You've Got It Coming

II

A week later, a few minutes after eight o'clock, Glorie came from the bathroom into her bedroom where Harry lay sleeping. She moved quietly so as not to disturb him, and sitting before the triple mirrors on her dressing table, she began to brush her hair.

It was only when you lived with people that you really got to know them, she thought looking at Harry in the reflection of the mirrors. The experiment had worked out better than she had hoped, but she was worried about him.

He had said he would get work to carry them over, but he hadn't. It was she who had managed to get a job as a manicurist at the Star hotel, a couple of blocks from her apartment. She wasn't making more than fifteen to twenty dollars a week, but it was better than nothing.

She wished Harry would take job-hunting more seriously. He seldom got up before eleven, then he would spend the rest of the morning studying the situations vacant ads in the paper. He would mark two or three of them and then wander out in the afternoon to see what was being offered.

He would come back soon after six, depressed and surly tempered, saying that he wasn't going to work for thirty bucks a week.

“Take a job like that, Glorie,” he told her, “and you're sunk. You get a thirty-buck mentality. I've got to stick out for something better.”

But she knew this was an excuse to refuse the jobs he was offered. She realized now that his world was in the air, and he couldn't bring himself to accept a job that would kill for good any chance of getting back into the air.

The thing about him that really alarmed her was his methods of getting credit from the local shopkeepers. It was almost as if he were dishonest, she thought uneasily. Although he wasn't earning a cent, every Friday when she returned from the hotel, she found a sack of groceries on the kitchen table and enough meat to last the week, as well as two bottles of Scotch.

“But, Harry, you can't go on running up bills like this!” she had protested. “We'll have to pay some time.”

He had laughed.

“Forget it! I may be a dud at finding a job but I've got a lot of talent for getting credit. If these suckers let me have the stuff why should we worry? They think I'm waiting for a rich uncle to die. I told them he's worth forty grand and I'm going to inherit the lot. If they're suckers enough to believe a yarn like that, why should I care? Besides, I'm not going to live on you. You pay the rent and I'll supply the food. That's the least I can do.”

It worried her too that there were times when he was moody and sullen, and she was quick to realize these moods of depression coincided with the time when he used to be on duty, taking his aircraft off the runway on the flight to San Francisco. Although he didn't talk about it, she knew how much he missed his aircraft and the company of the men he used to fly with.

She tried to persuade him to go out to the airfield and see his old crew.

“Not likely,” he said, flushing. “Those guys respected me. I bet they think I'm a four-letter man now. No; they wouldn't want to see me.”

She put down her hairbrush, got up and took off her wrap. As she slid into her dress and began to close the fasteners, she became aware that Harry was awake and was watching her.

She smiled at him.

“Shall I get you your coffee? I have the time.”

“No, thanks. I'll get it myself in a little while.” He reached for a cigarette and sat up slowly. “You know, Glorie, I've been watching you while you were brushing your hair. Living with me seems to agree with you.” He grinned. “You're looking prettier, younger and happier. It does me good to look at you.”

She knew what he was saying was true. Living with him had made her feel younger and happier, but she would have been happier still if he had been contented in mind. This seemed to her to be the opportunity she had been waiting for to tackle him about himself.

“I wish I could say the same of you, Harry. You don't look happy. I'm worried about you.”

He shifted his eyes.

“There's nothing to be worried about. I'll get a break soon. It's just one of those things.”

She came over to the bed and sat by his side.

“I feel if you don't get a job soon, you'll get to hate the sight of me,” she said.

“Don't talk nonsense. You're the last person I'd hate the sight of.” He looked at her as if he were trying to make up his mind about something, then he went on: “How would you like to come away with me to Paris and London and Rome?”

“Why, Harry, I'd love it,” she said, bewildered. “It would be wonderful, but what has Paris, London and Rome to do with us for goodness sake?”

“How would you like to own a million bucks?” he went on, his fingers gripping her wrist.

“I'd like that too. How would you like to be President of the United States?” she said, forcing a laugh. There was a look in his eyes that was beginning to frighten her.

“I'm serious, Glorie,” he said. “I wouldn't joke about a thing like that. I know where I can lay my hands on three million bucks. If I could find someone to handle the deal, I could clean up at least a million, probably more.”

“But, darling . . .”

“I know. Okay, take it easy. Don't look so scared. Listen, Glorie, I'm fed up trying to find a job. I've had time recently to do some thinking. You are right when you said being a crew captain led nowhere. The world is made up of smart guys who get rich and suckers who stay poor. I've been a sucker too long: now, I'm going to be smart. I know where I can put my hands on three million bucks, so I'm going to take them.”

She felt the blood drain out of her face.

“Take them? What do you mean?”

