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 on to 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.
Chapter 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 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 armoured 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 road map. He sat studying the road map. 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 road map. 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 armoured 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 armoured 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 armoured car top the rise way behind him. He started the Dodge, pulled out on to 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 armoured car passed Parker he put the road map 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.
The armoured car pulled in to the diner and stopped in its normal place, next to the good truck. The driver got out and went to the back and let the guard out. They locked that door and went into the diner. As they were going through the door, Parker showed up in the bad truck and slid it into the slot to the left of the armoured car. He got down from the cab and went into the diner. He sat on the stool nearest the cash register, and ordered coffee.
Skimm came north again, passing the diner to make sure the bad truck blotted out the view of the armoured car, and kept going north. At the junction with 35 he did the loop-the-loop and wound up going south again. He stopped just shy of the entrance to the diner parking lot, and got out his road map. He left the engine running.
Handy came north, took the first crossover, went by Skimm in the Dodge, and drove around behind the diner. He already had the blue pants on, and now he changed to the blue shirt and put on a tie. He strapped on the belt and holster and slid the .38 in the holster. He put on the sunglasses, but held the garrison cap in his hand.
Inside the diner, Parker saw the driver and the guard getting ready to leave. He was at the register already, so he paid before they did, and went outside. When they came out, they saw him kicking at the right front tyre of the cab, standing between the cab and the armoured car. Then he walked back and looked at the double rear tyres of the cab on the same side, and shook his head. When the driver and the guard were almost to him, he moved again, and studied the double tyres at the back of the trailer. He shook his head angrily and said, “I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
He said it loud, and the driver and the guard looked at him and grinned.
When they had disappeared from Skimm’s sight behind the bad truck, he had put the road map down and shifted the Dodge into first. He drove slowly into the parking lot and stopped, facing the woods behind the diner, his left front fender next to the rear of the good truck and his left rear fender next to the rear of the bad truck.
When Handy heard Parker say, “I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he put his garrison cap on and walked around the side of the diner towards the good truck.
The driver took out a key and turned it in the back door of the armoured car. Then he stepped back and the guard took out another key and finished the job of unlocking the door. He pulled the door open as Parker came walking forward, and when he started up into the back of the armoured car Parker clipped him with the butt of the Sauer.
Just then Handy came around the back of the good truck, with the .38 in his right hand and a small pocket-knife in his left. He put the point of the gun in the driver’s back and pricked the side of his neck with the knife.
“Hold very still,” he said, low and flat. The gun was the real threat, but the knife was psychological. Most people were more afraid of a knife than a gun.
The driver shivered, and his eyes widened. Parker said to him, talking low, “Go on up and have the other guard open the door for you.”
Handy moved his left hand down and pricked the knife gently into the driver’s hip. “One wrong move,” he said, “and I castrate you.”
Skimm got out of the Dodge, bringing the rope and gags. He and Parker tied and gagged the unconscious guard, and carried him to the side of the good truck. Parker opened the door, and they tossed the guard inside. Then he went around to the other side of the armoured car to help Handy.
The guard in the cab of the armoured car saw the driver, and caught a glimpse of another uniformed figure behind him. He opened the door on the driver’s side, and saw a flash of reflected light as the driver went down. Then Handy had the .38 on him. “Come on out!”
The guard hesitated. He could see the driver lying on his face on the gravel. He swallowed, and came carefully out of the armoured car.