Jesso hefted the brief case and made for his taxi at the curb. It was double-parked, so all he saw was the rear fender, and then the fender started moving. Jesso made it to the curb, ran out between the cars that stood there, and yelled, but the hacky either didn’t hear or didn’t want to, because the cab was off, moving with the traffic.
“He stood there twenty minutes, bud. At twenty minutes even I draw the line,” said a cop, coming out from between the cars.
He didn’t look mean, he didn’t look as if he were part of a plot, or maybe planted there, maybe no cop at all. Jesso was wide awake now, so much so that he felt he was going to shake any minute.
“He’ll be back,” said the cop. “Just making a circle around the block.” He turned and walked across the street.
Jesso watched him leave, knowing it was just that, a cop moving a cab that was double-parked too long and nothing more, but Jesso felt the sweat creep out even though it was all over. Till then he hadn’t known just how much asleep he’d been, hiding his fear that something would go wrong under a thick blanket of nothingness. He yanked at his tie, wiped a hand across his face, and looked down the street. He felt like a fool for the way he’d taken that business with the cab. Any more of this and it wouldn’t need any Kator to trip him up. Just keep stumbling along with almost a quarter of a million under his arm, just keep goofing the way he’d picked a bank right across from Gluck’s place, and he wouldn’t have to wait for any monster mind like Kator’s to spring a trap for him.
Jesso didn’t see the cab right then, so he looked elsewhere, alert now. He saw the guy in the Brooks Brothers suit across the street and the way he watched the backside of the girl in front of him. He saw the same cop down by the fire plug, and this time he was pinning a ticket on a car. And when the two-tone Buick pulled out of the basement garage opposite, Jesso saw that too. He saw Murph behind the wheel before Murph saw Jesso, but then he didn’t jump back to the curb behind the cars, because first he took another look down the length of the street. No taxi yet. Jump, Jesso. The subway, two blocks down. That damn taxi….
“Hey! Jackie!”
That’s when he jumped.
The Buick had swung around and Murph slowed down. He blinked at Jesso at the bank, trying to get the door open, but it was past three-thirty so Murph got a good look.
Jesso had seen him too. Gluck sat in back, spread out, and when Murph started his yelling Gluck had looked up, but he was looking at Murph. There are millions of Jacks. Jesso didn’t see him by the bank, turning away from the door, not knowing whether to run or stand right there because his taxi was coming down the street. That taxi was going to pull up right behind Gluck’s Buick. And Murphy, stopping the car to crane his neck—was that idiot ever going to catch on and move? Then Gluck looked up again. He said something and Jesso could imagine what it sounded like. If Gluck looked down again…. Gluck lowered his head and Jesso made his sprint. And that’s when Gluck looked up again.
There wasn’t any turning back, and if this was going to be the end, it was going to be full of action. There wasn’t going to be any more waiting around for dreamed-up traps to spring, because there weren’t any. And no more clouts on the head in some Brooklyn button shop, because from now on Jesso had a pair of eyes in the back of his head. He slammed the taxi door shut and yelled, “Drive like hell.” Just for good measure he threw a bill next to the cabbie to make it legal. Forty-five bucks was the fare so far; the rest was tip. The cabbie grabbed the C note and took off. Jesso sat behind him and the cabbie hadn’t missed a thing; how Jesso sat and how he held that gun. The taxi took a wild swing around the Buick to get clear, because one door had opened and Gluck had scrambled out. Through the rear window Jesso saw Gluck taking the wheel. Good old trusty Murph. Gluck didn’t trust him.
They could have made it easy the way the cabbie started to roll except that soon all of Manhattan would have known about it. About one crazy cab, one crazy Buick, and traffic scattering itself into a snarl wherever they went.
“Pull up,” Jesso said, “and then keep going.”
He jumped near the corner and ran. Going down the subway stairs, he caught a glimpse of the Buick roaring by and the taxi up ahead turning into a one-way street.
The subway was good. He could barrel along underground and like a mole come up just about anywhere. He took the first train coming through and then watched for the stations. He could come up anywhere, today, tomorrow—and then he remembered about Gluck. That bastard wasn’t one man, he was a thousand. And any place Jesso would come up there’d be a subway station, and in that station would be one of Gluck’s gorillas. Unless he got out now.
He passed two more stops, just for the distance, and then he got out. It looked good. It wasn’t far from Beekman Place. He was fingering for a dime while he was still running up the stairs, and then he was inside a drugstore, dialing a number.
“Bard residence,” said the maid.
“Get me Miss Bard.”
“Who shall I say—”
“Get Miss Bard!”
It took a while and then her voice said, “Hello?”
“Lynn, listen close and don’t talk.”
He heard her gasp.
“You alone, Lynn?”
“No, but—”
“Out of earshot?”
“Yes, Jackie. My God, Jackie, I heard—”
“Shut up. Is your place on Long Island empty?”
