Trouble in Paradise

Thirty-Eight

He had them together in Faye’s living room for the last meeting.

“You got the bridge rigged?” Macklin said to Fran.

“Yep, JD and I been under there all week.”

“How long will it take you to blow?”

“From the time you say go? A minute.”

“Yacht club landing?”

“Yep. Pretended I was working on a boat.”

“How about the phone lines?” Macklin said.

“Same thing,” JD said. “I hit the cut-off switch, and they’re dead.”

“Which kills the alarms.”

“Yes. But it won’t kill cell phones,” JD said. “Or car phones. You can’t cut the island off completely. Somebody’s going to make a call.”

“It’s about odds, JD,” Macklin said. “It’ll probably be a while before anyone gets to a cell phone. We try to buy as much time as we can before they find out. When they do find out, if we’re not done then, Fran dumps the bridge. Then it’ll be another while until they can get boats organized. And it’s a lot easier to keep the cops pinned down if they’re coming in a boat. Sooner or later they’ll get there. But we only need about twenty-four hours. And if we have to, we buy time with hostages. Everything we’re doing is temporary. We delay them for a day. We buy ourselves twenty-four hours, and we can clean the island out and be gone. I like our odds.”

At the periphery of the group, which was where he always was, Faye thought, Crow smiled slightly, as if he knew a joke no one else knew.

“I don’t like our odds,” JD said.

“Well, of course,” Macklin said. “Nobody likes odds, for crissake. Everybody likes a sure thing. But there isn’t any sure thing. All there is are good chances and bad ones. This is a good chance. A good chance here to be rich for the rest of our lives. Is that worth taking a run at?”

“I got four kids,” Fran said.

“And you got a chance to make them rich,” Macklin said. “We got a great plan, we got the best guys for the job, and it’s time to do it.”

No one said anything. Crow was still smiling slightly.

“Can’t have anybody pulling out now,” Macklin said.

“Nobody’s pulling out,” Fran said.

“ ’Course not,” Macklin said. “Just the precombat jitters before we hit the beach.”

Faye realized suddenly that Crow was looking at her. She met his look, and she realized that he knew what she knew. She knew that Jimmy was never the planner he thought he was, that now he was riding the crest of a manic wave that would sweep him right into the operation. She had tried over the months to rein him in and keep him grounded, but she knew finally she couldn’t. He loved the action too much. He loved to be the leader. He loved to think of himself as a kind of master strategist, coolly going into battle with exactly the right troops, with every detail meticulously covered, with the enemy outwitted. But she knew better. Jimmy managed to get the feeling without actually doing it. Like masturbation. And she realized for the first time that Crow knew the same thing she did. That Jimmy was maybe more George Custer than U. S. Grant. Mostly he got by on craziness and courage. The sandwich platter was empty, and Faye picked it up and took it to the kitchen. Crow drifted out behind her and got some ice from the freezer and added it to his glass. He leaned on the counter and sipped his drink.

“Can you pull this off?” Faye said.

Crow shrugged. “Jimmy thinks so,” he said.

“Jimmy’s enthusiastic,” Faye said.

Crow smiled.

“Maybe it’s not as sure a thing,” Faye said.

“Maybe.”

“You scared that it’ll go bad?”

“I’m not scared,” Crow said.

“But you think it might go bad.”

“Might.”

“So why are you in it?”

“Why not?” Crow said.

Faye looked at him for a while and knew that there was too big a gulf for her to bridge. All she could do was ask.

“If it goes bad, will you look out for him as much as you can?”

Crow smiled at her.

“Sure,” he said.

Faye finished arranging more sandwiches on the platter. Crow swirled the ice slowly in his glass.

“You’d be better off with somebody else, Faye.”

“I love him,” she said.

“Appears so,” Crow said.

They continued to stand, with their private knowledge holding them.

“You’re going to go through with it,” Faye said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Lot of money,” Crow said.

“Just that?”

“And I said I would.”

“And if it goes bad?”

Crow shrugged and smiled down at her.

“Might be a good day for dying,” he said and took a sandwich off the platter.