James Chase - The World in My Pocket

‘Okay, but I tell you it can’t be done,’ he said.

Bleck looked over at Morgan.

‘Go ahead and tell us how you figure to work it, Frank.’

‘Yesterday I took a look at the route from the Agency to the Research Station,’ Morgan said. ‘It’s quite a trip: ninety-three miles by the clock. Seventy of these miles are on the highway, twenty on a secondary road, ten on a dirt road and three on a private road leading directly to the Research Station. I was looking for a place where we could stop the truck. The highway is out. The secondary road is out too. The traffic on both these roads is continuous and heavy. The private road is guarded night and day so that’s out too. That leaves us with the dirt road.’ He flicked ash off his cigarette, screwing up his black eyes as he stared around at the three men facing him. ‘Ten miles of road. Four miles from the secondary road and up the dirt road, there’s a branch road leading to Highway 10. Most of the traffic, and it isn’t heavy, uses the road past the Research Station gates because it is a better road and two miles shorter than the other dirt road. A couple of miles before you get to the Research Station gates there’s a bottleneck made by two big rocks either side of the road. Besides the rocks, there are a lot of scrub bushes. It’s a pretty good place for an ambush or an accident.’

Bleck nodded.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’ve been over that road myself and I very nearly had a pile-up there. If you take the bend too fast you’re on this bottleneck before you know it. They’ve put up a sign now because of the number of accidents.’

‘That’s right,’ Morgan said. ‘Well, imagine those two guys in the truck. In this weather it’ll be damned hot in the cab. They’ve driven over the same route dozens of times, and what with the heat and the boredom of the ride, they’ll be down on their heels. They come to the bottleneck. As they turn into the bend, they’ll see a car, smashed up against the rock, but off the road. Lying in the middle of the road will be a woman, with blood on her and looking pretty bad.’ He leaned forward, staring directly at Bleck. ‘You tell me something: what are those two guys going to do — keep going and drive over the woman or stop and find out how badly hurt she is?’

Bleck grinned. He looked at Kitson.

‘Are you listening, stupe?’ he said. ‘Some pipe dream!’

‘What are they going to do?’ Morgan repeated as Kitson shifted in his chair, his face turning red.

Bleck said, ‘They’ll stop. I guess one of them will get out of the truck and the other will use the radio to get help. That is if they are as security minded as Kitson says they are.’

Morgan looked over at Kitson.

‘What do you say? What do you think they would do?’

Kitson hesitated, then grudgingly shrugged his shoulders, he said, ‘I guess Ed’s right. Dirkson would get out of the truck and Thomas would stay where he was. Dirkson would find out how badly hurt she was, move her off the road, go back to the truck, radio for help, and then they’d go on, leaving her for the ambulance to pick up.’

‘Okay. That’s what I think too,’ Morgan said. He didn’t bother to ask Gypo his opinion. Gypo seldom expressed an opinion that was worth listening to except when it had to do with the busting of a safe or the opening of some tricky lock. ‘So we have this situation,’ Morgan went on. ‘We have one guard out of the truck and the other guard inside the truck. Now tell me something else.’ He was looking directly at Kitson. ‘Would the driver scramble the time lock and drop the steel shutters across the windows and the windshield in a situation like that?’

Kitson took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.

‘I guess not,’ he said sullenly.

Morgan looked over at Bleck.

‘What do you think?’

‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ Bleck said decisively. ‘From what Kitson says if the time lock is scrambled, it takes an expert to fix it, and this guy wouldn’t start a thing like that unless he thought the truck was in danger. He wouldn’t operate the shutters because he’d be curious to see what his pal was doing and how badly hurt the woman was.’

Morgan nodded.

‘Well, at least we’re getting somewhere. The truck has stopped and the buttons haven’t been pushed.’ He pointed a finger at Kitson. ‘That’s the situation you said wasn’t possible. You said it was crazy talk and a pipe dream. What do you say now?’

‘Where’s it going to get you anyway?’ Kitson said angrily. ‘Okay, so I was wrong, but for all the good it’s done you, I could have been right.’

Morgan blew a thin stream of smoke towards the ceiling. He now looked as if he were enjoying himself.

‘All the same I haven’t done so badly,’ he said. ‘I’ve stopped the truck and I’ve got the guard out into the open. Now imagine this bottleneck. That’s where the truck will be stopped. On each side there’s thick cover where two or three guys can hide. The guard gets out of the truck and walks to where the woman is lying. Don’t tell me in this heat those two drive for ninety-three miles with their windows shut. Do you imagine the driver will close the windows when the guard leaves him?’

Kitson again hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head.

‘I guess not.’

‘I’m damned sure not. It’ll be hot enough in that steel box without him closing the windows. Well, then, we have the truck at a standstill, close enough to the shrubs where two men can easily hide. The driver is watching through the windshield what his pal is doing. His pal is moving towards the woman. They’re not expecting trouble. This is an accident spot. There have been five bad smashes there within six months. I’ll be in the shrubs. I’ll have about ten feet between me and the truck. I’ll come out behind the truck as the guard bends over the woman, and I’ll come up to the driver’s window and stick a gun in his face. At the same time the woman sticks a gun in the guard’s face.’ He reached forward and crushed out his cigarette. ‘Now, tell me something. What are these two birds going to do? Make heroes of themselves?’

‘They could do,’ Kitson said soberly. ‘They’re good men.’

‘Okay, so they are good men, but they’re not crazy. It’s my bet they’ll give up.’

There was a long, heavy pause, then Gypo said, a slight quaver in his voice, ‘Suppose they don’t give up?’

Morgan looked over at him, his black eyes glittering.

‘The take is a million bucks; two hundred thousand each. If they don’t give up, they’ll get hurt. You can’t pick up that kind of money without someone getting pushed around a little.’

There was another pause, then Gypo said, ‘I don’t like it, Frank. Maybe it’s too big for us.’

Morgan waved his hand impatiently.

‘What are you worrying about? You won’t be there. I’ve a special job for you and it won’t be too big for you. I promise you that.’

Kitson leaned forward.

‘How about me? I’m not crazy enough to get tied up in a murder rap! Count me out!’

Morgan looked over at Bleck who was lighting a cigarette.

‘I’ve heard these two chickens: how about you?’

Bleck pursed his lips as he flicked the dead match across the room.

‘It’s my bet those two will give up. If they don’t, then it’s going to be just too bad.’

‘That’s the way I feel about it,’ Morgan said. ‘Okay, then you and me and the girl will handle it. Gypo and Kitson can handle the soft end, but their cut will come lower. We take the risks so we get more dough. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

Kitson frowned uneasily. Already the thought of what two hundred thousand dollars would mean to him was beginning to take a hold of him.