He lay back on the pillow and looked at her. The reckless, I-don't-give-a-damn expression in his eyes turned her cold.

“Let's get this straight, Glorie. You've been good to me. I owe you a lot. You're the only one I feel I can trust and rely on. If I pull this job off I want you to share in the profits. I'm not going to rush into it without being absolutely sure I can get away with it. I wouldn't touch it if I thought I'd slip up somewhere. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble; not after what you've done for me. I've got the set-up more or less worked out. There are two things I'll have to take care of. If I can find a way of taking care of them, then we'll be sitting pretty for the rest of our lives.”

“Harry, darling,” she said breathlessly, her heart beating wildly. “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm sorry if I'm being stupid, but I just don't know what this is all about.”

“Of course you don't,” he said, and patted her hand. “I'm going to tell you, but before I do you've got to promise to keep it to yourself.”

She suddenly felt as if she wanted to be sick.

“You're not thinking of doing anything that will get you into trouble with the police, are you?” she said.

His heavy brows came down in a scowling frown. The sulky, angry look she had seen so often came into his eyes.

“Okay, let's forget it,” he said impatiently. “This isn't the time to talk about it, anyway. You'd better finish dressing or you'll be late.” He swung out of bed, pushing her hand away. “I'm going to get some coffee,” he went on, and walked into the kitchen.

For a long moment she sat on the bed motionless, her hands pressing her breasts. Then she stood up, went to the dressing table, quickly ran a comb through her hair, finished fastening her dress and walked into the kitchen where Harry was heating up some coffee.

“Please tell me what you are going to do, Harry,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Maybe I'd better keep it to myself,” he said, but she could see he was going to tell her. “Now look, I don't want you to start belly aching that I shouldn't do it. I've made up my mind to do it and no one's going to stop me, and that includes you. When I've got the money I'm going to London, then Paris and then Rome. I'm going to move around, have myself a good time, and then I'm going to buy myself into one of these small air-taxi businesses. I'll get me a partnership so I can develop the business and fly when I feel like it. That's the job I want, and that's the job I'm going to have.”

“I see.” Glorie said.

“When I get this money,” he went on, “I'm either going to travel with you or without you. That's up to you. If you don't want to come with me, say so. If you want to come, well, that's fine, because I can't think of anyone I'd like more than you to travel Europe with.” He filled a cup with coffee and sat on the kitchen table, looking at her. “You have time to make up your mind, and I'm sorry if I seem to be holding a pistol to your head. I don't mean to do that, but I'm going ahead with this idea. It's my only chance now to get back into the air. I've got to be my own boss, and that means I've got to have capital. There's a place at my side for you if you want it, otherwise I'll travel alone.”

She tried to keep calm, but fear had hold of her; sick, cold fear that made her tremble.

“What do you plan to do, Harry?” she asked, going over to the kitchen stool and sitting on it.

“On the 25th of this month,” Harry said, “a consignment of diamonds is being flown in one of the Californian Air Transport kites to San Francisco for shipment to Tokyo. I know because I was going to fly the kite. The diamonds are worth three million bucks. I'm going to grab them.”

She felt as if a splinter of ice had been driven into her heart.

He must be crazy, she thought. Diamonds! Three million dollars’ worth! He would be caught and he would go to prison for twenty years, probably longer. He would be nearly fifty when he came out and she ... she shuddered to think what would have become of her in twenty years' time.

“Don't look like that,” he said sharply. “I know what you're thinking. You think I'll get caught, don't you? Well, I'm not moving in unless I'm sure I have a fifty to one chance of getting away with it. I'm pretty sure now that I can get away with it, but in another week I'll know for sure.”

“But, Harry, is it worth the risk?” she said, trying to speak quietly. “How often does anyone get away with a big robbery? Wouldn't it be better . . . ?”

“You don't know the setup. This one's going to take everyone by surprise. It's never been done before.” His face was alight with excitement. She had never seen him look like this before. “I'm going to hijack the plane!”

She stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“What I say,” he said impatiently. “This is the setup. The diamonds will be put on the usual passenger plane. No one's supposed to know about them, except the old man and the pilot. I will have booked a seat on the plane and will travel as a passenger. There will be two other guys travelling with me. Once we get clear of the airfield, we'll go into action. The two guys will take care of the passengers and the crew. I'll take over the kite and fly her into the desert. I'll bring her down where a car will be waiting, take the diamonds and beat it. There's an airfield not far away. I'll have my seat booked and I'll fix it to catch a plane from there to Mexico. Everything will depend on speed. The alarm won’t be out until I'm halfway to Mexico, and by then it'll be too late. I can lose myself in Mexico until I get rid of the diamonds. That's something I've got to get down to. I've got to find someone to handle the diamonds.”

