The World in My Pocket

I

Four men sat around a table on which were scattered playing cards, poker chips, a couple of loaded ashtrays, glasses and a bottle of whisky.

The room was in semi-darkness except for a green, shaded light that fell directly on the table. A smoke haze hung overhead and spread out, drifting away into the shadows. Morgan, a big man with cold, restless eyes and a thin mouth, laid down four kings and sat back, drumming gently with his fingertips on the table.

There was a pause, then with grunts of disgust the other three men threw in their cards.

Gypo, born Giuseppe Mandini, a fat ball of a man with black curly hair, going grey at the temples, a swarthy complexion and a small beaky nose, flicked his chips across the table to Morgan and grinned ruefully.

‘That cleans me,’ he said. ‘What luck! Nothing better than a nine all the evening!’

Ed Bleck fingered his neat stack of chips, removed four of them and pushed them over to Morgan. He was tall, fair and heavily sunburned. He had a vicious handsomeness that appealed to women but made men wary. He wore a neatly pressed grey flannel suit and his tie was hand painted: yellow horseshoes on a bottle-green background. Of the four men, he was the best dressed.

The fourth man was Alex Kitson. He was the youngest of the four, around twenty-three. He was solidly built, dark, with high cheekbones, a flattened nose of a professional fighter and dark, uneasy eyes. He wore an open-neck shirt and a pair of black corduroy trousers. He tossed the last of his chips over to Morgan, grimacing.

‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I had four queens. I thought…’ He broke off, aware the other two were looking intently at Morgan and not listening to what he was saying. Morgan was making the chips he had received into three neat piles. A cigarette hung from his thin lips, and the other three men listened to his quick, steady breathing. When he had arranged the chips to his liking, he looked up. His black snake’s eyes moved slowly from face to face.

Bleck said impatiently, ‘What’s on your mind, Frank? Something’s been biting at you all the evening.’

Morgan continued to drum on the table with his fingertips for some seconds, then he said abruptly, ‘How would you boys like to pick up two hundred thousand bucks?’

The three stiffened. They knew Morgan well enough by now to be certain he wouldn’t kid about a thing like that.

‘What was that again?’ Gypo asked, leaning forward.

‘Two hundred thousand bucks each,’ Morgan said, emphasizing the last word. ‘It’s there for the taking, but it’ll be a tough one.’

Bleck took out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped a cigarette out and then began to roll it between his fingers while he regarded Morgan thoughtfully.

‘You mean the complete take is eight hundred Gs?’ he asked.

‘A million,’ Morgan said. ‘There’ll be a five-way split if you three want to come in on it.’

‘Five? Who’s the fifth?’ Bleck asked sharply.

‘We’ll get to that,’ Morgan said. He pushed back his chair and stood up. Putting his hands flat on the table, he leaned forward. His thin white face was tense as he said, ‘This is the big one. It’s tough, but it yields a million bucks in hard cash: money you can stick in your pocket without your pocket catching fire. Nothing bigger than a ten-dollar bill. But make no mistake about it — it’s a tough one.’

‘Two hundred thousand bucks?’ Gypo was gaping. ‘There ain’t that much money in the world!’

Morgan grinned at him. The expression on his face made him look like a hungry wolf.

‘It’s the big one,’ he repeated. ‘With that amount of dough, you’ll have the world in your pocket!’

‘Let me guess, Frank,’ Bleck said. ‘It’s the Rocket Research Station’s payroll.’

Morgan sat down. He nodded, grinning.

‘You’re smart, Ed. That’s the one. How do you like it? The payroll is worth exactly a million: all in small bills. It’s there to be had.’

He looked directly at Kitson who was staring at him, a startled expression on his face.

‘You heard me, kid,’ Morgan said. ‘It’s there to be had.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Kitson said, his big hands turning into fists. ‘That’s one job we don’t do, Frank, and I know what I’m talking about.’

Morgan smiled at him, the way an older man smiles at a younger man who has said something stupid. His eyes moved to Bleck, knowing that if Bleck had a feeling for the job, something might be done about it. Bleck was the one with the brains. This kid, Kitson, had guts, was fast with his fists and could handle a car, but there was nothing in his head. If Bleck said it couldn’t be done, then he might have to think again.

‘What do you say, Ed?’

Bleck lit the cigarette, frowning.

‘It’s the one job I wouldn’t pick in spite of the size of the payoff, but if you have an angle, I’m willing to listen.’

That was like Bleck. He never expressed an opinion unless he had all the facts.

Gypo moved his fat body uneasily, looking from Kitson to Morgan, a puzzled expression on his face.

‘What’s so tough about the job then?’ he asked.

Morgan waved his hand at Kitson.

‘You tell him, kid. You should know. You worked for the outfit.’

