Lionel White - Invitation to Violence

The stuff was up there, in the store next door, and all they had to do was go in and get it. The only thing which bothered him at all was the knowledge that the Pinkerton man was up there also. It wasn’t as though he was a real cop, but Dommie knew that he carried a gun and had a license to use it. Dommie just hoped that the business with the gas would work out all right.

He shook his head and muttered an oath under his breath. The hell with it; it wouldn’t get him anywhere worrying about things. He went back to thinking about girls. Man, this little deal was going to make it a lot simpler. Money, plenty of money, could solve any problem. Especially the girl problem.

Jake, on the other hand, made a conscientious effort to keep his mind off anything but the immediate work in front of them. He didn’t want to think about young Sammy or young Sammy’s mother. Somehow, sitting here waiting to pull the job, it just didn’t seem right to think of your wife and your son.

His mind went to the place next door and what he knew was in that place. And it was there all right. He’d seen the stuff only that morning, soon after the store had opened.

God, a quarter of a million in jewels! And out here in the sticks. It just hadn’t seemed possible. But of course it was possible and the stuff was there, just where the newspapers had said it would be. It certainly made an impressive display. And for a lousy little local jewelry store in the center of a shopping center.

Of course it was true that the store was a branch of a big important Fifth Avenue store and the stuff was only there as a sort of publicity stunt during opening week, but still and all. It was really something. No wonder they kept the private cop on duty day and night.

That certainly wasn’t a part of the publicity stunt. After all, neighborhood jewelry shops aren’t exactly equipped to carry a quarter of a million in ice in their tin safes. And it was a lucky thing they weren’t, too. Otherwise he and these punks wouldn’t be sitting here waiting around to take it away.

Dommie suddenly spoke, his voice sounding hollow in the confines of the small room.

“Must be at least an hour by now,” he said.

“Shut up,” Jake quickly growled. “No talking. Hasn’t been more’n about fifteen, twenty minutes. Just sit tight and shut up.”

Vince coughed and quickly covered his mouth. He knew Jake would be only too well aware of exactly what time it was, watch or no watch. He himself knew that the picture upstairs would be off at around eleven-fifteen; that the place would be cleared out within another ten to fifteen minutes. Candy was the one who would close up. He was the last man out. Candy could be counted on. He’d be down to get them a couple of minutes before he was ready to lock up for the night. And then they’d have exactly five minutes to get out and get the stuff from the car and get back inside again.

Candy returned at exactly twenty minutes to twelve. He knocked very softly on the door and a second later opened it and entered. He waited until he was inside before he switched on the flashlight. He’d changed from his usher’s uniform to his street clothes.

“O.K,” he said. “Let’s go. I wanna get out of here and get home as soon as possible and get my alibi set. I’m the one they’re goin’ to be questioning an’ I gotta be ready.”

He used a small pencil flash and they followed him upstairs. Back at the exit door, Vince stayed behind with Candy as Dommie and Jake returned to the car.

Jake was careful to make sure that the parking lot was empty and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Ford sedan sitting alone against the fence.

Quickly they went to the car and Jake unlocked the door and reached in for the suitcase, handing it to Dommie.

“Take this and the guns,” he said, “and be careful. Give ’em to Vince and get right back. I can handle the tank alone, but I’ll need help with the hose and the tools.”

As Dommie left, Jake closed the door and then went around to the front of the car and lifted the hood. He put the brace under it and returned to the rear of the sedan, opening the trunk. By the time Dommie had returned, he’d removed the steel tank and was taking out the coiled-up hose.

He closed the trunk and turned and followed Dommie back to the EXIT door of the theater, carrying the tank carefully in both arms. Dommie had the hose draped over his shoulder.

“You left the hood up,” Dommie whispered.

“Sure I left it up,” Jake said in a low, irritated voice. “The cops check this lot two or three times a night. Looking for kids who come in here for little parties. They see the car with the hood up, they won’t bother it. They’ll figure some guy had trouble. Anyway, don’t worry. Just get moving.”

Back in the theater, Jake waited until Candy had once again closed and locked the doors.

“Grab one of the bags,” he said.

“Not me, boy,” he said. “I ain’t got no gloves on an’ I ain’t leaving no prints on nothing.”

He led the way once more, this time turning halfway down the hall and entering the theater proper from a side door. The others followed him with their burdens. They went up the aisle and just before coming to the end of the long rows of seats, Candy stopped for a second.

“I’m turning off the light now,” he said. “We’re going into the lobby and anyone going by can see the reflection. You have to work it in the dark.”

He went on and they passed through the double doors.

Two red lights over exit doors leading off the lobby, kept burning twenty-four hours a day, cast a dim, eerie light and they could just barely make out each other’s shadowy figures.

“You all are on your own,” Candy said. Once more he moved off like a disembodied ghost, and a second later they heard the slam of the outside door and then the sharp click of the lock as Candy pulled it tight.

Jake gently put the tank on the floor and took a small spot flashlight from his pocket.

“No talking now,” he said. As he spoke he switched on the light aiming it up on the wall to his left where he knew the vent would be. The fight was on for only a split second but in that brief moment they all saw it. The grilled vent which led outside, but which they knew was only a few inches from a similar vent leading into the building next door.

“Get the hose attached and then hand me the end of it,” Jake said. “Vince, you find a damned chair or something I can stand on. And both of you be careful not to hit the valve on that tank. One mistake and they’ll find us all laying here when they open up for the matinee tomorrow afternoon.”

Five minutes later Jake stepped down from the leather seat of the chair.

“She’s in,” he said, “in and I got her plugged up around the hose as well as I can. But you better get the gas masks ready, just in case.”

He leaned down and fumbled around for a minute and then found the valve on the gas tank. Quickly he turned it on full.

“O.K,” he said, “back into the theater now. Get the tools out and have everything set. We got time, but we want everything ready. We’ll give it another twenty-five minutes, just to be on the safe side. If that Pinkerton hasn’t passed out by then, nothing will ever knock him over.”

He turned the flash on his wrist watch.

“At exactly a quarter to one we start breaking through the wall. I figure twenty minutes for that at the most. And be damned sure to keep the masks on.”

Once again he flicked on the light and quickly looked at the others.

“Dommie,” he said, “get the chopper out. Get out into the lobby and stay right there. Stay where you can watch the street. Anything suspicious, just the two short whistles. If anything happens once we get into the jewelry store, I expect you to stay right there and cover us until we get a chance to get out. Remember one thing, it’ll only take us five minutes once we get through the wall.”