Robert Bloch - Michael Shayne Mystery Magazine. Vol. 1, No. 1. September 1956

“What idea?”

“You know what I mean. Maybe they won’t go for it.”

“Hell, they got to go for it. You’re my friend, and if I say you come in, you come in. That’s all there is to it. There ain’t no ands, ifs and buts about it.”

“But did you tell them, Randy?”

Randy stares at me, gives me a funny look and works his mouth. “To tell the truth, I didn’t think about it, Irish. It just didn’t enter my mind, but that don’t make no difference.”

“Not with us, but maybe it will with them.”

“Hell, no. We just don’t favor punks and flunkies. They’re out, and it don’t matter what color they are. You ain’t a punk or a flunkie, so you’re acceptable. Skin don’t matter. ’Cause you’re white ain’t got nothing to do with it. So pick me up at nine. You hear?”

“Yeah, I hear you, Randy.”

“Good thing. Slap me five, man.”

We slap hands and Randy cuts for his neighborhood. I go back to my own. There’s nothing to do around, so I hang on the roof and wait it out till it’s time to move.

Eight-thirty rolls around fast, and I hit for the street. It’s just starting to get dark, the streets are kind of empty and quiet, shadows coming out of everywhere.

That always gives me a funny feeling, but it’s more than that now. Not that I’m scared, but I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe Randy’ll clear it, and maybe I’ll get my head handed to me on a platter.

It’s too late to back-track now. I keep walking, and that tight feeling gets worse in my belly. A lot of crazy ideas pop in my mind, but I push them away.

Only six more blocks to go. By the time I get to Randy’s neighborhood, everything’s changed. It’s dark now, the lights are on and things are kind of noisy.

A guy steps out of a doorway. “Hey, Irish, where you walking?” he says. “Don’t you know the number?”

I turn and see it’s Randy. He’s changed his clothes and is wearing dungarees and a sweatshirt.

“You ready to meet the boys?” he asks.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Good stuff. Let’s get on. They’re waiting on the corner.”

From where we are, I can see these guys on the corner. I don’t feel so good about that, but I don’t say anything.

Randy picks me up and says, “What’s wrong, man?”

“Nothing.”

“Look, you’re with me, so you’re in like I told you. If anybody got something to say, they got to deal with me.”

“Okay, Randy.”

“Good. Hold tight, we’re reaching them.”

We’re nearing the corner. I can hear these guys talking and laughing. Then they ain’t. They’re shut, and everybody’s looking. They’re staring at me and wondering what I’m doing around here with Randy.

Randy gives them a greeting as we come up. It’s like he’s talking to a wall. His boys are still staring at me. Especially this big guy with the round head.

Next thing, the big guy puts his hands on his hips and says, “Hey, who’s this cat, Randy? What garbage can did you find him in?”

The rest of them laugh but not Randy. He puts his hands on his hips and rocks at this big guy and says, “For your information, Mr. Buster Bophead, I didn’t find him. Furthermore, he ain’t from no garbage can like some of your family’s generations.”

“Hey, you’re sounding on my family, you square punk.”

“And you’re sounding on my friend, you four-square flunkie.”

The big guy turns to me now and gives me the up-and-down like I’m a hunk of dirt.

“This is the cat you was talking about, Randy?”

“Yeah, Buster.”

“He’s the one coming along to the yards?”

“He’s the one. I didn’t have no other in mind.”

“Yeah, but this motherjumper is a white stud. You didn’t tell us that.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Randy says. “Even blindfolded, he’s as good a thief as you any day.”

The others laugh at that. It kind of breaks the ice, and Buster gives me his hand.

“Okay, man, I just hope you’re all Randy says you are. It’ll be too bad if you ain’t.”

I don’t say anything to that, and Randy takes over. He introduces me to the others. I shake with them, and they all give me a kind of suspicious look. But that’s okay. It’s the same as when I moved into my own neighborhood and met the guys. It takes a little time to feel things out in any new situation.

Right now there’s no time. “Okay,” Buster says. “Everybody ready?”

Four guys step out of the crowd. Buster turns to me. “Know where we’re going?” he asks.

“The freight yards.”

“You ever bust into any freight cars before?”

“No.”

“Hell, I thought you was supposed to be a real thief?”

“I’ve done other kinds of robbing.”

“Okay, let it pass. Now here’s the routine. You follow along and do what’s ordered. Behind that is the most important thing. Case you’re nabbed, you don’t talk, don’t give no names or nothing. It don’t matter how them cops beat you. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Good! ’Cause if you talk, you got us to deal with after, and nobody’ll ever know you when we get done chopping you up.”

“Okay, Buster,” Randy tells him. “You said your speech and my boy ain’t the talking type. So let’s go before they douse out the streetlamps.”

Buster turns away, and we start moving. I keep in step with Randy. Both of us fall a little back, and he pokes me.

“You don’t pay him too much mind,” he says. “Buster like to talk big, but he ain’t so much. Just keep it cool and show him the stuff.”

“Okay, Randy.”

“How do you feel?”

“Kind of nervous.”

“Me, too. Go out on something, and you always get that feeling. Don’t have it, and it’s no good. It’s protection.”

We keep moving, come to the park and pass through. It’s cooler now, darker here. A girl starts laughing somewhere, and Buster says out loud, “Somebody having his fun tonight.”

“Sounds like Carmen,” Randy says back.

“Who’s Carmen?” I ask Randy.

“That’s something tasty. One of them spitfire Spanish chicks. She hangs around with us.”

“Pretty?”

“Yeah, you interested?”

“I could be.”

“Okay, I’ll give you an introduction, and you can take it from there.”

We’re through the park now, moving faster. Nobody’s talking. Ahead of us, it’s real dark, but across the river, I can see lights shining, lights on the bridge and cars moving.

We come to a wall, and Buster puts up his hand. “Okay, chuck the butts,” he says. “We’re here.”

Everybody’s smoking. Next second the butts are ground out. I’m breathing a little hard, and my legs feel tight.

Buster leans over the wall and swings around. “Empty freight car just below. Okay, we jump one at a time. Anybody makes noise is going to suffer bad. When we catch what we want, we operate in twos. Two go in a car, two stay at the door for unloading and two watch at each end of the car for the yard bulls. Got it?”

Everybody’s got it. Buster vaults up on the wall, stands a second and jumps. There’s a soft thump, and the next guy goes up.

Me and Randy are last. “Hit it, boy,” Randy tells me. “I’ll follow you down.”

I hop up on the wall, look down and it’s all black. There’s like nothing below, then I make out a shadow. That’s the freight car.

“Man, hurry it,” Randy says behind me. “I hear somebody coming.”

I jump and land hard, knock my chin against my knees. A second later, Randy drops beside me.

“Hey, you like to wake up the world, Irish. What happened?”

“That drop was bigger than I thought.”

“Okay, let’s get down.”