‘Yes,’ Kitson said. ‘I do know. This is the one job no one swings. Anyone who is crazy enough to try to grab that payroll is yelling for trouble.’ He looked around the table at the other three, uneasy to be talking this way to three men much older than himself and unsure of himself. ‘I’m not kidding. The Welling Armoured Truck Agency is really organized for trouble. I should know. As Frank said, I worked there once.’

Gypo rubbed his face with his hand and frowned at Morgan.

‘But you have an angle, haven’t you, Frank?’

Morgan ignored him. He continued to stare at Kitson.

‘Go on, kid,’ he said. ‘Keep talking. Tell them how tough it is.’

Kitson picked up one of Morgan’s poker chips. He began to turn it over and over between his thick fingers while he stared at it, frowning.

‘Before I quit the agency,’ he said, ‘they got delivery of a new truck. Before this truck arrived, they were using a sardine can with four outriders to protect it. This new truck doesn’t need outriders. It’s really the tops. They’re so sure it is foolproof they don’t even insure the load anymore.’

‘What’s so special about it?’ Morgan asked.

Kitson ran his thick fingers through his hair. It embarrassed him to talk but he was determined to prove that this time Morgan was wrong to suggest such a job. He had had, up to now, a lot of faith in Morgan. The four of them had been working as a team for the past six months, and they had pulled several pretty good jobs. The money hadn’t been much, but there had been no risk, and each one of these jobs had been Morgan’s brainchild. Kitson was willing to admit that two hundred thousand bucks was real money, but what was the use of thinking about it? Morgan had said it was to be had. But he was wrong! He just didn’t know what he was talking about!

‘Go on, kid,’ Morgan urged, a jeering expression in his eyes. ‘What’s so special about this new truck?’

Kitson drew in a deep breath.

‘You won’t get near it, Frank,’ he said. He was so anxious to make his point, his voice shook. ‘This truck is made of a special armoured plate alloy. You can’t cut into it. Maybe it would melt under continuous and intense heat, but the heat would have to be applied for hours, maybe days. The strongest part of the truck is the door. There’s a time lock on it. When the truck is loaded, they fix the lock. It takes the truck three hours fast driving to reach the Research Station. The lock is set to operate four hours after it has left the Agency. That gives the driver time in hand to take care of traffic blocks or a breakdown.’ He put the poker chip down and looked at the other two who were leaning forward, listening, intent expressions on their faces. ‘There’s a push button on the dashboard that controls the time lock. If there is any sign of trouble, the driver has only to punch the button and the time lock cancels out.’

‘Then what happens?’ Morgan asked jeeringly.

‘Once the button is punched, no one opens the door until the time lock is reset, and that’s an expert’s job.’ Kitson lit a cigarette and let the smoke drift down his wide nostrils. ‘Then there’s another thing: they carry a shortwave receiving and transmitter set in the truck, and from the moment they leave for the Research Station, they are in continuous radio communication with the Agency.’ Aware now that Morgan was grinning derisively at him, he turned his attention to Gypo and addressed him directly. ‘Look, suppose some nut tries to hold up the truck. Suppose this nut blocks the road and stops the truck. The driver and the guard automatically go into their routine. The driver punches the button that scrambles the time lock and the guard flicks down a switch that slams steel shutters over the windshield and the windows, turning the truck into a box that just can’t be bust open. Then the guard flicks down another switch on the transmitter which sets up a continuous signal. Any cop radio car can home on to this signal and no matter where the truck is, the radio car will find it. Once they’ve operated the three switches, all they have to do is to sit tight in their steel box and wait for help.’ He tapped ash off his cigarette, his hand shaking from nervous excitement. ‘Like I said: no one is going to hijack that truck. They are really organized for trouble.’

Gypo scratched the back of his neck, a sudden bored expression on his fat face. Bleck had picked up a deck of cards and was shuffling them aimlessly, his light-coloured eyes on Morgan.

‘How about the driver and the guard?’ Morgan asked. ‘Couldn’t they be got at?’

Kitson waved his hands.

‘Got at? Those two? Are you that crazy? Who’s been telling you what?’

An ugly glint came into Morgan’s eyes.

‘I asked you a question,’ he said. ‘Don’t flap with your mouth, and don’t ask me if I’m crazy. I don’t like it.’

Seeing his angry expression, Bleck said smoothly, ‘Take it easy, Frank. The kid’s doing all right. At least he seems to know what he’s talking about.’

Morgan sneered at him.

‘Yeah. Well, we’ll see.’ He looked at Kitson. ‘Go on. Tell me why these two can’t be got at.’

Kitson was beginning to sweat. Tiny beads of perspiration made his flattened nose shine in the hard light.

