worry about,” he went on, his voice soft and soothing.
“You know what an alibi means?”
She put down her knife and fork and nodded.
“I need an alibi, baby, and I want you to supply it. Nov listen,
tonight, we eat at Luigi’s, then we come here. I leave my car outside.
Around midnight, I’ll leave you for thirty minutes while I do this job. I
come back and if any questions are asked you say I didn’t leave you
once we got back after dinner. Get it?”
Melanie put her hands to her face and her elbows on the table. It
was a bad sign, Johnny told himself that she had now lost interest in
her food.
“What job?” she asked.
He too suddenly didn’t want anything more to eat. He pushed his
plate aside and lit a cigarette.
“That’s something you needn’t know, baby,” he said. “It’s a job.
All you have to tell anyone who might ask is that we spent the night
here together and I didn’t leave you for a second. Will you do that?”
She stared at him, her soft black eyes frightened. “Who will ask?”
“The chances are no one will ask, baby.” He forced a smile. “But
maybe the fuzz will ask . . . maybe Massino.”
She flinched.
“I don’t want trouble, Johnny. No . . . don’t ask me to do it.”
He pushed back his chair and stood up. He had half expected this
reaction, knowing Melanie as he did. He moved to the window and
looked down at the slow-moving traffic. He was sure of her. She
would do it, he told himself, but she needed to be persuaded.
He let a long silence build up, then turning, he came back to the
table and sat down.
“I’ve never asked you to do anything for me, have I? Not once.
I’ve done a lot for you. You have this apartment, the furniture, you
have lots of things I have given you, but never once have I asked you
to do anything for me . . . now, I’m asking. It’s important.”
She stared at him.
“I just have to say that you were here tonight and you didn’t
leave?”
“That’s it. You say after we had dinner at Luigi’s we came back
here and I didn’t leave here until eight o’clock in the morning. Get it?
I didn’t move from here from ten tonight until eight tomorrow.”
Melanie looked down at her cold pancake.
“Well, if it’s so important, I guess I could say that,” she said
doubtfully.
“That’s fine.” He wished he could convey to her how important it
was. “So, okay, you’ll do it?”
“I don’t like doing it, but I’ll do it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to control his
exasperation.
“Baby, this is serious. The fuzz could yell at you. You know how
the fuzz act. You must stick with this. Even if Massino bawls at you,
you must stick with this . . . Do you understand?”
“Must I do it, Johnny? I’d rather not.”
He fondled her hand, trying to instil confidence in her.
“You’ll be repaying a debt, baby. Don’t you want to help me?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes showing her fear,
then she put her other hand over his and gripped it hard.
“Okay, Johnny . . . I’ll do it.”
And he knew by the tone of her voice she would do it and he
relaxed.
He got to his feet and she came around the table to press herself
against him. His hand slid up under her nightdress and cupped her
heavy buttocks.
“I’ve got to get moving, baby,” he said. “See you tonight. Don’t
worry . . . it’s nothing, baby . . . just a little lie.”
Leaving her, he ran down the stairs and to where he had parked
his car. Ten minutes later, he was back in his apartment. He shaved
and showered. As he stood under the cold water, he wondered if
Melanie would have the guts to face Massino if things turned sour.
41
Maybe she would. He touched his St. Christopher medal. The trick
with this steal was not to let Massino nor the fuzz even suspect who
had taken the money.
He drove up to Massino’s office, arriving there a few minutes to
io.00. Toni Capello and Ernie Lassini were already there, propping up
a wall in the office, smoking. Sammy came up the stairs as Johnny
entered the office.
“Hi!” Johnny paused. “The big day. You got your uniform fixed?”
Sammy’s face was already glistening with sweat. There was a
grey tinge under the black of his skin. Johnny could see he was
scared to death and he knew Sammy’s panic would grow as the
collection went on.
“Mr. Andy’s fixing it,” Sammy said huskily and moved into the
office.
Toni and Ernie greeted them. The four men stood around for
some minutes, then Andy came from his office with two collection
bags. They were handcuffed together and there was a spare
handcuff which Andy snapped on Sammy’s wrist and which was
attached to one of the bags.
Toni said, “I wouldn’t have your job for a thousand bucks.” He
was grinning, seeing Shimmy’s fear. “Man! Could some guy take a
swing at your wrist with an axe!”
