Уильям Макгиверн: Odds Against Tomorrow

“No, thanks.” Earl sat down with his overcoat in his lap, but Burke took it away from him and said, “Let’s don’t get this wrinkled up, Earl. I’ll put it in the closet.”

“It doesn’t make a lot of difference. It’s pretty beat-up.”

Burke laughed at this too, and Earl realized he was a bit tight; not drunk but loosened up to the point where everything was striking him as mildly funny.

The room was small and cheaply furnished but the view from the double windows gave an impression of space, with thousands of bright little lights blinking far below against a big darkness.

Novak sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees, and studied Earl with a faint smile. “It’s not Buckingham Palace, is it?” he said.

“It’s okay,” Earl said, coloring faintly; he didn’t feel at ease. “It’s fine. I never stayed here, but I’ve stopped at the bar downstairs.”

“And why not?” Burke said, laughing softly. He gave Earl a dark-brown whisky and water, and said, “Why not stop at the bar, eh?”

Novak said, “Sit down, Burke, and take a load off your mind.” He was still smiling, but a thread of annoyance ran through his voice. “We might as well talk business.”

“Sure thing,” said Burke. This time he didn’t laugh; he sat down carefully and rubbed a hand over his coarse, red features. “Sure thing.”

Novak lighted a cigar, and when it was drawing smoothly he smiled through the smoke at Earl and said, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five. Why?”

“Just curious. No offense.” Novak leaned back on the bed and the overhead light touched the speculative glimmer in his little eyes. “It’s a kind of a decisive age though. At thirty-five a guy should know whether or not he’s going to make it.” He grinned at Earl’s puzzled frown, and then his eyes wandered casually over Earl’s suit and shoes. “How do you figure you’re doing? Got it made yet?”

“I don’t know.” Earl shifted his hands and feet, feeling harried and uncomfortable. “I never thought much about it. I’m not rich,” he said, grinning awkwardly; but the admission irritated him, and a confusing anger grew in his breast. “I’m doing all right, I guess,” he said, shifting his feet again, and looking down at his drink. “Right enough, anyway.”

“You’re not working, are you?”

“Well, not just now, no.”

“When did you work last?”

“Couple of months back, I guess.”

“That was the job at the Circle Garage, right?”

Earl smiled uncertainly. “How did you know that?”

“We’ve checked on you, kid,” Novak said. “When I called you this morning you didn’t know me from Adam. I mentioned a name to you, Lefty Bowers, a guy you were in jail with. That’s all you know; that I’m a friend of somebody you knew in jail. Right?”

“I guess so,” Earl said. He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s all I know.”

“I’m not trying to be mysterious,” Novak said. “I just want you to understand a few things. First, Lefty told me you were a good guy, knew how to keep your mouth shut, could drive a car.”

“Is that what you want? Somebody to drive a car?” Burke laughed and Novak glanced at him with a little frown. He said, “Get me a drink, will you, Dave?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Burke said, heaving himself to his feet. “Sure thing.”

“It’s a little more than driving,” Novak said. “That’s why we checked on you. Burke used to be a cop, and one of his old buddies helped us out.”

“A guy I knew for years,” Burke said. “A great guy.”

“It must be pretty big,” Earl said. He tried to smile. “If you went to all that trouble it must be big.”

“I hoped you’d understand that,” Novak said quietly. “It’s big enough, don’t worry. But more important, it’s safe.” He tilted his head and studied Earl through the smoke curling up from his cigar. “I’d rather try for a hundred bucks and make it than get caught going for a million. I want you to understand that. I’m a serious guy, a businessman.” He drew an envelope from his inside coat pocket and removed a thin sheaf of papers. After glancing through them for a few seconds, he said, “Well, here’s what we found: Earl Slater, born in Texas, son of a farmer. Got into the Army at sixteen by lying about your age. Tried for the paratroopers but got transferred to the infantry after a training accident.” Novak glanced at him. “Right so far?”

“I broke my leg jumping,” Earl said, trying to be casual about it, to control his confusion and excitement; but the images Novak had recalled flashed through his mind like the flickering designs of a kaleidoscope. “One of my lines fouled and I came down too fast.” He could remember the ground coming up at him, the corn stubble in the field sticking up like tiny red whiskers. They said he’d hit like an express train; the heels of his jump boots had been driven deep into the hard earth by the weight of his plunging body. He was sure he had heard the bone in his shin snap like a piece of dry kindling, but the medics told him that was just his imagination at work.

“You spent five years in the Army,” Novak said. “Pretty rough deal, eh?”

“I guess so.”

“Two years after the Army let you go you were arrested for stealing a car in Galveston. You served eight months of a two-year rap. Next time you were arrested it was for assault and battery in Mobile, Alabama, and that time—”

“Listen, I didn’t steal that car,” Earl said hotly. “I was drinking with the guy who owned it, and he told me to take it. But the bastard wouldn’t say that in court because of his wife.”

Burke laughed at this, his eyes almost disappearing in his fleshy red face, and even Novak smiled faintly. “Okay, you didn’t steal the car,” he said. “But after the three-month stretch in Mobile there was a rap for manslaughter. They hung four years on you that time.”

“It was like the car,” Earl said, with a weary, hopeless anger in his voice. “A guy in a bar came at me with a bottle. I clipped him good, and he busted his head on the bar railing. But his friends told the cop he didn’t swing the bottle.”

“Well, that was bad luck,” Novak said. “I guess you’ve had your share of it, eh?”

“You’re damned right I have,” Earl said. He glanced from Novak to Burke, feeling the pressure tightening about his chest like an iron band. He hated having people pry into his past, classify him as this, that or the other thing because of the lies they found in old dusty records. “So what about it?” he said angrily. “I’ve done time, I’m out of a job. Are you guys any better off?” He stared at Burke. “You used to be a cop, eh? Well, what happened? They dump you for boozing?”

“Now hold it, sonny,” Burke said. He didn’t sound angry, but he began to rub his big fat-looking hands together slowly. “Just hold it, eh?”

“Well, what’s the big deal?” Earl said, getting to his feet. “You’re both sitting here with a patch on your pants in a four-dollar room. You think I give a damn what you found out about me?”

“Relax,” Novak said sharply. “What we found out made us think you were right for a cut of this job. There’s nothing personal about it. So don’t go popping off.”

“Well, okay,” Earl said. He locked his hands together to control his trembling fingers. “What do you want with me?”

“It’s a bank job,” Novak said. “I’ll tell you a little about it, then you say whether you want in or not. If you want in, I’ll give you the whole deal by the numbers. If you want out—” He shrugged his big, powerful shoulders. “That’s what you get — out.”

“A bank job? You’re sticking up a bank?” Burke smiled, but he didn’t laugh. He studied Earl speculatively, his eyes glinting in pockets of puffy flesh. “It’s a small bank,” he said dryly.