‘I’ve worked with them,’ he said, staring hard at Morgan. ‘I know them. The driver’s name is Dave Thomas and the guard is Mike Dirkson. They are tough and keen and quick with a gun. They know if they defeat a holdup, they will get a two thousand dollar bonus each. They know there’s no way of busting open the truck to get at the payroll so they wouldn’t be that crazy to throw in with us and lose a regular job that pays off. These two are on the beam. You’ll find that out fast enough if you start something with them.’

Gypo broke in, ‘If it’s going to be that tough, I don’t want anything to do with it. Okay, two hundred grand is fine, but no money is big enough if you ain’t alive to spend it.’

Morgan smiled.

Gypo was a defeatist. He had his qualities, but guts and staying power weren’t his strong points. He was a technical man. There were few locks that his sensitive fingers couldn’t master. He had opened many impossible locks in his time, but he had always worked in an atmosphere of quiet. He had never been called on to work under pressure, and Morgan knew this job would be working under the greatest possible pressure. He wondered if Gypo would make the grade. He had enough confidence in himself to be sure he could talk Gypo into tackling the job, but that didn’t mean much. When the time came: when the cards were down and the pressure was on, everything would depend on Gypo’s skill. If his nerves blew up, then the job would blow up too.

‘Relax,’ he said, putting his hand on Gypo’s shoulder. ‘Since we four ganged up, I’ve steered you all into good jobs. Right?’

Gypo nodded while the other two stared at Morgan, waiting.

‘Not big stuff,’ Morgan went on, ‘but you all had some dough. But sooner or later the cops are going to get wise to us. We can’t go on and on pulling little jobs for peanut money without getting a rumble. So I figure we should try the big one, collect the dough, break up the mob and go our own ways. Two hundred thousand can buy a lot of fun. The world is in our pockets with that kind of dough. This job can be done. It’s just a matter of working on it. I know it’s tough. Kitson has given you most of the dope. What he says is right, but he’s forgotten one thing.’ He looked at the three men, seeing Gypo was uneasy, Kitson obstinate and scared, Bleck still indifferent, still waiting to be convinced. ‘What he forgot to tell you is that this new truck has been on the hoof now five months, week in and out, and everyone believes it is foolproof. Everyone, including Kitson, is sold on the idea that no one in his right mind would try to grab the truck. When you get that kind of idea into your head, you lower your guard and your chin’s uncovered. It only needs a quick right-hand punch, and you’re licked.’

He deliberately used the parlance of the ring because he wanted to catch Kitson’s interest. He had to have him as well as Gypo on his side. He saw he had been successful. Kitson was now looking less obstinate and more interested.

‘Everything Kitson has told you about the truck I read in papers months ago,’ Morgan went on. ‘These guys were so cocky about their truck they gave it wide publicity. They are certain no one can bust into it, and they figure the more details they give out about it, the tougher they make it sound, the more business they’ll drum up for the agency. Ever since I read about that truck, I’ve had it at the back of my mind to bust it. We can do it if you guys have the guts to work with me. It’ll need guts, but don’t forget the payoff is two hundred grand each.’

Bleck crushed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.

He was staring at Morgan, his pale eyes narrowed.

‘And you’ve got an angle?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ Morgan lit a cigarette, blowing smoke across the table towards Gypo. ‘I’ve got an angle. At least we have plenty of time to think about it. That truck is going to deliver a million bucks to the Research Station every week now for five years, and maybe longer. I admit they are organized for trouble, but as the weeks go by, they are going to get less watchful, less alert, and that’s when we step in and sock them.’

‘Now, wait a moment,’ Kitson said, leaning forward, his face flushing. ‘This is a lot of crap. How long does it take a guy, even if he is half-asleep to press a button? Two seconds? Certainly not more. Six seconds to press three buttons, then the truck turns into a steel tortoise and there’s nothing you nor anyone else can do about it. Do you imagine you can stop that truck, break open the door and handle the driver and guard in six seconds? Talk sense! This is a goddamn pipe dream!’

‘You think so?’ Morgan said jeeringly.

‘I know so! Stop that truck, and before you can get within a yard of it, the steel shutters will be down, the time lock scrambled and the radio screaming for help!’

‘Sure?’ Morgan said and his jeering smile made Kitson itch to hit him.

‘I’m sure, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise,’ Kitson said, controlling his temper with difficulty.

‘Suppose you pipe down and let Frank give us his angle?’ Bleck said. ‘If you think you’ve got better brains than he has, then why the hell don’t you run this outfit?’

Kitson flushed scarlet, shrugged angrily and tilted back his chair. He looked sullenly at Bleck and then at Morgan.

‘Okay, but I tell you it can’t be done,’ he said.

Bleck looked over at Morgan.

‘Go ahead and tell us how you figure to work it, Frank.’

