I nodded and began to shuffle the cards. “Then let me enlighten you on the subject. Some scientists think it’s our use of language. Religious people believe that we have souls and animals don’t. Philosophers claim that we are aware of the nature of death while horses and cats and so forth aren’t, and that this knowledge colors all our actions. Personally, I’m convinced that the main distinction is that we humans have a sense of privacy about our sexual lives that’s lacking in animals. We copulate behind closed doors while monkeys and dogs and chickens go at it anytime and anyplace the urge hits, regardless of who or what is watching. And I imagine that if they could talk, they would discuss it with the same lack of discretion and taste.”
He said nothing more on the subject that evening, but his face reddened, and I could tell that my comments had stung him hard. He reddened even more a few minutes later when I dealt myself a third ten showing against his pair of queens, and it was several hours before he tried to needle me again.
The cards were cold that night. Finally along about midnight he and I went head-on in a hand of seven-card stud in which I lost seventeen hundred dollars. It wasn’t a plunge. I played the odds the same way any good player would have played them, and simply lost the hand to better cards. But it made Robillard voluble and a little curious. “I believe you talk less than any man I ever played with,” he remarked.
“The less you say, the less you give away,” I told him with an easy smile.
He laughed an honest laugh. “I can’t argue with you there, but I like to have fun, and talking is part of the fun to me.”
Needling and humiliating people is part of the fun to you, I thought, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I took the cards and passed the deal to my left. “Oh, I have plenty of fun at the table,” I said. “It just doesn’t take a lot of talk to give it to me.”
On the next hand Zip Zimmerman drew one of his freak combinations, but ran everybody out by betting too aggressively. The game took a break and the other players rose from their seats, leaving Robillard and me at the table.
“Have you always been a professional gambler?” he asked.
“I’ve never really been a full-time pro, Mr. Robillard. But I understand what you mean, and the answer is no.”
“What else have you done?”
“Well, after college and law school I put in four years in the navy, then in the late ’30s I worked for the State Department for a while.”
“Really?” he asked with interest. “What did you do at State?”
“My title was assistant to the attaché for cultural affairs, but the truth is that I was little more than a glorified translator at our embassy in Berlin.”
“Germany?” he asked with surprise. “You served in Germany?”
I nodded and gave him a cryptic smile.
“And you speak the German language?”
“Oh yes. Fluently. As a matter of fact I accompanied Ambassador Wilson to the famous dinner party where Hermann Göring gave Charles Lindbergh that medal. It was called the Service Cross of the German Eagle. Pompous-sounding thing, wasn’t it? And later on I played poker with Göring.”
He couldn’t keep himself from asking the next question. No one ever can who hears the story. “Was he any good?”
“Terrible,” I said with a laugh. “But he thought he was an absolute master at the game. You see, he never played with anybody but his own subalterns, and they always let him win. I imagine they were afraid not to, but I wasn’t afraid, and I trimmed him good. I must admit that he lost with good grace, though he jokingly accused me of being a Jew because I played so carefully. You see, it was part of the Nazi race theory that each race would play cards a certain way, and play the violin in a certain fashion, and I suppose even fornicate in some racially determined manner. And Göring believed it to the hilt. Or at least he claimed to. Utter nonsense, of course. A Jewish friend of mine in the navy was such a reckless player that he made Zimmerman look like the soul of prudence.”
“Are you?” he asked.
“What? Jewish? Hardly. Scots-Irish and Cajun in equal proportions.”
He liked that. Now he could start needling me with the coon-ass jokes. But I didn’t care. I intended to have the last laugh. I’d planted a little seed with my story about Göring, and the next time we met I intended to tell him about my meeting with the Butcher of Prague.
* * *
I broke off and went to bed at 4:00 A.M., then slept until noon, and then went down to the restaurant for lunch. I had just returned to the suite when the porter told me that Della had called while I was out. I dialed our number and got her on the third ring.
“Why don’t you tear yourself away early tonight?” she asked.
“Sure. Something special?”
“I’m always something special, you dunce,” she said with a velvety laugh. “Be in front of the hotel at exactly nine this evening.” I heard the soft click of the connection being broken as she gently placed the receiver back on the cradle.
The game went on through that afternoon without heating up. I managed to slowly recoup my losses from Friday night, and by six that evening I was even a few hundred dollars ahead. I’d bluffed Simon Van Horn out of a good pot with a pair of nines showing and nothing in the hole, and a short time later I had the satisfaction of plunging heavily and seeing Robillard fold a hand that he should have stayed with. The odds had been in his favor, even if the cards weren’t, before he lost his nerve and flipped his cards over after looking at his stake with a little frown of concern. I knew then that my information had been correct, and that he was in a cash bind despite his millions.
A little before nine I pocketed my winnings and said good-bye. I was waiting at the curb when Della pulled up in front of the Weilbach in the Lincoln. The top was down and she was wearing her mink.
“So you found it,” I said as I climbed into the car. “I intended to surprise you.”
