James Chase - The World in My Pocket

‘Then what happens?’ Morgan asked jeeringly.

‘Once the button is punched, no one opens the door until the time lock is reset, and that’s an expert’s job.’ Kitson lit a cigarette and let the smoke drift down his wide nostrils. ‘Then there’s another thing: they carry a shortwave receiving and transmitter set in the truck, and from the moment they leave for the Research Station, they are in continuous radio communication with the Agency.’ Aware now that Morgan was grinning derisively at him, he turned his attention to Gypo and addressed him directly. ‘Look, suppose some nut tries to hold up the truck. Suppose this nut blocks the road and stops the truck. The driver and the guard automatically go into their routine. The driver punches the button that scrambles the time lock and the guard flicks down a switch that slams steel shutters over the windshield and the windows, turning the truck into a box that just can’t be bust open. Then the guard flicks down another switch on the transmitter which sets up a continuous signal. Any cop radio car can home on to this signal and no matter where the truck is, the radio car will find it. Once they’ve operated the three switches, all they have to do is to sit tight in their steel box and wait for help.’ He tapped ash off his cigarette, his hand shaking from nervous excitement. ‘Like I said: no one is going to hijack that truck. They are really organized for trouble.’

Gypo scratched the back of his neck, a sudden bored expression on his fat face. Bleck had picked up a deck of cards and was shuffling them aimlessly, his light-coloured eyes on Morgan.

‘How about the driver and the guard?’ Morgan asked. ‘Couldn’t they be got at?’

Kitson waved his hands.

‘Got at? Those two? Are you that crazy? Who’s been telling you what?’

An ugly glint came into Morgan’s eyes.

‘I asked you a question,’ he said. ‘Don’t flap with your mouth, and don’t ask me if I’m crazy. I don’t like it.’

Seeing his angry expression, Bleck said smoothly, ‘Take it easy, Frank. The kid’s doing all right. At least he seems to know what he’s talking about.’

Morgan sneered at him.

‘Yeah. Well, we’ll see.’ He looked at Kitson. ‘Go on. Tell me why these two can’t be got at.’

Kitson was beginning to sweat. Tiny beads of perspiration made his flattened nose shine in the hard light.

‘I’ve worked with them,’ he said, staring hard at Morgan. ‘I know them. The driver’s name is Dave Thomas and the guard is Mike Dirkson. They are tough and keen and quick with a gun. They know if they defeat a holdup, they will get a two thousand dollar bonus each. They know there’s no way of busting open the truck to get at the payroll so they wouldn’t be that crazy to throw in with us and lose a regular job that pays off. These two are on the beam. You’ll find that out fast enough if you start something with them.’

Gypo broke in, ‘If it’s going to be that tough, I don’t want anything to do with it. Okay, two hundred grand is fine, but no money is big enough if you ain’t alive to spend it.’

Morgan smiled.

Gypo was a defeatist. He had his qualities, but guts and staying power weren’t his strong points. He was a technical man. There were few locks that his sensitive fingers couldn’t master. He had opened many impossible locks in his time, but he had always worked in an atmosphere of quiet. He had never been called on to work under pressure, and Morgan knew this job would be working under the greatest possible pressure. He wondered if Gypo would make the grade. He had enough confidence in himself to be sure he could talk Gypo into tackling the job, but that didn’t mean much. When the time came: when the cards were down and the pressure was on, everything would depend on Gypo’s skill. If his nerves blew up, then the job would blow up too.

‘Relax,’ he said, putting his hand on Gypo’s shoulder. ‘Since we four ganged up, I’ve steered you all into good jobs. Right?’

Gypo nodded while the other two stared at Morgan, waiting.

‘Not big stuff,’ Morgan went on, ‘but you all had some dough. But sooner or later the cops are going to get wise to us. We can’t go on and on pulling little jobs for peanut money without getting a rumble. So I figure we should try the big one, collect the dough, break up the mob and go our own ways. Two hundred thousand can buy a lot of fun. The world is in our pockets with that kind of dough. This job can be done. It’s just a matter of working on it. I know it’s tough. Kitson has given you most of the dope. What he says is right, but he’s forgotten one thing.’ He looked at the three men, seeing Gypo was uneasy, Kitson obstinate and scared, Bleck still indifferent, still waiting to be convinced. ‘What he forgot to tell you is that this new truck has been on the hoof now five months, week in and out, and everyone believes it is foolproof. Everyone, including Kitson, is sold on the idea that no one in his right mind would try to grab the truck. When you get that kind of idea into your head, you lower your guard and your chin’s uncovered. It only needs a quick right-hand punch, and you’re licked.’

He deliberately used the parlance of the ring because he wanted to catch Kitson’s interest. He had to have him as well as Gypo on his side. He saw he had been successful. Kitson was now looking less obstinate and more interested.

‘Everything Kitson has told you about the truck I read in papers months ago,’ Morgan went on. ‘These guys were so cocky about their truck they gave it wide publicity. They are certain no one can bust into it, and they figure the more details they give out about it, the tougher they make it sound, the more business they’ll drum up for the agency. Ever since I read about that truck, I’ve had it at the back of my mind to bust it. We can do it if you guys have the guts to work with me. It’ll need guts, but don’t forget the payoff is two hundred grand each.’

Bleck crushed out his cigarette and immediately lit another.

He was staring at Morgan, his pale eyes narrowed.

‘And you’ve got an angle?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ Morgan lit a cigarette, blowing smoke across the table towards Gypo. ‘I’ve got an angle. At least we have plenty of time to think about it. That truck is going to deliver a million bucks to the Research Station every week now for five years, and maybe longer. I admit they are organized for trouble, but as the weeks go by, they are going to get less watchful, less alert, and that’s when we step in and sock them.’

‘Now, wait a moment,’ Kitson said, leaning forward, his face flushing. ‘This is a lot of crap. How long does it take a guy, even if he is half-asleep to press a button? Two seconds? Certainly not more. Six seconds to press three buttons, then the truck turns into a steel tortoise and there’s nothing you nor anyone else can do about it. Do you imagine you can stop that truck, break open the door and handle the driver and guard in six seconds? Talk sense! This is a goddamn pipe dream!’

‘You think so?’ Morgan said jeeringly.

‘I know so! Stop that truck, and before you can get within a yard of it, the steel shutters will be down, the time lock scrambled and the radio screaming for help!’

‘Sure?’ Morgan said and his jeering smile made Kitson itch to hit him.

‘I’m sure, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise,’ Kitson said, controlling his temper with difficulty.

‘Suppose you pipe down and let Frank give us his angle?’ Bleck said. ‘If you think you’ve got better brains than he has, then why the hell don’t you run this outfit?’

Kitson flushed scarlet, shrugged angrily and tilted back his chair. He looked sullenly at Bleck and then at Morgan.