‘Yesterday I took a look at the route from the Agency to the Research Station,’ Morgan said. ‘It’s quite a trip: ninety-three miles by the clock. Seventy of these miles are on the highway, twenty on a secondary road, ten on a dirt road and three on a private road leading directly to the Research Station. I was looking for a place where we could stop the truck. The highway is out. The secondary road is out too. The traffic on both these roads is continuous and heavy. The private road is guarded night and day so that’s out too. That leaves us with the dirt road.’ He flicked ash off his cigarette, screwing up his black eyes as he stared around at the three men facing him. ‘Ten miles of road. Four miles from the secondary road and up the dirt road, there’s a branch road leading to Highway 10. Most of the traffic, and it isn’t heavy, uses the road past the Research Station gates because it is a better road and two miles shorter than the other dirt road. A couple of miles before you get to the Research Station gates there’s a bottleneck made by two big rocks either side of the road. Besides the rocks, there are a lot of scrub bushes. It’s a pretty good place for an ambush or an accident.’

Bleck nodded.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’ve been over that road myself and I very nearly had a pile-up there. If you take the bend too fast you’re on this bottleneck before you know it. They’ve put up a sign now because of the number of accidents.’

‘That’s right,’ Morgan said. ‘Well, imagine those two guys in the truck. In this weather it’ll be damned hot in the cab. They’ve driven over the same route dozens of times, and what with the heat and the boredom of the ride, they’ll be down on their heels. They come to the bottleneck. As they turn into the bend, they’ll see a car, smashed up against the rock, but off the road. Lying in the middle of the road will be a woman, with blood on her and looking pretty bad.’ He leaned forward, staring directly at Bleck. ‘You tell me something: what are those two guys going to do — keep going and drive over the woman or stop and find out how badly hurt she is?’

Bleck grinned. He looked at Kitson.

‘Are you listening, stupe?’ he said. ‘Some pipe dream!’

‘What are they going to do?’ Morgan repeated as Kitson shifted in his chair, his face turning red.

Bleck said, ‘They’ll stop. I guess one of them will get out of the truck and the other will use the radio to get help. That is if they are as security minded as Kitson says they are.’

Morgan looked over at Kitson.

‘What do you say? What do you think they would do?’

Kitson hesitated, then grudgingly shrugged his shoulders, he said, ‘I guess Ed’s right. Dirkson would get out of the truck and Thomas would stay where he was. Dirkson would find out how badly hurt she was, move her off the road, go back to the truck, radio for help, and then they’d go on, leaving her for the ambulance to pick up.’

‘Okay. That’s what I think too,’ Morgan said. He didn’t bother to ask Gypo his opinion. Gypo seldom expressed an opinion that was worth listening to except when it had to do with the busting of a safe or the opening of some tricky lock. ‘So we have this situation,’ Morgan went on. ‘We have one guard out of the truck and the other guard inside the truck. Now tell me something else.’ He was looking directly at Kitson. ‘Would the driver scramble the time lock and drop the steel shutters across the windows and the windshield in a situation like that?’

Kitson took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.

‘I guess not,’ he said sullenly.

Morgan looked over at Bleck.

‘What do you think?’

‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ Bleck said decisively. ‘From what Kitson says if the time lock is scrambled, it takes an expert to fix it, and this guy wouldn’t start a thing like that unless he thought the truck was in danger. He wouldn’t operate the shutters because he’d be curious to see what his pal was doing and how badly hurt the woman was.’

Morgan nodded.

‘Well, at least we’re getting somewhere. The truck has stopped and the buttons haven’t been pushed.’ He pointed a finger at Kitson. ‘That’s the situation you said wasn’t possible. You said it was crazy talk and a pipe dream. What do you say now?’

‘Where’s it going to get you anyway?’ Kitson said angrily. ‘Okay, so I was wrong, but for all the good it’s done you, I could have been right.’

Morgan blew a thin stream of smoke towards the ceiling. He now looked as if he were enjoying himself.

‘All the same I haven’t done so badly,’ he said. ‘I’ve stopped the truck and I’ve got the guard out into the open. Now imagine this bottleneck. That’s where the truck will be stopped. On each side there’s thick cover where two or three guys can hide. The guard gets out of the truck and walks to where the woman is lying. Don’t tell me in this heat those two drive for ninety-three miles with their windows shut. Do you imagine the driver will close the windows when the guard leaves him?’

Kitson again hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head.

‘I guess not.’

‘I’m damned sure not. It’ll be hot enough in that steel box without him closing the windows. Well, then, we have the truck at a standstill, close enough to the shrubs where two men can easily hide. The driver is watching through the windshield what his pal is doing. His pal is moving towards the woman. They’re not expecting trouble. This is an accident spot. There have been five bad smashes there within six months. I’ll be in the shrubs. I’ll have about ten feet between me and the truck. I’ll come out behind the truck as the guard bends over the woman, and I’ll come up to the driver’s window and stick a gun in his face. At the same time the woman sticks a gun in the guard’s face.’ He reached forward and crushed out his cigarette. ‘Now, tell me something. What are these two birds going to do? Make heroes of themselves?’

