Alma and Skimm jumped into the Dodge and went bumping off into the scrub back of the diner, and Parker and Handy pushed the Ford south on 9. They were to go south on 9, turn right on 516 to 18 and then left on Main Street and on to the farmhouse. Alma and Skimm were coming around the back way, down the Amboy Turnpike. That’s the way it was being done today, with everybody playing games and being serious about it, and Skimm the only one who thought it was for real.
When Parker and Handy got to the dirt road turnoff to the farmhouse, the green Dodge was already there, parked on the shoulder of the road. Parker stopped behind it and kept his motor running. He didn’t like the two cars together like this, so close to the time of the job.
Skimm came over from the Dodge and leaned in the window. “How’d it go?”
“Sweet,” Handy said. “No problems.”
“We ought to run through it again,” Skimm said.
Parker shook his head. He was disgusted because he had to play a part when he should be concentrating on the job.
“Alma doesn’t want to either,” Skimm said.
“She’s right.” Handy answered.
“We’ll go into the farmhouse,” Parker said.
Skimm went back to the Dodge, and Parker turned the Ford across the road and went up the dirt track and around the tree and down to the farmhouse. He parked in back, and he and Handy got out and stretched. Then Parker went inside and took the automatic from the card table and unbarred the door. He kicked the door and stepped back. “Come on out.”
Stubbs came out. He didn’t have anything in his hands, and he wasn’t watching for a chance to jump Parker. He’d stopped all that four or five days ago, around the same time he’d stopped shaving.
Parker had brought him shaving gear the third day, and for a while Stubbs had shaved every day or so, but now he’d stopped. His beard was spiny, dark brown flecked with gray. His mouth looked dirty too, with spittle caked white on the lips, and he kept his eyes half-closed against the light.
When Parker told him to go on outside in the air, he shuffled, keeping his arms at his sides. His movements were getting shorter and more economical every day.
When Stubbs and Parker came out, Alma and Skimm were standing with Handy, talking. Stubbs stopped and looked at them, blinking some more. He’d been at the farmhouse twelve days now, and this was the first time he’d seen more than one person at a time.
Parker held the automatic loose at his side. “Walk around,” he said, “but don’t go near the cars.”
Stubbs walked around, in a large ragged circle. His shuffling made the white sand kick up around his feet. His shoes and pantcuffs were covered with sand, and his white shirt was almost gray. He’d stopped wearing the chauffeur’s jacket and cap, and his squat head looked naked, as though his hair was getting thinner. He shuffled around in a circle, head bowed and eyes looking at the ground, while the other four stood by the farmhouse and talked.
They went over the job, what each of them was supposed to do and how long it would take. Who was supposed to be where when. Parker went over it, and then each of the others went over his part of it, explaining it as though the other three didn’t know anything about it. There were questions, mostly from Alma and mostly useless because they weren’t about Alma’s part of it, but the questions were all answered.
Stubbs interrupted after a while, shuffling over and telling Parker he had to go out around to the other side of the farmhouse because of the woman. Parker went with him, and while he waited, he listened to the drone of the three voices from around back.
Shortly afterward, they finished and everybody seemed satisfied. Alma and Skimm got back into the Dodge, and drove around the farmhouse and back up toward the road. Handy and Parker stayed a while longer, so Stubbs could have more time out in the air. It looked to Parker as though Stubbs might be getting sick, since he wasn’t shaving or trying to fight back any more. He wanted Stubbs to stay healthy.
Handy said to Stubbs, “It’s almost over, partner. By Monday night, you’ll be away from here.”
“It’s always night,” said Stubbs. It was almost the first thing he’d said, and his voice was low and flat, as though he didn’t care if anybody heard him.
Handy felt sorry for Stubbs. He’d been inside, and he knew this must be even worse than inside, because of being alone and no light. “Listen, there’s a flashlight in the car. Why don’t we give you the flashlight?”
“For what?” Parker said.
Handy shrugged. “To break the monotony.”
Parker looked at Stubbs. It wasn’t easy keeping a man on ice, not for anybody concerned. But Stubbs had bulled in, complicating things. Parker’s concern for him was really limited — keep him healthy, and keep him on ice, until after the job; then go with him to Nebraska and square things with the cook, May. Then it was over. He didn’t have any interest in Stubbs other than that, so he’d never thought about giving him a flashlight.
Handy got the flashlight out of the glove compartment of the Ford and brought it over to Stubbs. Stubbs took it as though it was a piece of wood, and just let it dangle in his hand at the end of his arm. Then he went off and shuffled around in his circle again, holding onto the flashlight. Just before they put him back in he tried the flashlight and it worked. He looked at the circle of light on the ground and smiled. Then he went back inside and Parker barred the door.
8
You don’t do anything the day before a job. You just lie around and take it easy. Parker went to a movie in the afternoon and another in the evening, then had some beer in a bar. He wanted to take a six pack back to the motel, but in New Jersey you can’t buy a six pack after ten o’clock at night.
He was up at seven Monday morning and drove up to Irvington to Skimm’s place. Skimm had the Dodge. He gave Parker the Sauer and the .38, keeping the .32 for himself, and they took the two cars to Newark and picked up Handy. Handy rode with Parker, and Parker gave him the .38.
They picked up the good truck, and Handy drove that. All three of them went back to the Shore Points Diner, where Alma was already at work. The parking lot on the side they wanted was empty. They put the Ford in the spot where the armored car always parked, and the good truck to the right of it, on the side away from the road. Handy went into the diner, and Parker and Skimm went back up to Newark again in the Dodge.
They got the other truck, the bad one, and Parker drove it down 9 to the other side of the Raritan River and then parked on the shoulder and took out a roadmap. He sat studying the roadmap. Skimm stopped a little farther south, at the bottom of a long curving grade, where he could see a long way back. He also spent some time studying a roadmap. It was five minutes to ten.
They were all in position now. The good truck was where it would be during the job. The Ford was next to it, parked at an angle so it blocked where the armored car would be and where the bad truck would be, so no other customers could take those places. Skimm and Parker were two miles north, waiting for the armored car. Handy was in the diner, having a cup of coffee.
At ten after ten, Alma told Benjy to mop up the right side. She put a chair across the aisle and a cardboard sign on it saying, “Section closed.” There was one couple in a booth on that side, but they left at quarter after ten, when the ammonia from Benjy’s mop got to them. Handy left right after them, and sat in the Ford, taking a while to get a cigarette lit.
At twenty-five past ten, Skimm saw the armored car top the rise way behind him. He started the Dodge, pulled out onto the highway and drove south at the speed limit, fifty miles an hour. When Handy saw him go by, he backed the Ford away from the diner and drove south after him. As soon as the armored car passed Parker he put the roadmap away, fought the gearshift into second, and followed. Skimm, south of the diner, took the first U-turn and came back north again. Handy went on to the second U-turn and then came back.