Blood Game

Chapter Eighteen

The first money came in a steel box latched with a lock. A hefty man in a three-piece suit and a walrus mustache delivered it. Guild opened the door for him. The man stared down at Guild’s.44. “That Stoddard, he don’t trust nobody, does he?” the man said. He was laughing.

He brought the box into the office, walked over, and set it on the desk.

“This is Stoddard’s son, Stephen,” Guild said, hoping the man would take a hint and not insult the father in front of the son anymore. Guild couldn’t help it; he felt sorry for the boy.

“Yeah, I met him,” the man said.

Stephen Stoddard pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat. He dropped to his haunches and held the paper up to the steel box. The paper held the combination to the lock. Stephen worked quickly, deftly. In seconds the lock was open and he was throwing back the lid.

The man whistled. “Your old man is having a good day, kid.”

The box was packed tight with greenbacks.

“This is the biggest haul I’ve ever seen around these parts,” the man said.

Stephen slammed the lid and latched the box again. He carried it over to the comer and set it on a small desk.

“I’ll be back in another hour or so with the next box. It’s already half full.” He snorted. “The way them yokels is streamin’ in, it may not take another full hour.”

He went to the door. “Your old man said we wasn’t to be drinkin’ no beer today. That still hold?”

“Yes, it does,” Stephen said.

The man offered them a sour expression and left.

Guild went over to the rolltop desk where he’d been sitting. He put his feet up and laid the.44 in his lap. He took a five-cent cigar from his pocket and lighted it. He watched the way the blue smoke turned the golden dust motes silver.

Stephen went over and stood by the money box. He touched it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

“Both Dad and Victor are going to make out all right on this one,” Stephen said. “This is the one they’ve both been waiting for.”

Guild took a drag on his cigar. “I don’t think you should be here.”

“What?”

“You’re not hired to be a guard. I am.”

“You think I’m afraid?”

“No.”

“You think I couldn’t cut it if I had to?”

“No.”

“Then why would you want to get rid of me?”

“Because I’ve got a funny feeling is all.”

“What kind of funny feeling?”

“The kind of funny feeling this kind of money always gives me.”

“I’m his son.”

“I’m surprised he would want you here.”

“Meaning exactly what, Leo?”

“Meaning if you were my boy, I’d want you out walking around the stands. Putting a good face on things for the public. I wouldn’t want you anywhere near the money.”

“Dad trusts me.”

Guild didn’t want to say what he thought: Your dad doesn’t care enough about you to move you out of the way. Instead he said, “Anyplace in particular you’d want to settle?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Anyplace you been thinking of settling when the time comes?”

“I couldn’t leave Dad.”

“I mean if something happened and you had to leave your dad. Where would you settle?”

He seemed afraid to even speculate. “I’ve just never thought about it.” But his quickly averted eyes said that he was lying.

“You ever seen the ocean at Atlantic City?”

“Yes.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it? And all those girls on the beach.”

Softly Stephen said, “It’s very nice.”

“You ever seen Vermont in autumn? I’ve never seen anything like the leaves in the hills. Like they’re on fire.”

“No, I’ve never seen them.”

“Or a dairy farm in New Hampshire? The grass gets so green that the black and white cows really stand out against it on a sunny day. And it’s so peaceful in the shade-”

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

“Just passing the time.”

“No, you’re not.”

Guild sighed. “If you were my boy, you wouldn’t be guarding the money, and that’s for goddamn sure.” He was angry at the three of them-at Stoddard for using his son this way, at his son for being used, and at himself because he could not seem to let things lie where they were.

“I’m not your son and I’m tired of your running down my dad. I should tell him some of the things you’ve said.”

He had pushed too far. He had lost the boy. He could not help the kid now because the kid wouldn’t let him.

He said, “You should ask for a cut.”

“What?”

“You should ask your old man for a percentage of the take.”

“I know you’re trying to help, Leo, and I appreciate it, but you’re really talking crazy.”

“You work hard, kid. You deserve a percentage. That way when you’re finally ready to leave-”

“You’re getting kind of one note.”

Guild stared at him. “You deserve a life of your own, Stephen. You really do.”

Stephen walked to the door. “I’m going to go get some lemonade. You want a glass?”

“That would be fine.”

“Big glass or small glass?”

“Big glass.”

“I know you’re just trying to help.”

“I don’t seem to be doing a very good job.”

“He isn’t as bad as you claim.”

“Maybe not.”

“He’s my father. He raised me.”

“I know.”

Stephen said, “I’m going to stay with him till he dies, Leo, and that’s the way things are.” He spoke with a quiet determination that was all the more convincing for its lack of bluster.

He nodded and left.