Mario Puzo - Fools die

We walked through the gate onto the field to the plane. But we didn’t board. Cully waited until a loaded baggage truck came around the terminal building. We could see our huge brassbound case sitting on top. We watched while the laborers loaded it into the belly of the plane. Then we boarded.

It was over four hours’ ride to Hong Kong. Cully was nervous and I beat him for another four thousand in gin. While we were playing I asked him some questions.

“You told me we were leaving tomorrow,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cully said. “But Fummiro got the money ready sooner than I figured.”

I knew he was full of shit. “I loved that geisha party,” I said.

Cully grunted. He pretended to study his cards, but I knew his mind wasn’t on the game. “Fucking high school cunt teasing party,” he said. “That geisha stuff is bullshit, I'll take Vegas.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I thought it was charming. But I have to admit that little treat I got afterward was better.”

Cully forgot about his cards. “What treat?” he said.

I told him about the girls in the mansion. Cully grinned. “That was Fummiro. You lucky son of a bitch. And I was outrunning around all night.” He paused for a moment. “So you finally broke. I’ll bet that’s the first time you’ve been unfaithful to that broad you got in LA.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But what the hell, anything over three thousand miles away doesn’t count.”

When we landed in Hong Kong, Cully said, “You go on to the baggage area and wait for the case. I’ll stick by the plane until they unload. Then I’ll follow the luggage truck. That way no sneak thief can pinch it.”

I walked quickly through the terminal to the baggage carousel. The terminal was thronged, but the faces were different from those in Japan though still mostly Oriental. The carousel started to turn and I watched intently for the brass bound case to come down the chute. After ten minutes I wondered why Cully had not appeared. I glanced around, thankful that none of the people were wearing gauze masks; those things had spooked me. But I didn’t see anybody who looked dangerous.

Then the brassbound suitcase shot out of the chute. I grabbed it as it went by. It was still heavy. I checked it to make sure it had not been knifed open. As I did so, I noticed a tiny square name tag attached to the handle. It bore the legend “John Merlyn,” and under the name my home address and passport number. I finally knew why Cully asked me to come to Japan. If anybody went to jail, it would be me.

I sat on the case and about three minutes later Cully appeared. He beamed with satisfaction when he saw me. “Great,” he said. “I have a cab waiting. Let’s get to the bank.” And this time he picked up the case and without any trouble carried it out of the terminal.

The cab went down winding side streets thronged with people. I didn’t say anything. I owed Cully a big favor and now I’d evened him out. I felt hurt that he had deceived me and exposed me to such risk, but Gronevelt would have been proud of him. And out of the same tradition I decided not to tell Cully what I knew. He must have anticipated I would find out. He’d have a story ready.

The cab stopped in front of a ramshackle building on a main street. The window had gold lettering which read “Futaba International Bank.” On both sides of the door were two uniformed men with submachine guns.

“Tough town, this Hong Kong,” Cully said, nodding at the guards. He carried the case into the bank himself.

Inside, Cully went down the hail and knocked on a door, and then we went in. A small Eurasian with a beard beamed at Cully and shook his hand. Cully introduced me, but the name was a strange combination of syllables. Then the Eurasian led us farther down the hail into a huge room with a long conference table. Cully threw the case on the table and unlocked it. I have to admit the sight was impressive. It was filled with crisp Japanese currency, black print on gray-blue paper.

The Eurasian picked up a phone and barked out some orders in, I guess, Chinese. A few minutes later the room was filled with bank clerks. Fifteen of them, all in those black shiny suits. They pounced on the suitcase. It took all of them over three hours to count and tabulate the money, recount it and check it again. Then the Eurasian took us back into his office and made out a sheaf of papers, which he signed, stamped with official seals and then handed over to Cully. Cully looked the papers over and put them in his pocket. The packet of documents was the “little” receipt.

Finally we were standing in the sunlit street outside the bank. Cully was tremendously excited. “We’ve done it,” he said. “We’re home free.”

I shook my head. “How could you take such a risk?” I said. “It’s a crazy way to handle so much money.”

Cully smiled at me. “What the hell kind of business do you think it is running a Vegas casino? It’s all risk. I’ve got a risky job. And on this I had a big percentage going with me.”

When we got into a cab, Cully instructed the driver to take us to the airport. “Jesus,” I said, “we go halfway across the world and I don’t even get to eat a meal in Hong Kong?”

“Let’s not press our luck,” Cully said. “Somebody may think we still have the money. Let’s just get the hell home.”

On the long plane ride back to the States, Cully got very lucky and won back seven of the ten grand he owed me. He would have won it all back if I hadn’t quit. “Come on,” he said. “Give me a chance to get even. Be fair.”

I looked at him straight in the eye. “No,” I said, “I want to outsmart you just once on this trip.”

That shook him up a little and he let me sleep the rest of the way back to Los Angeles. I kept him company while he was waiting for his flight to Vegas. While I was sleeping, he had been thinking things over and he must have figured I saw the name plate on the case.

“Listen,” he said. “You have to believe me. If you had gotten into trouble on this trip, me and Gronevelt and Fummiro would have gotten you out. But I appreciate what you did. I couldn’t have made the trip without you, I didn’t have the nerve.”

I laughed. “You owe me three grand from the gin,” I said. “Just put it in the Xanadu cage and I’ll use it for a baccarat stake.”

“Sure thing,” Cully said. “Listen,” he said. “Is that the only way you can cheat on your broads and feel safe, with three thousand miles between them? The world isn’t big enough to cheat more than two more times.”

We both laughed and shook hands before he got on the plane. He was still my buddy, old Countdown Cully, I just couldn’t trust him all the way. I had always known what he was and accepted his friendship. How could I be angry when he was true to his character?

I walked through the LA terminal of Western Airlines and stopped by the phones. I had to call Janelle and tell her I was in town. I wondered if I should tell her I had been in Japan, but I decided not to. I would act in the Gronevelt tradition. And then I remembered something else. I didn’t have any presents from the Orient for Valerie and the kids.

In a way it’s interesting being crazy about somebody who’s no longer crazy about you. You go sort of blind and deaf. Or choose to. It was nearly a year before I heard the almost inaudible tick of Janelle dealing seconds, and yet I had had plenty of warnings, plenty of hints.

On one of my trips back to Los Angeles my plane got in a half hour early. Janelle always met me, but she wasn’t there and I walked through the terminal and waited outside. In the back of my head, way back, I was thinking I would catch her at something. I didn’t know what. Maybe a guy she had picked up for a drink while waiting for the plane. Maybe dropping off another boyfriend catching a plane out of Los Angeles, anything. I was not your trusting lover.