“Cut it out!” Johnny snapped, his voice dangerous. “No one’s
swinging no axes.”
There was a sudden silence as Massino came into the
office.
“All set?” Massino asked Andy.
“They’re on their way.”
“Well . . .” Massino grinned at Johnny. “So . . .” Johnny waited,
his face expressionless.
“Last round-up, huh?” Massino said. “You’re going to do fine
with the bandits, Johnny.” He looked at Sammy. “You’re going to do
fine as my chauffeur. Okay, get moving. The Big Take!” He went to
his desk and sat down.
As Toni and Ernie, followed by Sammy, moved to the door,
Massino said, “Johnny?”
Johnny paused.
“You got that goddamn medal on?” Massino was grinning.
“I’m never without it, Mr. Joe.”
Massino nodded.
“Watch it! You could need it on this trip.”
“We three will be watching it, Mr. Joe,” Johnny said quietly.
The four men left the office and walked down the stairs to
Johnny’s car.
Five hours later, it was over. There had been no trouble. The
police looked the other way when Johnny double parked, slowing the
flow of traffic. Money rolled into the bags. Sammy, expecting to hear
any second the bang of a gun and to feel a bullet smash into his body
was almost gibbering by the time Johnny pulled up outside Massino’s
office block.
Johnny touched him on his shoulder.
“Finished,” he said quietly. Now the Rolls.”
But Sammy still didn’t feel safe. He had to cross the sidewalk,
dragging the heavy bags before he finally reached the haven of
Massino’s office.
With Johnny at his side and Ernie and Toni, fanned out, their
hands gripping their gun butts, he got out of the car and into the
rain. He cringed at the crowd waiting around the entrance to the
office block to cheer the four men as they arrived.
Then the blessed dimness of the lobby and the ride up in the
elevator.
“How does it feel, boy, to be carrying all that dough?” Toni
asked.
Sammy looked at him, then away. He was thinking that
tomorrow he would be really safe, fitted with a grey uniform,
wearing a peaked cap with a black cockade and at the wheel of a
43
Corniche Rolls. After ten years of fear, he had come through without
being shot at and without having his hand chopped off and now he
was heading for pastures green.
With Johnny at his side, he shambled into Massino’s office and
set down the two heavy bags on Massino’s desk.
Andy was there, waiting. Massino was chewing a dead cigar. As
Andy unlocked the handcuff, Massino lifted his eyebrows at Johnny.
It was a silent question: “No trouble?” Johnny shook his head.
Then came the ritual while Andy counted the money. It took
some time. Finally, Andy looked at Massino and pursing his thin lips
said, “This is the tops, Mr. Joe: one hundred and eighty-six thousand.
Some take!”
Johnny felt a rush of hot blood down his spine. The jackpot! In a
few hours this enormous sum of money would be his! A thirty-
footer? He would now be able to make new plans. A forty-five-footer
now came into his mind.
He watched Andy tug the two bags into his office and after a
moment or so, he heard the old-fashioned safe door clang shut.
Massino took from his desk drawer a bottle of Johnny Walker.
Ernie produced glasses. Massino poured himself a generous shot,
then offered the bottle to Johnny.
“Go ahead,” Massino said. “You’re my boy, Johnny. Twenty
years! I wanted you to be in on the biggest take.” He leaned back,
grinning. “Now, you’ve got a career ahead of you.”
Ernie poured the rest of the drinks. Sammy refused. There was a
pause while the men toasted themselves, then the telephone bell
started up and Massino waved them away.
As Johnny and Sammy walked down the stairs, Sammy said, “It’s
been tough, Mr. Johnny and I’m sorry you and me won’t work
together no more. You’ve been good to me. You’ve helped me. I
want to say thanks.”
“Let’s go drink beer,” Johnny said and as he walked into the rain,
he felt the spray of the sea against his face and the lurch of a forty-
five-footer beneath his feet.
They drank beer in the dimness of Friday’s, bar. “I guess this is
good-bye, Sammy,” Johnny said as Sammy waved to the barman for
a second round. “You see . . . nothing ever happened all these years.
You were scared about nothing.”
“I guess.” Sammy shook his head. Mere are folk who always
worry and folk who don’t. You’re lucky, Mr. Johnny. You don’t ever
seem to worry.”
