Bad News

17

The question is,” Dortmunder said, “what happens next?”

They were gathered again in Guilderpost’s bleak motel room at eleven that morning, this time without Little Feather’s sunny presence, and Irwin said, “Next, Little Feather lets them stumble on Joseph Redcorn, they search, there’s some sort of tribal history or something—”

“Or something,” Tiny said, from his usual perch on the bed.

Irwin gave an impatient shake of the head. “Joseph Redcorn was the only Pottaknobbee who died in a fall off the Empire State Building. They’ll have a record.”

“Fine,” Dortmunder said. “They’ve got a record. Then what?”

Guilderpost said, “They won’t get to the DNA today.”

Kelp said, “Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

Irwin explained: “It has to come from them. It’s bad psychology if Little Feather mentions DNA first. So all that’ll happen now is, they see it’s possible, the family did exist, she says she’s part of that family, she can’t prove she is, they can’t prove she isn’t, and sooner or later somebody’s going to say—”

“Anastasia,” Tiny rumbled.

“Exactly,” Irwin said. “But it has to come from them.”

Guilderpost said, “And they won’t think of it today. They have too much to absorb.”

Dortmunder said, “Okay. So what I want to know is, what happens next?”

“They let her go,” Guilderpost told him, “she returns to Whispering Pines, and she telephones to us, here.”

“Uh-oh,” Dortmunder said.

But Guilderpost, with a little superior smirk, waggled a finger at Dortmunder, shook his head, and said, “She says only one word. ‘Sorry.’ As though it’s a wrong number. And hangs up.”

Dortmunder nodded. “And makes another call?”

Guilderpost looked surprised. “What?” He and Irwin frowned at each other.

Dortmunder said, “So they know it was code, it was a signal, if they’re tapping her phone. And if they want to know, is this woman alone here or is there a gang behind her, they’ll tap her phone.”

Irwin said, “It’s a pay phone, John, at Whispering Pines. There’re four of them there in a row.”

“All right,” Dortmunder said. “So there’s a chance. Then what?”

“The usual routine,” Guilderpost told him. “And she comes here, to let us know how things went.”

“No,” Dortmunder said.

Guilderpost didn’t believe it. “No?”

“In the first place,” Dortmunder told him, “if they let her go, we know how things went. In the second place, taxis have trip sheets, what time the pickup, where’d they go, what time the drop-off. It’ll take the cops half an hour to see Little Feather spends a hell of a lot of time in that supermarket.”

Irwin said, “John, we do have to talk with Little Feather, plan what we do next.”

Tiny grunted and pointed at Dortmunder and said, “You listen to Duh—John.”

“That’s right,” Kelp said. “He’s the planner, he’s the organizer.”

Guilderpost looked offended. “I beg your pardon, but this is my project. You three have coattailed yourselves to it. All right, there’s enough for everyone, no need to be greedy or cause trouble, but it’s still my project.”

Dortmunder said, “That’s not what they mean. We do different things, Fitzroy, you and me. You figure out someplace where you can make people believe something’s true that isn’t true. Make them believe you got an old Dutch land grant screws up their title to their property. Make them believe maybe there is just one more Pottaknobbee alive in the world. That’s not what I do.”

“No, of course not,” Guilderpost said, and Irwin, sounding slightly snotty, said, “I’ve been wondering that, John. What is it you do?”

“I figure out,” Dortmunder told him, “how to go into a place where I’m not supposed to be, and come back out again, without getting caught or having anything stick to me.”

“It’s like D day,” Kelp explained, “only like, you know, smaller.”

“We also go for quieter,” Dortmunder said.

“So up till now,” Kelp said, “you’ve just been putting the scam together, but now you sprung it, now you got the law and the tribes and everybody taking an interest, now you need John.”

“To tell you don’t do phone calls in code,” Dortmunder said. “And don’t just make a meeting without thinking about it, because now you got law sniffing around. All of us in this room, our job now is to not exist.”

Irwin said, “You mean leave Little Feather out there completely on her own?”

“No,” Dortmunder said. “What we do with Little Feather is, we act like she’s the crown jewels of England, and she’s for the first time on display in America, in New York, somewhere, at somewhere—”

“Radio City Music Hall,” Kelp suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Dortmunder said. “Maybe the UN. Maybe Carnegie Hall. Somewhere. And there’s guards. And now what we gotta do is, we gotta get in there—”

“Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Tiny offered.

“Wherever,” Dortmunder said. “We gotta get in there, wherever the hell it is, and we gotta get back out again, without those guards even knowing we were there.”

“Only in this case,” Kelp finished, “without the crown jewels.”

“Well, yeah,” Dortmunder said. “I’m not suggesting we kidnap Little Feather. What I’m saying is, we got to deal with Little Feather without anybody knowing we’re doing it, so let me run this part.”

“I am prepared,” Guilderpost assured him, “to learn at your feet.”

“Good,” Dortmunder said. Irony never did make much headway with him.