Peter Rabe - A Shroud for Jesso

“You’re giving me ideas,” Jesso said.

George made an exasperated swing with one arm, sighed. “Jesso, you talk like an ass. There are some deals too big for one man to handle. You’d be twisted out of shape.”

“I’ve been doing all right.”

“Have you got your dough?”

“No.”

“So don’t talk.”

Jesso thought about that.

“Jesso, there are details to this deal that you as one man, or me, or Ralph over there, couldn’t handle alone. You didn’t know, for instance, that your info isn’t any good after a couple of months, did you? You didn’t know the plants change models, that they produce in periods instead of at a steady rate-all things that you never heard of, that I only know by name, and that I mention just to impress you. Then there’s the problem of getting bids for the merchandise. You don’t know under what phony company transactions these deals are handled, how the money is moved without attracting attention.”

“I’m impressed. Come to the point.”

“The point is simple. Sell to our combine and your troubles are over.”

“How much?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“I can’t even hear you.”

“Cash, Jesso. Cash in small bills, right here on the train, and we can make it seventy-five. Whaddaya say?”

“I say crap.”

“I told you,” Ralph said.

George leaned over to Jesso and sounded tired. “Look, Jesso, you know how it is. We’re supposed to argue. We’re just hired to do a job. But we’re authorized to go to one hundred grand. That’s all we got, Jesso, honest.”

“Go back where you came from. Kator pays me more.”

“Have you got it?”

Jesso thought about that.

“You don’t know Kator very well, do you, Jesso?”

They waited while Jesso just sat and they gave him all the time he wanted.

“You got it here?”

“Right on this train.”

“Show me.”

Ralph sighed around his pipe and George looked relieved.

“Honest, Jesso, you won’t regret this. Grab your swag and get out of a field you know nothing about.” They walked down the corridor. “We know your rep and everything in New York and so forth, but this is different. Christ, you don’t even know any languages, I bet, except Brooklynese.”

“He don’t sound Brooklynese,” said Ralph.

“Ralph, your mouth. You’re gonna hiccup one day, and fall in. Look, Jesso, I’m just making a figure of speech. I’m trying to show you-“

“You know what you can show me, so stop bending my ear.”

They kept still, both of them, and Jesso followed George down the corridor. Ralph was behind him.

They had a compartment too. It was just like the one where he and Renette were staying, and it made things nice and familiar. Jesso watched George unlock the door and waved Ralph to step through. He himself went in last.

“I’ll lock this door,” he said, and made a noise with the slide. His other hand pressed one of the buttons that kept the bolt from locking.

“I told you he’d be suspicious,” Ralph said, but he was grinning this time. He pulled a suitcase out from under the seat. “Come here and count it.”

“Put it on the seat. I’ll count it from here.”

George spoke up and his voice was apologetic as hell. “Jesso, look. I know how you feel, and you got every right. But let’s play it even. We got all this dough and you got a gun. Your hand’s in your pocket again. So let me get my cannon, see, right here in my coat, and I keep it in my pocket and you keep yours there. You know how it is, Jesso, so don’t misunderstand. If we knew each-“

“I get it.” He made a noise in his pocket.

“So I’ll just get my-”

“Never mind. This is crazy enough as it is. Here, take mine, and keep it till I leave.” He tossed his gun over to George, who caught it, grinned, and dropped it into his pocket.

“No hard feelings, Jesso. You know how it is.”

“So open the suitcase.”

Ralph hefted the two-suiter onto the seat and clicked the locks open. He threw back the cover, lifted the underwear off, and there were the bundles.

They were tens, twenties, and a row of fifties, some dog-eared and held by a rubber band, some stiff and clean, still with the bank wrappers around them. It was a sight.

“Count them out on the seat,” Jesso said.

“In bills?”

“In bundles is good enough.”

Ralph did, and there was one hundred thousand. Jesso grinned and shook his head. “I never saw such a bunch,” he said. “Believe me, fellers, I never saw such a bunch.”

They grinned and nodded too. Ralph put the bills back in the suitcase.

“So whaddaya say, Jesso?” George folded his arms over his chest.

“My, my,” said Jesso. “Myomy”

Ralph made a laugh. “Guess I can close it, huh?” He closed it.

“You’ll take it, huh?” George was laughing.

“I guess I will,” laughed Jesso.

“So pick it up,” said Ralph, and they all laughed at each other.

When they stopped, it was almost as if on cue.

Jesso said, “Push it over here,” and his voice was different.

Ralph looked at George. He was refolding his arms, “You forgot to tell us your story, Jesso.”

“So I did.”

They waited.

“Push it over here.”

“Your story, Jesso.”

There was the silence again, except that they all heard the singing and clacking of the train. It hadn’t occurred to Jesso before, but this train made a constant clack on the tracks. American trains didn’t clack like that. They must join the rails differently.

“The story,” he said. “Do you know the story I told Kator? The wrong one?”

“No.”

“If I told you the same one, you’d never know.”

“Not until later. We’d find you and you’d end up dead.”

“I can see that.”

They heard the clacking again and the wind rushing by the window.

“The right story, then,” and he told them the one he had fed to Kator. “The upper left half and the lower right half of the two columns of figures give the production of the thing they make at Honeywell.”

And they did nothing. Ralph didn’t kick the suitcase over because he knew Jesso was lying. George kept his arms folded because to shoot Jesso would keep them from ever knowing. They couldn’t have figured any of this, except that Kator had told them.

“I was kidding, fellows.” Jesso looked at his shoe. He lifted his foot and rubbed the shoe against his pants leg. Then he looked at the shine he’d made. “You know how it is, fellows.” He laughed, looked at the shoe again. “If you’ll kick the suitcase over, like security, sort of-”

Ralph pushed it up to Jesso’s feet and George unfolded his arms.

“We understand, Jesso. I’ll even toss your gun over there.” He took it out, threw it on the seat.

“You understand,” said Jesso, and he looked apologetic. He held it on his face for fear he’d break up and laugh. He still looked that way when he told them, “The upper halves of both columns make up the figures you want. Honeywell.”

He bent down then, slowly, and picked up the suitcase. It wasn’t heavy. He still moved slowly when he straightened up and caught Ralph reaching over for the gun. When it came around, pointed, he couldn’t hold it any longer and burst out laughing. Then the gun went click and click and click. Jesso was still laughing when he threw the suitcase at Ralph, and even though it was light there was force behind it and Ralph stumbled back so that George had to catch him. The door was open and they heard Jesso laughing down the corridor.

But he didn’t keep it up. By the time he was racing through the next car there was only the fast clack of the wheels and his own breathing. You don’t know Kator much, George had said. He should know and he had been right. Kator had figured there’d be these two jovial fellows, countrymen, all ready with the pile of real live money. And that’s one thing Americans can’t resist, Kator must have figured. And then when he’d told them the right story they’d shoot. Kator had tried that one before and figured wrong, but he wasn’t going to be wrong about the part with the money.