James Chase - The World in My Pocket

‘Aw, shut up!’ Bleck shouted violently. ‘Don’t start that again!’

But he was worried. He realized that Gypo was talking sense. The thought of being cooped up in this oven of a caravan for another three or four weeks appalled even him.

Gypo had slumped down on the stool again, holding his hand to his aching face as he stared hopelessly at the dial.

‘Could you cut the door open?’ Bleck asked.

‘Here? Impossible! People would see the flame through the curtain. Then think of the heat! The caravan would catch fire.’

‘Suppose we take the caravan up into the mountains? Frank said we might have to do that, and it looks to me that’s what we’ll have to do,’ Bleck said. ‘Then you can work with the back of the caravan open. It would be okay like that, wouldn’t it?’

Gypo took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his bleeding cheek.

‘I’ve had enough. I want to go home. No one’s going to open that sonofabitch — no one!’

‘We’ll talk to the other two,’ Bleck said, a rasp in his voice. ‘Where are your guts? There’s a million bucks behind that door! A million bucks! Think of it!’

‘I wouldn’t care if there were twenty million,’ Gypo said, his voice shaking. ‘I’ve had enough, I tell you! Can’t you understand English?’

‘Relax, will you?’ Bleck said, sitting on the floor. ‘We’ll talk to the other two.’

Unaware of Gypo’s crack up, Ginny and Kitson were returning from town, some fifteen miles from the caravan camp, after an afternoon’s shopping.

They had decided it would be unsafe to shop any more at the store on the camp. The storekeeper was certain to notice the amount of food they were buying and would know it couldn’t have been for two people, so now they did a daily run into town.

During the past two days, Ginny and Kitson had been constantly in each other’s company. Ginny was still trying to make up her mind whether to join up with Kitson when they got the money. She knew he was in love with her and she found that she was growing to like him. Unlike Bleck, there was nothing dangerous about him and she felt safe with him.

As they drove along the highway, heading back to the caravan camp, she kept glancing at him. Apart from his broken nose, he was quite handsome, she thought, and she had a sudden urge to confide in him

‘Alex.’

Kitson glanced at her and then back to the road. When he had her by his side, he was a very careful driver.

‘Yeah? Something bothering you?’

‘Well, yes.’ She lifted her copper-coloured hair off her shoulders and then let it drop back into place. ‘You asked me once how I knew about the truck and the payroll. Do you still want to know?’

Kitson was surprised, ‘Well, I’ve wondered, but it’s no business of mine,’ he said. ‘What made you think of that?’

‘You’ve been pretty nice to me,’ Ginny said. ‘Most men in your place would have been troublesome. I appreciate it, I want you to know I’m not a gangster’s moll.’

Kitson shook his head, ‘I never thought that.’

‘Morgan did. He thought I had stolen the plan from a mob I had been working with and brought it to him for a bigger share. He didn’t say so, but I knew that’s what he thought.’

Kitson shifted uncomfortably. He knew that was exactly what Frank had thought.

‘Well, maybe. I didn’t.’

‘I knew about the payroll and the truck because my father was the gate man at the Research Station,’ Ginny said quietly.

‘He was?’ Kitson gave her a quick look. ‘Yeah, so you would know about it.’

‘I’m not trying to whitewash myself,’ Ginny said, leaning her head back against the seat. ‘My mother was no good. I guess I have a lot of her badness in me. She left my father when I was ten. She was always talking about money, telling me without it, I’d never do anything. My father was a good man, but he didn’t earn much. He was good to me, but that didn’t stop me having an itch for money. As I grew up, the itch got worse. It tormented me. I never had any decent clothes. I seldom went to the movies. I used to spend all my time staring into the windows of the luxury shops, envying people who could buy what I saw there and what I wanted. My father often talked about the payroll, and I often dreamed of having all that money. Then the new truck arrived. My father thought they were crazy not to insure the payroll any longer. He said it wouldn’t be so hard to hijack the truck. He and I used to discuss it. It was his idea to hide the truck in a caravan. Don’t imagine he ever thought of doing such a thing. There was nothing like that about him, but it made me think and the idea of grabbing that truck became an obsession with me.’

Kitson was driving slowly now and listening. He watched the sun, like a red ball of fire, dip behind the mountains.

‘My father was a sick man,’ Ginny went on, lacing her fingers over one knee. ‘He had two years to go before he got his pension, and he tried to hang on, but in the end he had to quit.

They gave him time off, but when he wasn’t well enough to come back when they thought he should, they sacked him, and away went his pension. I went to see the staff manager to explain, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He treated me as if I were a beggar. So, when my father died, I decided I would get even. I would be killing two birds with one stone: I’d settle the score and I’d become rich. I had the plan all worked out in my mind and I had to find someone to help me. I was in a cafe one night, and I overheard some men talking about Morgan. From what they said, I decided he was the one to go to. So I went to him. That’s the story. It was my father’s plan, but he would never have used it.’

‘I’m sorry for your father,’ Kitson said.

‘Yes.’ He saw her hands suddenly turn into fists. ‘I’m sorry I ever started this, Alex. I know I’m hard and bad and money loving. I know all that, but I didn’t think it was going to be like this. It’s so easy to talk about killing a man. You see it on the movies and it doesn’t seem anything, but when it really happens.’

‘Look, Ginny,’ Kitson’s voice was suddenly urgent. ‘Why don’t you and me quit? We could go to Mexico. If we cleared out right now, we stand a chance of getting away with it. Why don’t we do that?’

She hesitated, then shook her head.

‘No! I’m not going to quit now. The time to have quitted was before we killed the guard and the driver and before Morgan died. I’m going through with this now, Alex. But you quit. I’d like to see you out of this, but I’m going through with it. We still have a chance of getting the money. What have I to lose now? But you quit, Alex. You should never have been in this anyway.’ She looked at him. ‘Why did you? You didn’t want to. I could see that. Why did you vote for it?’

Kitson shrugged his shoulders.

‘Because of you,’ he said. ‘You meant something to me from the moment I saw you.’

‘I’m sorry, Alex. I’m really sorry.’

‘Look, if we get the money, couldn’t we join up together?’ Kitson asked, staring hard at the road as it came towards him. ‘I love you, Ginny. You’re the only girl who has ever meant anything to me.’

‘I don’t know, Alex. Perhaps. Let’s wait until we get the money. I’m scared of complications. Will you let me think about it?’

Kitson nearly drove off the road, he was so surprised.

‘You really mean there’s a chance you might, Ginny?’

She patted his arm.

‘Let me think about it, Alex.’

It was dark by the time they got back to the caravan camp.

Kitson, elated by the talk he had had with Ginny, dumped the groceries in the kitchen and then went across to the caravan. The lake side was deserted. It was safe enough to let Bleck and Gypo out. As he watched them come from the caravan he knew something was wrong.