The World in My Pocket

‘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