Блейк Крауч - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, No. 5. Whole No. 813, May 2009

I did the math. Forty-four people not counting Jane, the driver, and me. Suppose the average tourist had five hundred dollars in cash or traveler’s checks. That meant over twenty grand, not counting watches, credit cards, cell phones, iPods, rings, and jewels. I didn’t have any connections in Boston to fence stuff, but I knew people who could point me in the right direction.

I invited Jane to walk down the beach with me while a catering crew set up a picnic buffet at a shorefront pavilion at Revere Beach. I tied my laces together, slung my shoes over my shoulder, and rolled up my pants so I didn’t have to worry about getting my feet wet. Jane looped her arm in mine again as we strolled. Wet sand seeped between my toes. A guy could get used to this, I thought, banishing the warning bells clanging in the back of my mind.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked when we reached a huge stone on the shoreline. I clambered onto it and pulled her up after me. She snuggled between my legs facing away from me and wrapped my arm around her. In the distance we could just make out her sheep, who were, ironically, dining on roast lamb. My stomach rumbled, but I didn’t let one human need get in the way of another. I hugged her close and nuzzled her hair. She melted into me. Her breasts weighed heavily on my arm. Her breathing seemed faster and deeper than before, but it was hard to separate hers from mine.

“How does five hundred a person sound, from each of your... baaaaa?”

She giggled. “At least. We still have five days left to go. They usually save money for big purchases at the end so they don’t have to drag things around for the whole trip.”

I nodded against her and upgraded my estimate to a thousand per person in cash. My stint as an insurance adjuster had sharpened my forgery skills, so I didn’t mind traveler’s checks, either. Along with the jewelry and other valuables, even at ten cents on the dollar I was looking at maybe fifty grand.

“I’ll need a gun.”

She nodded and hugged my right arm tightly, raising it up over her breasts. The thought of a nice chunk of change in her future seemed to turn her on.

“And a place to stay. I don’t have much money with me.” None, actually, but I saw no reason to let her know that.

“You can stay in my room if you don’t let anyone see you,” she said, which was exactly what I’d hoped. She caressed my arm in long, slow strokes and I wondered if she could feel me pressing into her lower back. I cupped her breast gently and did a little stroking of my own as the sun met the horizon and sent a river of gold streaming across the water’s surface toward us. A few nuzzling kisses on her neck just below her right ear and she turned into putty.

“Can you spot me some cash for the gun?” I whispered into her ear.

She moaned a response that I interpreted as assent. My left hand slipped under her short skirt. Her breathing accelerated quickly and her entire body trembled against mine a few minutes later, sealing the deal. I could have asked for a Learjet.

The next morning I awoke an hour before dawn. Jet lag still had me messed up and I hadn’t managed much sleep, what with tracking down a gun and keeping up with Jane and all. When I stirred, she rolled against me and tried to get something going again but I pushed her gently back onto the sheets and rewarded her with a long kiss before sliding out of bed and into the shower. Always leave them wanting more. I learned that long ago. Later, when she woke up fully, her body would be alive with energy, nerves tingling, lust lighting a furnace in her belly. My every wish would be her command.

During a quiet interlude at about three in the morning, Jane had outlined the day ahead. After breakfast, the bus would depart for a scenic drive on the Kancamagus Highway through White Mountain National Forest. Before lunch, we’d pull off onto a scenic overlook — the perfect spot for a hijacking.

The shower’s warm pulse reenergized me. When I emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Jane was awake, leaning on one arm, a thin sheet draped enticingly across her naked torso. I sat on the bed beside her for a moment but when she got that dewy look in her eyes I waggled my thumb at the clock and told her I had to go. “You don’t want the sheep seeing me sneaking out of here.” She stuck out her lower lip, but nodded.

I stole her pillowcases for loot, tucked the pistol in my waistband, gave her a smoldering kiss full of promise, and crept out of the room like a thief in the night. Not far from the truth, I guess.

I made a phone call, then had breakfast, a hearty buffet with lots of meat and grease to keep a body going, charging it to Jane’s room. She sauntered in after everyone else was seated and adorned her plate with fruit and a croissant — enough food to last me about ten minutes. We exchanged one lingering glance before I returned my attention to the Milton Dreyfuses of Wichita, Kansas. He was a retired investment counselor. The gaudy gems his wife wore made me upgrade my estimate of the potential windfall by another ten grand.

My heart took on a familiar rhythm, beating rapidly but solidly in anticipation of the day ahead. Adrenaline was my friend. I never felt quite as alive as I did when the job was about to go down.

Jane kept her distance once everyone was on board the bus. We’d agreed it was best if people didn’t see us together too much from that point on. She struck up conversations with several passengers and laughed easily at whatever they said. She was glowing, and I knew it wasn’t just from the sex. It was the thrill of the hunt. Once the gun came out, she’d pretend to be as alarmed as everyone else, but hot blood would course through her veins. She’d be thinking about our rendezvous later that night, where she’d count the money several times and try on some of the jewelry. High on adrenaline, her heart beating twice as fast as normal, she would momentarily cast thoughts of the booty aside and reward me until the sun came up.

Of course, by the time she got to the motel where we’d agreed to meet, I’d be back in Boston, swapping gems and electronics for cash with the guy who’d sold me the gun the night before. Her confusion would turn to panic — and then to fury when she realized that not only did she not have ten or twenty grand coming her way, she was out a few hundred for the gun.

And then she would start answering the police’s questions.

The East Coast wouldn’t be big enough for the two of us after that, so I had a reservation on Lufthansa. Ten hours after the heist I’d be in Munich, where I knew a guy who knew a guy who’d set me up for a while. I’d settle with El Gordo and use whatever I had left — fifty or sixty grand if all went according to plan — to enjoy the mountain air and Bavarian beer for a few months.

I tried to sleep, but people kept stopping by to chat. Everyone acted as if I’d been with the group all along instead of just since the day before. Jane kept a respectful distance, though she batted her eyes at me on the way to the back of the bus to get brochures for one of her sheep.

At the two-hour mark I started getting antsy, ready for the whole thing to be over. Before boarding, I’d transferred the gun to one of the pillowcases, which would soon be filled with cash and other valuables. I thrummed my fingers against the armrest and chewed on the inside of my mouth, habits I used to sucker people at the poker table but which were difficult to control at times like these.

Twenty minutes later, Jane made another trip to the rear of the bus for brochures. She dropped one in the aisle next to my seat and knelt to pick it up without looking my way. My five-minute warning. I looked out the window at the scenery and realized we were reaching the top of Kancamagus Pass. The view of the White Mountains was impressive, I suppose, but I had no time for that now. I grabbed the pillowcases and made my way to the front of the bus.