Donald Westlake - The Hot Rock

Dortmunder said to Kelp, "Any other way down out of there?"

"Probably. This is the only public way."

"Okay. Murch, you stay down here in case they get through us. If they do, follow them but don't try anything on your own. Kelp, is Chefwick still in the phone booth?"

"No, he said he was going to the O. J. We can leave messages there now."

"Fine. Murch, if somebody comes down and you follow him, leave us a message at the O. J. as soon as you can."

"Right."

The other three rode the escalator upstairs, emerging on a dark carpet in a dark open area. The maitre d's lectern, some doweling, and a lot of artificial plants separated this area from the main dining room. The maitre d' himself, armed with a French accent less charming than the young lady's at Air France, approached and asked them how many they were. Dortmunder said, "We'll wait for the rest of our party before going in."

"Certainly, sir." The maitre d' bowed himself away.

Kelp said, "There they are."

Dortmunder looked through the plastic leaves. The dining room was large, and very nearly empty. At a table in the middle distance, beside a window, sat Major Iko and Prosker and three sturdy young black men. They were having a leisurely dinner, the time now being just a little past five, with over two hours left before their flight.

Kelp said, "I don't like bracing them here. Too public, and too boxed in."

"I agree," Dortmunder said. "All right, we'll wait for them downstairs." He turned and started away.

Greenwood said, "I'll be with you in a minute. Private business."

Dortmunder and Kelp went on ahead, and a minute later Greenwood caught up with them. They filled Murch in, and then the four of them spread out around the waiting room, all keeping their eyes on the escalator to the Golden Door.

It was nearly six o'clock, and afternoon had turned to night outside the terminal's windows when the Major and Prosker and the other three finally came down from dinner. Dortmunder immediately got to his feet and walked toward them. When they saw him, and were still staring in astonishment, he put a big smile on his face, stuck his hand out, and advanced quickly, crying, "Major! What a surprise! It's great to see you again!"

He had reached the group by now, and he grasped the Major's limp hand and started to pump it. Keeping the big smile on his face, he said softly, "The others are all around. If you don't want shooting, just stand still."

Prosker had already been looking around, and now he said, "By God, there they are!"

"Dortmunder," the Major said, "I'm sure we can talk this over."

"You're damn right we can," Dortmunder said. "Just the two of us. No lawyers, no bodyguards."

"You wouldn't get - violent."

"Not me, Major," Dortmunder said. "But I don't know about the others. Greenwood would shoot down Prosker first, that's only natural, but I think Kelp would go first for you."

Prosker said, "You wouldn't dare start anything like that in a crowded place like this."

"Perfect place for it," Dortmunder said. "Shooting. Panic. We mix in with everybody else. Easiest place in the world to hide is in a crowd."

The Major said, "Prosker, don't try to make him prove himself, it has the ring of truth."

"So it does, damn it," said Prosker. "All right, Dortmunder, what do you want? More money?"

"We can't afford a hundred seventy-five thousand," the Major said. "It just wouldn't be possible."

"Two hundred thousand," Dortmunder reminded him. "The price went up back at caper number three. But I don't want to talk in front of all these other people. Come on."

"Come on? Come on where?"

"We're just going to talk," Dortmunder said. "These people can stand here, and my people will stay where they are, and you and me are going over there and talk. Come on."

The Major was very reluctant, but Dortmunder was insistent, and finally the Major started to move. Dortmunder said to the others over his shoulder, "Just stay right here, and you won't start any posthumous panics."

Dortmunder and the Major strolled away down the long corridor overlooking customs, with the duty-free shops on one side of the corridor and on the other side the railing where people can stand and look down at their returning relatives and visiting foreign friends being degraded.

The Major said, "Dortmunder, Talabwo is a poor country. I can get you some more money, but not two hundred thousand dollars. Perhaps fifty thousand, another ten thousand per man. But we just couldn't afford any more."

"So you figured this doublecross from the beginning," Dortmunder said.

"I won't lie to you," the Major said.

Back in the main waiting room, Prosker was saying to the three black men, "If we take off in four different directions, they won't dare shoot."

"We don't want to die," one of the black men said, and the others nodded agreement.

"They won't shoot, damn it!" Prosker insisted. "Don't you know what Dortmunder's up to? He's going to take the emerald away from the Major!"

The black men looked at one another.

"If you don't go help the Major," Prosker said, "and Dortmunder gets that emerald away from him, you'll get worse than shot and you know it."

The black men looked worried.

"I'll count three," Prosker said, "and on three we'll take off in different directions, then all circle around and go down that way after Dortmunder and the Major. I'll go back and to the left, you go straight ahead, you go at an angle to the left that way, and you go right. You all ready?"

They hated it, but the thought of the Major in a bad mood was even worse. Reluctantly they nodded.

"One," Prosker said. He could see Greenwood sitting behind a copy of the Daily News way over there. "Two," he said. In another direction he could see Kelp. "Three," he said, and started to run. The black men went on standing there a second or two longer, and then they began to run.

Running people in an airline terminal tend not to be noticed very much, but these four had started so abruptly that a dozen people looked after them in astonishment. Kelp and Greenwood and Murch looked after them too, and then all of a sudden they started running, toward one another, for a quick conference.

In the meantime, Dortmunder and the Major were still walking down the corridor, Dortmunder trying to find an unpopulated corner in which to relieve the Major of the emerald and the Major talking on at great length about the poverty of Talabwo, his regret at trying to dupe Dortmunder, and his desire to make amends to the best of his ability.

A distant voice cried, "Dortmunder!" Recognizing it as Kelp's voice, Dortmunder turned and saw two of the black men pelting his way, bouncing customs-oglers left and right.

The Major thought he was going to join the track team, but Dortmunder closed a hand on his elbow and locked it there. He looked around, and just ahead was a closed golden door marked "No Admittance" in black letters. Dortmunder pulled, the door opened, he shoved the Major through and followed him, and there they were at the top of a grimy gray staircase.

The Major said, "Dortmunder, I give you my word-"

"I don't want your word, I want that stone."

"Do you think I'd carry it?"

"That's exactly what you'd do with it, you wouldn't let it out of your sight till you were home free." Dortmunder pulled out Greenwood's revolver and shoved it into the Major's stomach. "It'll take longer if I have to search your body."

"Dortmunder-"

"Shut up and give me the emerald! I don't have time for lies!"

The Major looked in Dortmunder's face, inches from his own, and said, "I'll pay you all the money, I'll-"

"You'll die, damn you! Give me the emerald!"

"All right, all right!" The Major was babbling now, caught up in Dortmunder's urgency. "You hold on to it," he said, pulling the black plush box from his jacket pocket. "There won't be any other buyers. Hold on to it, I'll get in touch with you, I'll find the money to pay you."