“I knew you did, but I thought I would just turn the tables and surprise you instead.”
“Isn’t it a little hot tonight to be wearing a fur coat?”
“Not if you don’t have anything on under it,” she said perkily.
“I don’t believe you,” I told her with a grin.
By then we were only a block from the hotel and Saturday night traffic was fairly heavy. She reached down and undid two buttons, then flipped the coat open. There she sat at the wheel of that big car, wearing nothing but a pair of kidskin pumps, her cute little rimless glasses and the mink.
* * *
Much later that evening we sat in the kitchen finishing off a midnight supper of lamb chops, scalloped potatoes and Champagne. Della was in her black silk robe and I wore a pair of ragged old pajamas.
“And now dessert,” she said, and rose from the table to retrieve a bowl of sugared strawberries and a canister of whipped cream from the refrigerator. A home-baked pound cake emerged from the cabinet, and a moment later she was building me a strawberry shortcake. Meanwhile, I opened a second bottle of Champagne and filled both our glasses.
“I’m tired of going to work every morning,” she said as she sat back down.
“Then let Mona handle the office for a while.”
She shook her head. “No, I want out from under the whole thing. She and Andy would like to buy the abstract company from us.”
“It’s your call, sweetheart,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned you can give it to them.”
“I thought about that, but I decided not to. They feel too obligated to us already. If we make it a business deal, we can all stay friends in the future.”
“I’ll sign whatever you want me to. But isn’t the abstract game going to play out after the whole field gets leased up?”
She looked at me with an amused smile. “You really don’t know much about the oil business, do you?”
I smiled across at her and slowly shook my head. “No, I don’t. Never claimed to, either.”
“Well, the truth is that it’s just going to get
even better as these holdings start to get into production and begin to split and divide as operators make assignments to borrow against their royalties. The company will set those two kids up for years to come. Besides, I’ve lent them a little money along the way, and they’ve been able to pick up a few leases of their own.”
“So sell it to them. Just show me where to sign.”
Thus ended Della’s short foray into the business world. In a period of four months she’d secured both our futures, and I’ve always wondered what she could have done with an MBA. Probably she’d have spent fifty years as a midechelon executive for a big Manhattan company, and then retired with a gold pin and a sheaf of windy testimonials.
TWENTY-NINE
The next Tuesday Little and I met with Tobe Perkins in a beer joint on the north side of Fort Worth. Perkins was a solid, calm-looking man with brushy gray hair and steady eyes. We held our little conference in a booth at the rear of the place, far from the half dozen rowdy cowboys clustered at the bar.
“You talked to Little, I suppose?” I asked.
“Yeah…”
“And you trust him, don’t you?”
“Sure I do. But I don’t know you, and I don’t know if I trust you or not.”
“You’re sitting here talking about a heist with me,” I pointed out. “Why are you doing that if you don’t trust me?”
He smiled. “Sometimes you have to take a few chances if you’re ever going to get any work in this business. You know, just feel things out. But talking about it and doing it are two different things, and what you have in mind seems a little strange to my way of thinking.”
“How so?”
“Well, I’ve never had a job steered by a guy who didn’t want any of the take. That’s the first thing that makes me think there might be something wrong. And secondly, you don’t talk or act like any criminal I’ve ever known in my life.”
“What If I told you I’m not really a criminal?” I asked.
“Then what are you?”
The waitress appeared and we all ordered Falstaff. When she was gone I said, “I’m an oil man and a lawyer. I served honorably in the United States Navy where I tried cases with the Judge Advocate General’s Office.”
Perkins turned to stare at the old man for a moment. “This business don’t make no sense at all, Little,” he said.
“How does fifty grand above what you get from the job itself sound?” I asked. “Does that make better sense?”
I had his attention. “No, but it’s sure got an interesting ring to it,” he said with a reluctant smile. “What do I have to do for it?”
“You have to stool on a guy—”
“Never,” he said empathically.
“I’m not talking about anybody you’ve ever run with, any of your partners or anything like that. You don’t even know this guy, but I guarantee he’s got it coming.”
“What is this?” he asked. “It sounds like some kind of personal vendetta deal to me.”
“Oh, you’re right about that,” I said. “It’s a vendetta, but it’s not personal. Or if it is, there’s a lot more than just my own feelings at stake here. So how about it?”
“I dunno,” he said, shaking his head dubiously.
I could tell he was reluctant. Most criminals will snitch under the right circumstances. But not all. There are a few, an elite upper echelon, who really are thieves with honor. Or at least there were back in those days.
“Think about it,” I said. “You’ll never get another chance for this kind of money backed up by somebody with the resources to make things go easy on you if you’re caught. You’ve never pulled a job under those conditions in your life, and you know it.”
“Tell me about this guy,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought.
I smiled. I was getting close to hooking him and we both knew it. “Tobe, are you patriotic?” I asked.