Johnny thought of the steal. Worry? No! After all be was over
forty: half way to death. Even if the steal turned sour, he could tell
himself when the crunch came that at least he had tried to achieve
an ambition. But the steal wasn’t going to turn sour. There would be
no crunch.
Out in the rain, the two men—one white, the other black—
looked at each other. There was an awkward pause, then Johnny
offered his hand.
“Well, so long, Sammy,” he said. “We’ll keep in touch.”
They gripped hands.
“Keep saving your money,” Johnny went on. “I’ll be around.
Anytime, anywhere if you want to yak . . . you know.”
Sammy’s eyes grew misty.
“I know, Mr. Johnny. I’m your friend . . . remember, Mr. Johnny.
I’m your friend.”
Johnny gave him a light punch on his chest, then walked away. As
he walked he felt a shutter was closing down, cutting off a slice of his
life. The clang of the shutter in his mind warned him that he was now
even more out on his own.
Driving slowly, he reached his apartment at 17.20, climbed the
stairs and let himself in. He felt in need of a drink, but he resisted it.
No alcohol. He had to be sharp for this job: no whisky to make him
feel reckless. He thought of the hours ahead: the dinner with
Melanie: the slow creeping minutes. He went to the window and
looked down on the narrow, traffic-congested street, then he
stripped off and took a shower, put on his best suit and then looked
at his watch. It was now 18.00. God! he thought, when waiting, how
time crawled!
He checked the things he would need: a weighted rubber cosh, a
45
folded newspaper, a pair of gloves, his cigarette lighter, the key to
the safe and the left-luggage locker key. All these he laid out on the
table. There was nothing else he needed except luck. He put his
fingers inside his shirt and touched the St. Christopher medal. In two
years’ time, he told himself, he would be at sea with the spokes of a
tiller in his hands, steering a forty-five-footer into the bay with the
sun on his face and the roar of powerful motors making the deck
tremble.
Sitting before the window, he listened to the noise of the street
floating up to him, the sound of the traffic and the kids yelling until
the hands of his watch crawled to 19.30. Then he got to his feet, slid
the cosh into his hip pocket, strapped on hi
s gun harness, checked
his .38, took the newspaper into the bathroom and dampened it
under the tap before putting it into his jacket pocket, put the two
keys and the gloves in another pocket and he was ready to go.
He drove to Melanie’s apartment, arriving there just on 20.00.
She was waiting in the doorway and got into the car as Johnny pulled
up.
“Hi, baby!” He tried to make his voice sound casual. “Everything
okay?”
“Yes.” Her tone was flat. He could see she was uneasy and he
hoped to God she hadn’t changed her mind.
The meal wasn’t a success although Johnny extravagantly
ordered lobster cocktails and turkey breasts done in hot chili sauce.
Neither of them did more than pick at the food. Johnny couldn’t help
thinking of the moment when he would have to tackle Benno. The
business of rushing the two heavy bags across to the Greyhound
station. He would have to leave the operation until after 02.00:
between 02.00 and 03.00. Everything depended on luck and putting
down his fork, he touched the St. Christopher medal through his
shirt.
“I wish you would tell me what you are going to do, Johnny,”
Melanie said suddenly. She pushed her turkey away, only half eaten.
“It worries me so. It’s nothing bad, is it?”
“A job. Forget it, baby. You don’t want to know anything about it
. . . it’s the best way. You want coffee?”
“No.”
“Let’s go to a movie. Come on, baby, snap out of it. It’s going to
be all right.”
Going to a movie was a good idea. It had grip and even Johnny
forgot what he was going to do in a few hour’s time. They returned
to Melanie’s apartment just after midnight and went up the stairs.
On the stairs, they ran into a girl who had an apartment opposite
Melanie’s. They paused to have a word. The girl knew Johnny and got
on well with Melanie.
“Out of cigarettes!” she said. “My luck!”
This chance meeting pleased Johnny. Just in case anything turned
sour, this girl could say he was with Melanie.
The girl went on down the stairs and Melanie and Johnny went
on up. Johnny had left his car parked outside the entrance and the
girl would see it.
“Want coffee?” Melanie asked, dropping her coat on the settee.
“A lot of it, baby.” Johnny sat down. “I don’t leave here for a
couple of hours. I’ve got to stay awake.”
Knock Knock Whos There Page 5
