‘Something special, Mr. Lucas?’ he asked. ‘I’m in no hurry. Something I can do?’
‘It’s okay, Frank. I just want to work out an idea. You get off.’
When they had gone, I sat down at the bench. I worked until midnight on a gimmick that would unscramble the direct telephone line from the Los Angeles bank to the Sharnville bank. When I had finished, I knew all I had to do was to connect this gimmick with the telephone in Manson’s office, and I could open the three locks of the vault.
Taking the gimmick with me, I returned to my apartment. By now I had got over the shock of Thomson’s death. He had been dangerous, and I had had the feeling he had been hostile to me. Deputy Sheriff Fred Maclain would take his place until the next election. I didn’t have to worry about him. He was a big, grossly fat drunk who was good for nothing except bawling out traffic offenders. He could no more cope with a bank break-in than a six-year-old child.
But the red light was up. I knew now that Klaus was utterly ruthless, and nothing would stop him cutting Brannigan down to size. I was sure he would have me murdered if I failed to get his men into the vault. I also felt sure he now wouldn’t go ahead with his blackmail threat. I had alerted him that if I were arrested for Marsh’s murder, I would talk, and he was more than aware of Brannigan’s power. Having discarded this blackmail threat to make me co-operate, he would now switch threats, and kill Glenda and me if I didn’t get his men into the vault.
The next two days passed quickly. I had so much to do in the office, I hadn’t time to think of Klaus, but, at night, when I was alone, I thought and planned, and by the third morning, I had a watertight plan for not only getting Klaus’s men into the vault, but for them to get away with the loot. I also made other plans to take care of Glenda and myself.
During these three days, there was a tremendous uproar in the local press about Sheriff Thomson’s death. The editor said it was shameful, and what were the police doing about it? Even the Mayor joined in. The paper carried a photo of Deputy Sheriff Maclain’s fat, bloated face. He declared the police of Sharnville would never rest until they found this drunk driver. No one killed a fine man like Sheriff Thomson and got away with it... just words that meant nothing.
Thomson’s funeral was attended by more than two thousand people. Every leading citizen, including Dixon and myself, was there. It was an experience I will never forget. There was a long queue of important people to shake Mrs. Thomson’s hand and mutter condolences. I couldn’t face that. I told Dixon to represent us, and I moved out of the queue. He gave me an odd look, began to say I should do it, but I walked away.
That night, at 21.00, there was a ring on my doorbell. I had been waiting. I picked up my brief-case, opened the door and found Joe, waiting by the elevator. We rode down together, and got in the Chevy. I put my brief-case between us.
‘So we’re going into action, Mr. Lucas?’ he said, as he started the engine. ‘You’ve got it all fixed?’
‘I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t,’ I said.
‘Yeah, man. Soon we’ll all be on the gravy train. Man! Does this mean something to me! I’ve got a girl waiting. Me and she’ll take off. I’ve got it all figured out. We’re going to be in the gravy for the rest of our days!’
‘Did Benny kill the sheriff?’
He nodded.
‘He sure did. Now, I don’t dig Benny, but he sure does a job. That sonofabitch sheriff was like a boil on my arse. You know something, Mr. Lucas? I was driving along, nice and quiet, when this sonofabitch flagged me down. He wanted to know what I was doing in Sharnville. I smelt he hated black people. I told him I was passing through, and he said for me to keep passing.’ Joe giggled. ‘He was too smart. When a creep gets too smart, Mr. Klaus fixes him, and that sonofabitch was sure fixed.’ There was a pause, then he went on, ‘You’ve really got this operation fixed, Mr. Lucas?’
‘Yes, but it could still go wrong. You could still get twenty years, but that’s your funeral.’
‘Yeah, man.’ He gave a short barking laugh, ‘but it sure would be your funeral too.’ He drove the car out of the town traffic and on to the highway. ‘The boss says there will be three million bucks in that vault. I can’t sleep thinking of all that bread.’
This gave me the chance I was waiting for.
‘What makes you think you’re going to get any bread at all, Joe?’ I asked.
I could see his black face in the light from the dashboard. The muscles under his skin tightened.
‘What was that again, Mr. Lucas?’
‘I was just thinking aloud, forget it.’
‘What was that about me not getting my share?’ There was a sudden snarl in his voice.
‘Forget it. If you’re lucky, you’ll get it... if you’re lucky.’
He drove in silence for some moments. I lit a cigarette. I hadn’t spent the past nights, thinking and planning, for nothing.
Finally, he said anxiously, ‘What you mean — lucky?’
‘Are you lucky, Joe?’
He thought about this, his face worried.
‘Lucky? I guess not. I’ve never been lucky. I’ve spent most of my life in jail. I get all the dirty work to do for the boss. No, I guess I ain’t lucky.’
‘Three million dollars!’ I released a low whistle. ‘That’s a heap of money. I don’t know what they have promised you, Joe. Maybe half a million. That’s a lot of money for a black boy, but you could be lucky.’
He slowed the car and pulled into a lay-bay. He turned and glared at me.
‘What are you getting at?’ he demanded, alarm in his voice.
‘Just stating a fact, Joe. That’s a lot of money. What s to stop Benny putting a bullet through your head once he has the loot?’
He stared at me: the whites of his eyes enormous: his thick lips twitching.
‘Harry wouldn’t let him! What are you getting at?’
‘Just warning you, Joe. I’ll tell you something. I’m worried about Benny. He’s a killer. I’ve got this operation fixed, but I am getting paid in advance. I’m covered, but you aren’t. Now, think, Joe: can you imagine a killer like Benny would let a black boy walk away with five hundred thousand dollars? Ask yourself.’
Sweat broke out on his face.
‘Harry will look after me.’ He banged his big fists down on the steering wheel. ‘I trust Harry.’
‘That’s fine, but it’s news to me. I didn’t know any black man could trust any white man when there’s big money around. If you can trust Harry to take care of you, then you’ve nothing to worry about. I was only thinking aloud. Come on, let’s get moving.’
He wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.
‘Are you trying to con me, Mr. Lucas?’
‘It’s a lot of money. Think about it. If you can really trust Harry, you have no problem... a little luck perhaps. Let’s go... your boss is waiting.’
‘If Benny tries anything with me,’ he muttered ‘I’ll fix him.’
I had sown a seed of doubt in his mind, and that’s what I wanted to do,
‘Sure, but watch him, Joe. When you three get the loot, don’t turn your back on him. Now, let’s go.’
He sat for a long moment, muttering to himself, then he started the car and drove back on to the highway. I didn’t want further talk, so I pressed down the cassette, and the car rocked with beat music.
Harry was at the gate. He waved to me as Joe drove by, I lifted my hand. I would now have to work on Harry. He was a very different proposition to Joe, but I had worked that out too.
As I got out of the car, Benny met me at the front door.
‘Hi, fink,’ he said. ‘The boss is waiting.’
I looked him over, knowing he was the danger. There was a leering expression on his brutal face. I knew I could do nothing with him. I walked by him and into the living-room.