“Huh?” The waitress came in the door with our beer. When she left, he took a long pull at his bottle, and said, “I don’t get it. I’m talking about a hijacking and you’re acting like you’re trying to sell me war bonds or something.… What is this?”
“Just answer the question, please,” I said gently. “Do you love your country?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, as much as the next guy, I guess. I mean, everything I got is here. All my family, my friends. I fought in the First World War. Got wounded, too. But what’s that got to do with?…” He turned to Little. “Is this guy nuts?” he asked.
“Not in any way that adversely affects our business,” the old man said with a grin. “Just hear him out.”
“Okay,” Perkins said with a puzzled shrug. “Fire away. I’m all ears.”
“Tobe, my good man,” I began. “I’m going to tell you all about a gentleman who’s uniquely lacking in the civic virtues. So much so, in fact, that…”
An hour later Little and I stood on the sidewalk outside the little tavern watching Perkins drive away.
“Think he’ll go for it?” I asked.
“He already has,” the old man said. “Never fear.”
* * *
When I got home that night I told Della I needed some money.
“Sure, how much?”
“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In large bills.”
She gazed at me impassively through her glasses for a moment, then asked, “What’s going on? Is somebody selling Indiana and giving a cash discount?”
“Seriously … Can you sneak it out of our various accounts a little at a time over the next few weeks?”
“It depends on how many weeks you’re talking about,” she said.
“We have until late November.”
“It can be done, but you need to realize there’s really no way to cover something like this up.”
“That’s okay. I’m not trying to cover anything up. I just don’t want the withdrawals to cause any talk. Make them random both as to times and amounts.”
“Okay. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“Later,” I said. “Afterwards you get to know everything.”
THIRTY
The following Saturday Little called me and said that Perkins had agreed to do the job, and that he wanted to meet me that coming Tuesday at a place called the City Grill in Sweetwater, a small town about two hours to the north. I was on time and so was Perkins. It was well before the lunch hour, and the place was almost deserted. Perkins knew the owner, and the man let us use a small private dining room. We both asked for coffee.
“Glad to have you aboard,” I said.
“I hope I’m glad to be here,” he said with a twisted grin. “I’ve never been mixed up in anything like this. I’ve always been more ordinary. I won’t even begin to ask you who all is involved with this thing.…”
“That’s good, because I can’t tell you. I can say that my associates were informed of your service in the first war, and they appreciate it and respect you for it.”
He looked like he didn’t know how to respond. Finally he managed, “Thanks,” and reached up to scratch his head.
“When do you want to look things over?” I asked.
“That’s already been done,” he replied.
“You didn’t go down there yourself, did you?” I asked. “I mean if you’re going to testify later we don’t want anybody to remember seeing you—”
He held up his hand to silence me. Then he smiled. “Relax. My wife came down with me to case the job for us. She’s asleep back at the hotel right now.”
“Your wife?” I asked, dumfounded.
His smile got bigger. “She works in an architect’s office up in Kansas City, and she’s damn near got a photographic memory. I trust her more than I trust myself on casing a job. A woman’s attention to detail and all that…”
I shook my head in wonder. “That’s a new one on me.”
“She drew me a quick floor plan, and let me tell you, that whole damn place is a crackerbox deal.”
“Okay,” I
said. “It sounds good. You go in at eleven-thirty on the night of the twenty-ninth. Now, the timing of this is very important.…”
“How come?”
I gave him a serene smile. “Because if everything goes right the cops are going to be busy elsewhere.”
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to get it. You’ll find out all about it later. It’s just a profitable little diversion I have planned, and it should make your job that much safer. Now, back to your end … You should be in and out in an hour … right?”
“That’s about it,” he replied. “Maybe a little quicker than that.”
“Afterward you come directly here to Sweetwater and check into the Alamo Plaza Tourist Court—”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Why not check in earlier that afternoon before the job to save time?”
“Good thinking,” I said. “So come back to your room and wait. At four o’clock, two guys will come to the door.” I reached in my inside coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here are their pictures so you’ll know it’s them,” I told him. “They’ll have the exchange money, and from the time they knock on that door you’re home free.”
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve still got to get that money back to Kansas City. A man’s always vulnerable on the road with the take from a robbery.”
“No, it’s going to be different this time,” I said with a grin. “You let your partner take your car and go his own route back north. Then you and my men go in their car, and they’ll take you and the money on back to Kansas City.”
“Okay…” he said dubiously.
“Now, as soon as you get in your room at the motel I want you to separate off about ninety-two or ninety-three thousand dollars and put it in a separate satchel. That’s the money you’re going to leave behind in the room. Be sure to leave the money just the way you got it. It’ll be replaced with what I’m sending with the guys who are coming up. You can count it if you want, but—”
“Shit, your men will have me in a position to kill me and take it all. Why expect them to cheat me for only part of it? This is either going to work or it’s not. I’m either going to walk away from it or I’m not. I figure it’s worth the risk.”
The Rogues' Game Page 15