‘They could do,’ Kitson said soberly. ‘They’re good men.’

‘Okay, so they are good men, but they’re not crazy. It’s my bet they’ll give up.’

There was a long, heavy pause, then Gypo said, a slight quaver in his voice, ‘Suppose they don’t give up?’

Morgan looked over at him, his black eyes glittering.

‘The take is a million bucks; two hundred thousand each. If they don’t give up, they’ll get hurt. You can’t pick up that kind of money without someone getting pushed around a little.’

There was another pause, then Gypo said, ‘I don’t like it, Frank. Maybe it’s too big for us.’

Morgan waved his hand impatiently.

‘What are you worrying about? You won’t be there. I’ve a special job for you and it won’t be too big for you. I promise you that.’

Kitson leaned forward.

‘How about me? I’m not crazy enough to get tied up in a murder rap! Count me out!’

Morgan looked over at Bleck who was lighting a cigarette.

‘I’ve heard these two chickens: how about you?’

Bleck pursed his lips as he flicked the dead match across the room.

‘It’s my bet those two will give up. If they don’t, then it’s going to be just too bad.’

‘That’s the way I feel about it,’ Morgan said. ‘Okay, then you and me and the girl will handle it. Gypo and Kitson can handle the soft end, but their cut will come lower. We take the risks so we get more dough. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

Kitson frowned uneasily. Already the thought of what two hundred thousand dollars would mean to him was beginning to take a hold of him.

‘Well, maybe. It depends what my cut would be,’ he said.

‘A hundred and twenty-five grand,’ Morgan said promptly. ‘Because Gypo’s a technical man, he’ll get a hundred and seventy-five grand. The hundred grand you two don’t get would be split between Ed and me.’

Kitson and Gypo exchanged glances.

‘If those guys act tough, one of us or maybe one of them could get killed,’ Kitson said, breathing heavily. ‘I don’t like it. Up to now the jobs we have pulled have been small and sweet.

The worst we could have drawn could have been a year in jail, but this is a murder rap. Count me out.’

‘That’s right,’ Gypo said. ‘Count me out too.’

Morgan smiled wolfishly.

‘Okay. Let’s vote on it. The rules of this outfit are that we always vote on a job. So let’s vote.’

‘We don’t have to vote,’ Kitson said sharply. ‘It’s a tie anyway even if Ed throws in with you. Your rules say if it’s a tie we don’t do the job — remember?’

‘Sure, I remember,’ Morgan said, grinning. ‘Let’s vote all the same. Let’s keep this outfit business-like. Whatever the decision, we stick to it — right?’

Kitson shrugged.

‘Yes, but why waste time?’

Morgan pushed back his chair and stood up. His big muscular frame threw a black shadow across the table.

‘Get the voting slips ready, Gypo.’

Gypo, his moon-shaped face puzzled, produced a notebook and tore a page from it. He cut the page into four strips with a penknife and dropped the strips of paper on the table.

‘There you are, guys,’ he said. ‘Help yourselves.’

Morgan said softly, ‘Why only four, Gypo?’

Gypo stared up at him blankly.

‘It’s always four, isn’t it?’

Morgan smiled.

‘This is a five-way split — remember? The girl has a vote too.’

He walked to the door, threw it open and said, ‘Come on in, Ginny. They want to vote on this job, and I need your vote.’

II

She came out of the darkness into the hard light from the overhead lamp and stood beside Morgan, looking at the three men who stared back at her. She was young, not more than twenty-three, and slightly above average height. She had copper-coloured hair, piled to the top of her head. Her eyes were large and greenish-grey and as expressionless and as impersonal as a cupful of seawater. Her mouth was over large, her lips full and sensual, and there was an arrogant, determined tilt to her chin.

She was wearing a blood-red silk shirt tucked into a black overlap skirt. Her body was full breasted and narrow waisted. Her full hips tapered down to long, slim legs. It was a body made fashionable by Italian film stars, and it caught the three men’s attention the way a hook catches a fish.

Morgan’s black eyes roved around the faces of the three men and he grinned. He knew the girl would make an impact on them and it interested him to see just how great the impact would be.

Gypo’s hand had gone to his string red tie, adjusting it, while he peeled his thick lips off his big, dazzling white teeth in a leering smile.

Bleck, frankly startled, lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a soundless, appreciative whistle.

Kitson looked as if someone had hit him on the head with a hammer. He stared at the girl the way a tortured bull stares at a matador the moment before the estocada.

Morgan said, ‘This is Ginny Gordon.’

Bleck got to his feet. After a moment’s hesitation, Gypo also got to his feet, but Kitson sat there, his big hands into fists on the table, his eyes a little glassy, his expression still stunned.

