Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Sixty

Jerry and I flew into Vegas about 8 P.M. the next night. We killed the day in Tahoe watching Sammy rehearse, checking out the Harrah’s operation, playing some more blackjack in our rooms. Finally I called the pilot and he flew us in.

We were in the Sands parking lot at nine, with an hour to go before the meet. We decided to sit in my car and wait.

“Nothing should go wrong this time,” I said. “Nobody should know about this meet, even if somebody was listening to our phone conversation.”

“Unless the dame and her boyfriend blab to somebody,” Jerry pointed out. “Ya know, if they got, like, one more partner they could still fuck it up and get us all killed.”

When he said that I touched the.38. It felt heavy in my jacket pocket. Jerry had cleaned his.45 yet again the night before.

I was nervous, sweating as if it was ten degrees hotter than it was, but Jerry was cool and calm.

“Mr. G., you really gonna give this broad all that money?”

“I’m gonna give her some of it, Jerry,” I said, “and use the rest as bait.”

“Bait?”

“Joe Kennedy wants to know who’s got that photo of JFK,” I said.

“You wanna go after those guys?” Jerry asked. “They’re not gonna be like yer girl and her boyfriend, ya know.”

“I know,” I said. “I don’t want to go after them, but Joe Kennedy might. We may not know how many prints of these photos have been made, but like you said, there’s only one way to make sure they don’t get released to the public.”

“So even though Kennedy ain’t sent any of his own hitters out yet-or so he says-you think he will once you get him the names?”

“That’s all he wants.”

“You comfortable with that, Mr. G.?”

“I’ve given it some thought and, yeah, I am,” I said. “I think they killed the guy in the warehouse and I think they’d kill Caitlin and her boyfriend if they had the chance.”

“So you think she’ll give them up to you?”

“If I can convince her that they’ll kill her if she doesn’t, yeah,” I said. “Also, I’m holdin’ back fifty thousand.”

“What if she doesn’t know who they are.”

“There can’t be two different factions holding those photos,” I said. “Too much coincidence. It’s more likely somebody in the original group decided to go out on their own.”

“Caitlin and her guy?”

I nodded.

“You got any suggestions about where I should stand?” he asked, craning his neck to look around.

“I think you should stay here, keep your eye on me,” I said. “About ten to nine I’m gonna start walkin’ around. I figure she’s gonna pick out one of these dark corners out here and draw me in.”

“Naw,” he said, “I gotta get outta the car, in case her boyfriend’s around. I can’t leave ya out there with your ass swingin’ in the wind, Mr. G.”

“I appreciate that, Jerry,” I said, “but you’re gonna have to stay low.”

“I may be a big guy, Mr. G.,” he said, “but I can stay low.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

When the time came Jerry said, “Let me get out first.”

“Go ahead.”

He opened his car door, closed it as quietly as he could, then drew his.45 before he slunk away between the cars. He was right, he was able to keep low enough not to be seen.

I waited a minute or two then opened the door and stepped out. I didn’t close it as lightly as Jerry had.

I walked out in the center of the brightest light in the lot. I had to be as easy to spot as Jerry was difficult.

Time went by-seconds, then minutes. I checked my watch several times. Finally, it was ten-seventeen when I heard someone hiss at me from the darkness.

“Caitlin?”

“Over here,” she whispered, and stepped out of the shadows.

I touched the gun in my pocket, but left it there. Likewise the envelope of money in my pocket. I had split the money into one third, and two thirds.

I walked over to the lamppost and she stepped out into the light.

“Give me the money,” she said. She looked bedraggled: limp hair, pale complexion. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Quickly.”

“Where are the photos?”

“You’ll get the damn photos,” she said. “I want the money first. Now!”

“Not until I see the photos,” I said. “And the negatives. Or the roll.”

“There’s no roll,” she said, impatiently. “The photos were developed.”

“Where are the negatives?”

“We only have one,” she said. “The one photo you’re lookin’ for.”

She took a small white envelope from her pocket.

“Seventy-five thousand,” she said, her tone filled with awe. “For one picture.”