Listening to this dangerous and ridiculous plan, she could scarcely believe he could have any confidence in it.

“But surely that is the first thing you must do. You can't steal three million dollars’ worth of diamonds unless you know for certain who will take them and how much he will pay you for them. Do you think anyone will take them, Harry? It's such a big amount, and the police will be looking for them. Who will take the risk of handling them?”

“Of course someone will take them if the price is right,” Harry said irritably.

“But you want a million for them. You said so.”

Harry scowled at her.

“You're not deliberately trying to put me off, are you?”

“But you don't seem to have thought of the difficulties.”

“I haven't stopped thinking of them,” he said angrily. “Of course there are difficulties. A job like this can't be plain sailing, but I'll fix the difficulties. There's bound to be someone in Mexico who'll handle the stuff.”

She began to breathe more easily now. It was such a stupid, badly thought-out plan that she felt sure she could persuade him to give it up if she handled him carefully.

“But will you find anyone?” she asked. “You can't walk around asking anyone if he'll buy three million . . .”

“I know! I know!” he said, his voice shooting up. “It's something I've got to work out.”

“And what about these two men who are going to help you? Who will they be?”

“I don't know yet. I've got to find them. I'm going downtown this morning and I'll have a look around.”

“But Harry! You can't find men to steal diamonds like you find something in a shop. If you approach the wrong one, he'll tell the police. Oh, Harry, darling, can't you see it won’t work? You must see! You're not a crook. Don't you see you can't handle a job as big as this without an organization behind you? You can't do it!”

Harry looked at her, then a slow grin spread over his face.

“Well, don't get so worked up about it, Glorie,” he said. “That's sound sense. An organization would be swell, but at the same time I'd have to share my profits, wouldn't I? And how am I to find an organization?”

She had an unpleasant feeling that he was pulling her leg, and she looked sharply at him.

“But you will have these other two men to pay, and there will be the man in the car,” she said.

“Yeah, that's right. Well, okay, I'll have to think about it again, won’t I? I'll have to put some more work in on it.” He looked over at the kitchen clock. “Hey! Isn't it time you went to work? We don't want to lose our one and only job, do we?”

“Yes, I must go.” Glorie started to her feet. “Listen, Harry, let's talk about this again tonight. Promise me you won’t do anything until tonight. Don't go talking to anyone. Promise me, Harry. Let's work it out tonight when I get back.”

“Okay, baby. I'll wait until you get back.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “But you do think it's a good idea apart from the difficulties?”

She touched his face with her fingertips.

“There are lots of good ideas. It depends so much on whether they work out or not.”

“Yeah, I guess that's right. Well, you've given me something more to think about, baby. You get off or you'll be late.” He turned her, patted her and pushed her to the door. “See you tonight.”

When she had gone, he finished his coffee, poured himself another cup and carried it into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair while he stared down at his slippered feet. There was a half-sly, half-jeering smile on his face as he thought of what Glorie had said. His plan was working out the way he thought it would. She had absorbed the first shock. Tonight she would be ready to discuss the details and find more faults with the plan. He was pretty sure, now that he had given her the impression that the scheme was half-baked and that he had overlooked the main snags that he could talk her into doing what he wanted her to do.

When he had finished his coffee, he stood up and went over to the chest of drawers. He pulled open the lower drawer and took out a bundle of letters and photographs.

A couple of days ago he had wanted a fresh towel, and not knowing where she kept them, he had made a systematic search of all the drawers in her bedroom. He had come across this bundle of letters tucked away under a neatly folded pile of underwear.

Because he had nothing to do and was bored, he had taken the letters into the sitting room and had read them.

He had had no misgivings about reading Glorie's letters. He saw no wrong in that, and he wouldn't have cared if she had found some of his letters and had read them.

He had found them to be old love letters, dated three years back, and written by a man who signed himself Ben. They were fiery letters that slowly cooled as the dates on the letters progressed.

The final letter told Harry that the brush off was near, and he had shaken his head, feeling sorry for her. It wasn't until he had looked at the photographs that he suddenly became interested. Ben Delaney's photographs had appeared so often in the Press that Harry recognized him immediately.

He now took one of these photographs from the bundle and carried it over to the window and looked at it.

Delaney appeared to be a small, dapper man with cold, steady eyes, a closely clipped moustache and nondescript features.

Across the bottom of the photograph he had scrawled: For Glorie, my wonderful girl, Ben.

Harry flicked the photograph with his fingernail as he stared at it. Who would have imagined that at one time Glorie had been the girlfriend of one of the most powerful and dangerous racketeers in California? Unbelievable, but what a bit of luck!

Harry smiled as he slid the photograph into his wallet. He returned the bundle to its hiding place. Then, whistling softly, he went into the bathroom to take a shower.