‘Reading from right to left,’ Morgan went on, ‘is Ed Bleck who takes care of the gang when I’m out of the way. Gypo Mandini, our technical man and Alex Kitson who handles the car when we need a car.’

Kitson suddenly lumbered to his feet, nearly upsetting the table. He continued to stare at the girl, his hands still in fists.

The girl’s eyes moved quickly from face to face, then she pulled out a chair beside Morgan and sat down.

‘I’ve given the boys an outline of the plan,’ Morgan said to the girl, standing over her. ‘Two of them think it’s too big for us. Our rules are if there’s any disagreement about the job, we vote on it. So we’re going to vote.’

The girl frowned, her face suddenly puckering into a puzzled frown.

‘Too big for them?’ she repeated. ‘You mean two of them don’t want to pick up two hundred thousand dollars?’ Her voice was cold and incredulous.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Morgan said and grinned. ‘They think someone might get hurt and that bothers them.’

The girl looked at Gypo, then her greenish-grey eyes moved to Bleck, then flickered over to stare at Kitson.

‘I thought you said your outfit was good,’ she said.

The sudden scorn in her voice made Kitson flinch and turn red.

‘That’s what I said.’ Morgan’s grin widened. ‘But this is the first job we’ve planned that’s really big and two of us aren’t too happy about it.’

‘This is the big one,’ the girl said, her voice tense. ‘It pays off a million dollars. You said your outfit could handle it and I believed you, otherwise I wouldn’t have come to you. Now you are taking a vote. What is all this?’

The three men were startled. The contemptuous, reckless note in the girl’s voice angered them.

Bleck, who had the reputation of treating his women rough, said, ‘You sound a little loud, baby. Suppose you relax a little?’

The girl pushed back her chair and stood up. Her pretty face was cold and hard.

‘I guess I’ve come to the wrong address,’ she said to Morgan. ‘We’ll skip it. I’ll peddle this idea to a mob who has blood in its veins. I’m not going to waste my time talking to a bunch of powder puffs.’

She swung around on her heels and started towards the door.

Still grinning, Morgan reached out and caught hold of her arm, checking her.

‘Take it easy!’ he said. ‘These boys are okay. They’ve just got to adjust themselves. Gypo here is the best safe man in the business. Ed has nerves as good as mine. Kitson can handle a car the way no one else can. Just take it easy. You’ve caught us on the wrong foot. Maybe I shouldn’t have got around to the facts so fast. These boys are technically good, but they’re scared someone is going to get hurt.’

She stood staring at each man in turn.

‘Hurt? Who’s the dumb cluck who imagines we can pick up a million dollars without getting hurt?’ Her voice was harsh as she looked at the three men. ‘It’s a million dollars! For that kind of money I wouldn’t give a damn what happened to me or to anyone else!’

She shook off Morgan’s restraining hand, moved back under the hard light.

She looked directly at Kitson.

‘Are you scared to get your pretty skin bruised when there’s two hundred thousand dollars for the taking?’

Kitson had to make an effort to meet her steady, scornful eyes.

‘The job can’t be done,’ he said sullenly. ‘I know. I’ve worked for these people. This could be a murder rap and I don’t go for that.’

‘All right, if that’s the way you feel about it,’ the girl said, ‘we can do without your help. If you don’t want the money, now’s the time to pick up that beautiful, muscular body of yours and get out of here!’

Kitson’s face darkened and he pushed back his chair.

‘Who do you think you’re talking to? I tell you this job can’t be done! It’s a pipe dream!’

She flicked slim fingers towards the door.

‘And you are a pipe dream too. Run away, powder puff. We can handle this without you.’

Slowly, Kitson got to his feet, his breath snorting through his broken nose. He walked slowly around the table towards the girl who pivoted on her heels so she faced him.

The three men at the table watched. Bleck looked worried. He knew Kitson’s temper was unreliable. Gypo was frowning. Morgan still grinned.

‘You and nobody else talks to me that way!’ Kitson said as he confronted the girl.

They made an incongruous couple. Her head scarcely reached to the top of his shoulder, and standing in front of her, he seemed at least three times as broad as she was.

She looked at him, her expression still scornful.

‘Then in case you didn’t hear, I’ll repeat what I said,’ she said quietly. ‘Run away, powder puff. We can handle this without your help.’

Kitson made a low growling noise and he lifted his hand, threateningly.

‘Go ahead and hit me,’ the girl said. ‘I’m not scared of getting hurt!’

Morgan laughed.

Kitson dropped his hand and stepped back. He muttered under his breath and then started for the door.

‘Kitson!’ Morgan’s voice rapped out. ‘Come back here and sit down! We’ve got to vote. You walk out now, and you’re through with this outfit for good!’

Kitson hesitated, then turning slowly, his face confused and sullen, he walked back to the table and sat down.

Morgan looked at Gypo.

