The Hot Rock

4

Major Patrick Iko, stocky, black, mustached, studied the dossier he'd been given on John Archibald Dortmunder and shook his head in amused contempt. He could understand why Kelp hadn't wanted to tell him that Dortmunder was just finishing a prison term, one of his famous plans having failed to go precisely to blueprint, but hadn't Kelp realized the Major would automatically look into the background of each of the men under consideration? He naturally had to be extremely selective about the men to whom he would entrust the Balabomo Emerald. He couldn't take a chance on picking some dishonest types who, having rescued the emerald from the Akinzi, would then steal it for themselves.

The great mahogany door opened and the Major's secretary, a slender, discreet ebony young man whose spectacles reflected the light, came in and said, "Sir, two gentlemen to see you. Mr. Kelp and another man."

"Show them in."

"Yes, sir." The secretary backed out.

The Major closed the dossier and put it away in a desk drawer. He then got to his feet and smiled with bland geniality at the two white men walking toward him across the great expanse of Oriental rug. "Mr. Kelp," he said. "How good to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, Major Iko," Kelp said. "This here is John Dortmunder, the fellow I told you about."

"Mr. Dortmunder." The Major bowed slightly. "Won't you both be seated?"

They all sat down, and the Major studied this man Dortmunder. It was always fascinating to see a man in the flesh after having known him only as a dossier, words typed on sheets of paper in a manila folder, photostats of documents, newspaper clippings, photos. Here was the man that dossier had attempted to describe. How close had it come?

In terms of facts, Major Iko knew quite a bit about John Archibald Dortmunder. He knew that Dortmunder was thirty-seven years of age, that he had been born in a small town in central Illinois, that he had grown up in an orphanage, that he had served in the United States Army in Korea during the police action there but had been on the other side of the cops-and-robbers game ever since, and that he had twice been in prison for robbery, the second term having ended with a parole just this morning. He knew that Dortmunder had been arrested several other times in robbery investigations, but that none of those other arrests had stuck. He knew that Dortmunder had never been arrested for any other crime, and that there didn't even appear to be any rumors concerning any murders, arsons, rapes, or kidnappings that he might have performed. And he knew that Dortmunder had been married in San Diego in 1952 to a night-club entertainer named Honeybun Bazoom, from whom he had won an uncontested divorce in 1954.

What did the man himself show? He was sitting now in the direct sunlight streaming in the park-view windows, and what he looked mostly like was a convalescent. A little gray, a little tired, face a little lined, thin body rather frail-looking. His suit was obviously new and obviously the cheapest quality made. His shoes were obviously old but had obviously cost quite a bit when new. The clothing indicated a man who had been used to living well but for whom times had recently turned bad. Dortmunder's eyes, as they met the Major's, were flat, watchful, unexpressive. A man who would keep his own counsel, the Major thought, and a man who would make his decisions slowly and then stand by them.

And stand by his word? The Major thought it worth taking the chance. He said, "Welcome back to the world, Mr. Dortmunder. I imagine freedom feels sweet right now."

Dortmunder and Kelp looked at each other.

The Major smiled and said, "Mr. Kelp didn't tell me."

"I know," Dortmunder said. "You been checking up on me."

"Naturally," the Major said. "Wouldn't you, in my position?"

"Maybe I ought to check up on you," Dortmunder said.

"Perhaps you should," the Major said. "They'd be happy to tell you about me at the UN. Or call your own State Department, I'm sure they have a file on me over there."

Dortmunder shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What did you find out about me?"

"That I can probably take a chance on you. Mr. Kelp tells me you make good plans."

"I try to."

"What happened the last time?"

"Something went wrong," Dortmunder said.

Kelp, rushing to his friend's defense, said, "Major, it wasn't his fault, it was just rotten luck. He had it figured for-"

"I've read the report," the Major told him. "Thank you." To Dortmunder he said, "It was a good plan, and you did run into bad luck, but I'm pleased to see you don't waste time justifying yourself."

"I can't play it over again," Dortmunder said. "Let's talk about this emerald of yours."

"Let's. Can you get it?"

"I don't know. How much help can you give us?"

The Major frowned. "Help? What kind of help?"

"We'll probably need guns. Maybe a car or two, maybe a truck, depending on how the job works up. We might need some other stuff."

"Oh, yes," the Major said. "I could supply any material you might need, certainly."

"Good." Dortmunder nodded and pulled a crumpled pack of Camels from his pocket. He lit a cigarette and leaned forward to drop the match in the ashtray on the Major's desk. "About money," he said. "Kelp tells me it's thirty gee a man."

"Thirty thousand dollars, yes."

"No matter how many men?"

"Well," the Major said, "there should be some sort of limit on it. I wouldn't want you enlisting an army."

"What's the limit?"

"Mr. Kelp spoke of five men."

"All right. That's a hundred fifty gee. What if we do it with less men?"

"It would still be thirty thousand dollars a man."

Dortmunder said, "Why?"

"I wouldn't want to encourage you," the Major said, "to attempt the robbery with too few men. So it will be thirty thousand per man no matter how many or how few men are involved."

"Up to five."

"If you tell me six are absolutely necessary, I will pay for six."

Dortmunder nodded. He said, "Plus expenses."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This is going to be a full-time job for maybe a month, maybe six weeks," Dortmunder said. "We need money to live on."

"You mean you want an advance on the thirty thousand."

"No. I mean I want expense money over and above the thirty thousand."

The Major shook his head. "No, no," he said. "I'm sorry, that wasn't the agreement. Thirty thousand dollars a man, and that's all."

Dortmunder got to his feet and stubbed out the Camel in the Major's ashtray. It smoldered. Dortmunder said, "See you around," and, "Come on, Kelp," and started for the door.

The Major couldn't believe it. He called, "Are you going?"

Dortmunder turned at the door and looked at him. "Yeah."

"But why?"

"You're too cheap. You'd make me nervous to work for you. I'd come to you for a gun, you wouldn't want to give me more than one bullet." Dortmunder reached for the doorknob.

The Major said, "Wait."

Dortmunder waited, hand on knob.

The Major thought fast, adding up budgets. "I'll give you one hundred dollars a week per man living expenses," he said.

"Two hundred," Dortmunder said. "Nobody can live in New York City on one hundred a week."

"One-fifty," the Major said.

Dortmunder hesitated, and the Major could see him trying to decide whether or not to hold out for the full amount.

Kelp, who'd just been sitting there all this time, said, "That's a fair price, Dortmunder. What the hell, it's only for a few weeks."

Dortmunder shrugged and took his hand off the knob. "All right," he said. He came back and sat down. "What can you tell me about how this emerald's guarded and where it's kept?"

A wavering thin ribbon of smoke extended up from the smoldering Camel, as though tiny Cherokees had set up a campfire in the ashtray. The line was directly between the Major and Dortmunder, making him feel crosseyed when he tried to focus on Dortmunder's face. But he was too proud either to stub out the cigarette or move his head, so he squinted one eye half shut and went on to answer Dortmunder's questions:

"All I know is, the Akinzi have it very well guarded. I've tried to learn the details, how many guards and so on, but they are being kept secret."

"But it's in the Coliseum now."

"Yes. Part of the Akinzi exhibit."

"All right. We'll go take a look at it. Where do we get our money?"

The Major looked blank. "Your money?"

"This week's hundred fifty."

"Oh." It was all happening a little too fast. "I'll call our finance office downstairs. You can stop in there on your way out."

"Good." Dortmunder got to his feet, and a second later so did Kelp. Dortmunder said, "I'll get in touch with you if I need anything."

The Major was sure of that.