James Chase: You've Got It Coming

“What do you plan to do, Harry?” she asked, going over to the kitchen stool and sitting on it.

“On the 25th of this month,” Harry said, “a consignment of diamonds is being flown in one of the Californian Air Transport kites to San Francisco for shipment to Tokyo. I know because I was going to fly the kite. The diamonds are worth three million bucks. I'm going to grab them.”

She felt as if a splinter of ice had been driven into her heart.

He must be crazy, she thought. Diamonds! Three million dollars’ worth! He would be caught and he would go to prison for twenty years, probably longer. He would be nearly fifty when he came out and she ... she shuddered to think what would have become of her in twenty years' time.

“Don't look like that,” he said sharply. “I know what you're thinking. You think I'll get caught, don't you? Well, I'm not moving in unless I'm sure I have a fifty to one chance of getting away with it. I'm pretty sure now that I can get away with it, but in another week I'll know for sure.”

“But, Harry, is it worth the risk?” she said, trying to speak quietly. “How often does anyone get away with a big robbery? Wouldn't it be better . . . ?”

“You don't know the setup. This one's going to take everyone by surprise. It's never been done before.” His face was alight with excitement. She had never seen him look like this before. “I'm going to hijack the plane!”

She stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“What I say,” he said impatiently. “This is the setup. The diamonds will be put on the usual passenger plane. No one's supposed to know about them, except the old man and the pilot. I will have booked a seat on the plane and will travel as a passenger. There will be two other guys travelling with me. Once we get clear of the airfield, we'll go into action. The two guys will take care of the passengers and the crew. I'll take over the kite and fly her into the desert. I'll bring her down where a car will be waiting, take the diamonds and beat it. There's an airfield not far away. I'll have my seat booked and I'll fix it to catch a plane from there to Mexico. Everything will depend on speed. The alarm won’t be out until I'm halfway to Mexico, and by then it'll be too late. I can lose myself in Mexico until I get rid of the diamonds. That's something I've got to get down to. I've got to find someone to handle the diamonds.”

Listening to this dangerous and ridiculous plan, she could scarcely believe he could have any confidence in it.

“But surely that is the first thing you must do. You can't steal three million dollars’ worth of diamonds unless you know for certain who will take them and how much he will pay you for them. Do you think anyone will take them, Harry? It's such a big amount, and the police will be looking for them. Who will take the risk of handling them?”

“Of course someone will take them if the price is right,” Harry said irritably.

“But you want a million for them. You said so.”

Harry scowled at her.

“You're not deliberately trying to put me off, are you?”

“But you don't seem to have thought of the difficulties.”

“I haven't stopped thinking of them,” he said angrily. “Of course there are difficulties. A job like this can't be plain sailing, but I'll fix the difficulties. There's bound to be someone in Mexico who'll handle the stuff.”

She began to breathe more easily now. It was such a stupid, badly thought-out plan that she felt sure she could persuade him to give it up if she handled him carefully.

“But will you find anyone?” she asked. “You can't walk around asking anyone if he'll buy three million . . .”

“I know! I know!” he said, his voice shooting up. “It's something I've got to work out.”

“And what about these two men who are going to help you? Who will they be?”

“I don't know yet. I've got to find them. I'm going downtown this morning and I'll have a look around.”

“But Harry! You can't find men to steal diamonds like you find something in a shop. If you approach the wrong one, he'll tell the police. Oh, Harry, darling, can't you see it won’t work? You must see! You're not a crook. Don't you see you can't handle a job as big as this without an organization behind you? You can't do it!”

Harry looked at her, then a slow grin spread over his face.

“Well, don't get so worked up about it, Glorie,” he said. “That's sound sense. An organization would be swell, but at the same time I'd have to share my profits, wouldn't I? And how am I to find an organization?”

She had an unpleasant feeling that he was pulling her leg, and she looked sharply at him.

“But you will have these other two men to pay, and there will be the man in the car,” she said.

“Yeah, that's right. Well, okay, I'll have to think about it again, won’t I? I'll have to put some more work in on it.” He looked over at the kitchen clock. “Hey! Isn't it time you went to work? We don't want to lose our one and only job, do we?”

“Yes, I must go.” Glorie started to her feet. “Listen, Harry, let's talk about this again tonight. Promise me you won’t do anything until tonight. Don't go talking to anyone. Promise me, Harry. Let's work it out tonight when I get back.”

“Okay, baby. I'll wait until you get back.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “But you do think it's a good idea apart from the difficulties?”

She touched his face with her fingertips.

“There are lots of good ideas. It depends so much on whether they work out or not.”

“Yeah, I guess that's right. Well, you've given me something more to think about, baby. You get off or you'll be late.” He turned her, patted her and pushed her to the door. “See you tonight.”

When she had gone, he finished his coffee, poured himself another cup and carried it into the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair while he stared down at his slippered feet. There was a half-sly, half-jeering smile on his face as he thought of what Glorie had said. His plan was working out the way he thought it would. She had absorbed the first shock. Tonight she would be ready to discuss the details and find more faults with the plan. He was pretty sure, now that he had given her the impression that the scheme was half-baked and that he had overlooked the main snags that he could talk her into doing what he wanted her to do.

When he had finished his coffee, he stood up and went over to the chest of drawers. He pulled open the lower drawer and took out a bundle of letters and photographs.

A couple of days ago he had wanted a fresh towel, and not knowing where she kept them, he had made a systematic search of all the drawers in her bedroom. He had come across this bundle of letters tucked away under a neatly folded pile of underwear.

Because he had nothing to do and was bored, he had taken the letters into the sitting room and had read them.

He had had no misgivings about reading Glorie's letters. He saw no wrong in that, and he wouldn't have cared if she had found some of his letters and had read them.

He had found them to be old love letters, dated three years back, and written by a man who signed himself Ben. They were fiery letters that slowly cooled as the dates on the letters progressed.

The final letter told Harry that the brush off was near, and he had shaken his head, feeling sorry for her. It wasn't until he had looked at the photographs that he suddenly became interested. Ben Delaney's photographs had appeared so often in the Press that Harry recognized him immediately.

He now took one of these photographs from the bundle and carried it over to the window and looked at it.

Delaney appeared to be a small, dapper man with cold, steady eyes, a closely clipped moustache and nondescript features.