‘Another slip.’

Gypo took out his notebook and cut another slip of paper.

Bleck said, ‘Before we vote, Frank, I want to know more about this job. How does she get mixed up in it?’ He jerked his thumb towards Ginny.

‘For the past five months I’ve been trying to figure out how to knock over this truck,’ Morgan said, ‘and I couldn’t figure an angle. Three nights ago, she came to me and dropped the whole thing, sewn up, into my lap. It’s her idea, that’s why it’s a five-way split. She’s worked out all the angles, and I’m satisfied her plan will work.’

Bleck looked at the girl.

‘And where do you come from, baby?’ he asked. ‘What put the idea into your pretty head?’

The girl opened her cheap, shabby bag and took out a pack of cigarettes and a book of paper matches. She lit a cigarette while she regarded Bleck, her gaze cool and impersonal.

‘It’s no business of yours nor anyone else’s where I come from,’ she said curtly. ‘I thought up the idea because I want the money. While we’re on the subject, I don’t like being called baby, so drop it, will you?’

Bleck grinned. He admired a woman with spirit.

‘Sure, I’ll drop it. What made you pick on this outfit to help you with a job as big as this one?’

She pointed to Gypo.

‘Because of him. I asked around. They said he’s the best man with a lock in the district and that’s what’s needed for this job. They said you had a lot of nerve, that Morgan had a flair for organization and Kitson was the best getaway driver on the coast.’

Gypo was smiling now. He thrived on flattery. The girl is dead right, he thought. There is no better man in the lock business.

Kitson had lost his sullen expression. He now looked embarrassed, and he kept his eyes down, staring at the wet ring on the table made by his whisky glass.

‘They said? Who said?’ Bleck asked.

‘That’s neither here nor there. We’re wasting time,’ the girl said. ‘I asked around because I had to be sure I was coming to the right outfit, but it seems I could have made a mistake. If I have, then I’ll try elsewhere.’

Bleck lit a cigarette while he stared at her.

‘Well, you’ve certainly picked the toughest end of the job if you’re the one who’s going to lie in the road. Was that your idea?’

‘Of course.’

‘Let’s look at what you are taking on. You’ll be lying in the middle of the road. You’ll have a gun under you. When the guard comes up to you you’ll stick the gun in his face, correct?’

She nodded.

‘It could be rugged,’ Bleck said. ‘Two things could happen: either the guard tosses up his hands and quits or else he won’t take you seriously and makes a grab at your gun. From what I hear about this guy, he won’t give up. He’ll make a grab at your gun. Then what?’

The girl let smoke drift down her nostrils.

‘This is a million dollar take,’ she said in a cold, expressionless voice. ‘If he makes a grab at the gun, he’ll get shot.’

Gypo took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. The tip of his tongue moved over his lips as he looked uneasily at Morgan and then at Kitson.

‘This is the big one,’ Morgan said. ‘You’ve got to face up to it, guys. If you don’t like it, you can always quit.’

Bleck was studying the girl.

She’s no bluffer, he was thinking. Sweet Pete! She’s as hard as a diamond. She’ll kill the guy if he starts anything. With any luck, he’ll see it in her eyes when she shoves the heater in his face. If he does, he won’t make a move. If I were he, and found myself looking into a gun held by her, I know damn well I’d stop breathing let alone make any sudden move.

‘Okay. I just want to know which way we’re heading,’ he said, reaching for a cigarette and tapping it on the table. ‘Let’s have the rest of the plan.’

Morgan shook his head.

‘We don’t get the rest of it until we vote,’ he said. ‘That’s the arrangement. She tells me she’s taken care of all the details and ironed out all the snags. What I’ve told you just now is a sample of it. If we agree to work with her then we hear the rest of it, but if we don’t want the job, then she’s free to peddle it elsewhere. That’s fair enough. What do you say?’

‘But has she really ironed out all the snags?’ Bleck asked. ‘It seems to me there’re a hell of a lot of them. We’ve stopped the truck and we’ve fixed the driver and the guard. That in itself is something we didn’t think possible. But from what you tell me the truck is in continuous radio communication with the Agency. As soon as the truck goes off the air, a search for it will be started. They know where to look for it, and what’s more, not only the cops will come a-hunting, but the army as well, and that means hundreds of men, aircraft and cars. They have only ninety-three miles of road to check. An aircraft can cover that in a few minutes. The truck will stand out on any road like a boil on the back of your neck. We will have less than twenty minutes to get it out of sight. It might be possible if we didn’t have to stop the truck at the bottleneck. Beyond there and the other side of it is as bare of cover as the back of my hand. We’ll have to travel twenty-five miles to reach any good cover and they’ll know it and that’s where they’ll look for us. I can’t see how we can hope to stop the truck, bust it open, get the money and get away before the cops and the Army arrive.’

Morgan shrugged.

‘I thought that too.’ He nodded at the girl. ‘She says she has taken care of that angle.’

Bleck looked at Ginny.

‘Is that a fact? You really know the answer to that one?’

‘Yes,’ she said in her cold, expressionless voice. ‘That’s the hardest part. I’ve taken care of it.’

She spoke with such assurance that even Kitson, who was listening cynically, had a sudden feeling that she might swing this job.

Bleck spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders.

‘Okay, I’ll take your word for it, but you’ve certainly dreamed up a miracle. There still remain two more problems. The first is when we’ve stopped the truck what’s to prevent other traffic coming up on us just when we’re fixing the guards? This road isn’t overused, but there is traffic on it. We could be surprised.’

The girl’s face became wooden and her eyes bored as she leaned back in her chair, her scarlet shirt tightening across her full, provocative breasts.

‘That’s an easy one, isn’t it? There are two roads, both linking up with Highway 10. All we have to do is to put a diversion sign at the bottom of the road after the truck has passed and the rest of the traffic will use the other road. What’s so hard about that?’

Bleck grinned.

‘Yeah, that’s a fact. Now, bright eyes, solve this one: we have the truck and we get it under cover somehow. How do we bust it open? According to Kitson, it’s the toughest thing made. We’ll have to work fast. Have you solved that one?’

Ginny shook her head.

‘That’s his headache,’ she said and pointed to Gypo. ‘He’s the expert. I’ve fixed it he has the truck. There’s no hurry. He can work on it for a month or even two months if he has to.’ Her sea-green eyes moved to Gypo. ‘Could you open that truck if you had a month’s uninterrupted work on it?’

Gypo, inflated by the flattery he had already received, nodded eagerly.

‘I could bust into Fort Knox if I had a month’s work on it,’ he said.

‘That’s what he’ll have,’ Ginny said. ‘At least a month; more if he needs it.’

‘Okay. We’ve talked enough,’ Morgan said. ‘She’s really worked this thing out, and I’m satisfied she can handle it. Let’s vote. What you’ve got to make up your minds about is whether you are ready to get hurt or if you are prepared to hurt, and by that I mean, someone, either on our side or on the other side, could get killed. If the other side gets killed, then we all face a murder rap. Whatever happens, if no one gets hurt, and we make a slip, we face from ten to twenty years in jail. Against that, there’s the payoff. Each one of us will have two hundred thousand dollars, and that’s quite a slice of money. That’s the position. Let’s vote, unless anyone else wants to ask any more questions.’ He paused, looking at the three men. ‘Once we’ve voted, we go ahead on the decision. You all know the rules of this outfit. Whoever is outvoted, if there is a majority against him, works with us or quits for good. Don’t rush at this. The take is two hundred grand. If we make a mess of it, we land in jail for maybe twenty years or if we make even a bigger mess of it, we land on the hot seat. That’s the setup. Do you guys want a little time to think about it?’

He looked first at Bleck who was relaxed, looking at Ginny, genuine admiration in his eyes. Morgan then looked at Gypo who was staring thoughtfully down at the table, his face puckered, his thick, black eyebrows drawn down in a frown. Then he looked at Kitson who was staring at Ginny, his breath coming in short, sharp snorts through his broken nose.

‘Let’s vote,’ Bleck said and reaching forward, he picked up one of the slips of paper.

Ginny picked up another.

Morgan picked up the three remaining slips, tossed one in front of Gypo and the other in front of Kitson and then taking a ball pen from his pocket, he scribbled on the remaining slip, folded it and dropped it in the middle of the table.

Ginny borrowed his pen, scribbled on hers and laid it beside his.

Bleck had already written on his slip with a gold-capped fountain pen. He waved the slip in the air, then folded it and put it by the other two slips in the middle of the table.

Gypo spent two moments staring down at his slip. Finally, with a stub of pencil, he scrawled something on his slip, folded it and placed it with the other slips.

That left Kitson, who looked worried as he stared at his slip.

The girl and the other three watched him.

‘Take your time,’ Morgan said, the jeering note back in his voice. ‘We have all night.’

Kitson looked up, stared at him, then his eyes moved to the girl. For a long moment they regarded each other, then abruptly he picked up Morgan’s ball pen, scribbled something, folded his slip and tossed it on top of the other four.

There was a pause, then Morgan pulled the five slips towards him and unfolded one.

‘Yes.’

He unfolded another.

‘Yes.’

His fingers moving fast, he unfolded the remaining three slips.

‘Yes and yes and yes.’

He looked around the table, his thin mouth curving into its wolfish smile.

‘So we’re going to do this job. That’s the way I hoped it would work out. Two hundred thousand bucks each! Some job, but some payoff!’

Kitson looked across the table at Ginny.

She stared back at him, her chin tilted, then suddenly her expression softened and she smiled at him.