“Yes, Jackie.”
“And nobody coming out there?”
“It’s closed. Daddy is in—”
“I’m two blocks away. Get your car out, roll by the drugstore, and I’ll meet you on the curb. And keep the motor going.”
“Right now, Jackie?”
“Who’s in the apartment?”
“Winnie, but you don’t know him. He’s just somebody I know and when I heard about you—“
“Never mind. Can you leave?”
“Of course, Jackie.”
“Ten minutes. And bring the keys for that house.”
He hung up, waited five minutes, and Lynn’s convertible pulled up. She had the top down. She looked anxious and beautiful.
“Lynn. Now don’t talk. Let’s have those house keys and get out of the seat. In two days you can come out to the place and pick up your car. I’ve—“
“I’m coming along,” she said, and she looked at him as if she weren’t ever going to let go again.
He bent over the door, talked fast.
“This is trouble. Lynn. Stay away and I’m sorry I had to call you. Thanks for the car. I’ll—“
He didn’t have to finish. There wasn’t any point to it unless he was going to toss her out of the car and leave her lying in the street. She had moved over, wanting him to drive, but that’s as far as she was going.
Jesso jumped in and slammed the door. They sat like that while he made the top come up, and when he pinched his finger putting the catch on the top he swore as if nobody were listening. Then he drove. Once she tried to ask him questions, but it didn’t work. He took the Queensboro Bridge and headed out Northern Boulevard.
They weren’t far from La Guardia. Why sit around in Oyster Bay when he could take off for California, three thousand miles away from Gluck, pick up the rest of his dough, and then head back for Germany? The only trouble was he didn’t know about the flight, had no reservation. Better yet, forget about that loot in L.A., head back for Europe, leave Gluck and Lynn and all of it behind.
He made a sharp turn south and headed for Idlewild. His ticket back to Frankfurt was good any day, there was a good chance of getting a reservation at short notice, and it was seven-thirty. The Stratoliner was due to leave the same time every day, nine P.M.
“Darling, Oyster Bay is the other way. You shouldn’t have turned off.”
“I changed my mind. We’re going to Idlewild.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know where he was going from Idlewild, but she thought she was going along.
“It’s better that way all around. You won’t get involved any more.”
“Jackie—”
“Give up, Lynn. I’m just using your car.”
Then they both kept still. When he approached the airport he could recognize it by the lights. It was dark by now. The traffic tower glowed with a bluish light and the building below had a long bright line of windows that looked like teeth. Almost by instinct he swung away from the drive leading to the gates and cruised the parking lot first. Take it slow, check how it looks, because maybe Gluck has notions about airports and railway stations and maybe not.
He didn’t see a thing. He cruised the entrance once, didn’t dare try it twice. Park a while, maybe? And let the reservations get used up. Or maybe do some necking in the front seat just so time would pass and he wouldn’t have to risk it out there, risk the trip, the dough, Renette, and his life.
“I’m getting out.” He braked the car past the entrance. He gave it one more look, picked up his brief case from the floor. “Lynn, now hear me good. I’m going out there and maybe nothing happens.” He paused, reached to his belt. “See this?” She saw the gun. “And this?” She watched him cock the hammer. “I’m going out there with this thing in my hand. Here, in my pocket. And maybe you’ll hear about it from where you’re sitting. So sit, don’t move, and if I’m not back ten minutes later, take off and be glad you’re rid of it all. So long.” He got out of the car.
And then he was by the bright entrance. There were cars parked along the curb, one was empty, one had an old couple in it, the other one a G.I. and his mother. Nobody looked like a gorilla or like Gluck.
When Jesso had his hand on the glass door he didn’t freeze, he almost died. The man’s voice said, “Wait, Jackie!”
He snapped around like a spring and would have had the gun out if the couple hadn’t come through the door and bumped his arm.
“Jackie, your left,” and then he saw Murph. He ambled toward the door, past Jesso, and while he passed he said without moving his mouth, “There’s a nest of ‘em inside. Blow fast.”
Jesso was off. He sprinted to the convertible down by the curve. Lynn had the door open and he almost jumped into her lap.
“Hold on,” he said, and the car tore off
He almost went crazy at the Cross Boulevard intersection, but then he was twisting the car through the clover leaf and along the freeway that went across Jamaica Bay.
“Darling, are they chasing us?”
“Shut up a minute.”
He looked back, but all the cars looked alike. He was cursing under his breath till the lit highway stopped swimming and then he felt better. He was at the toll gate before he knew it and Lynn was ready with the money. Good, smart Lynn. And when he twisted down the ramp to Channel Drive, going out the length of Long Island he felt for a second the way he and Lynn had felt a long time ago. But then only Lynn felt that way any more.
“Jackie? Can I talk now?”
“Sorry about this thing, Lynn.”
“I’m glad I helped you, Jackie.”
“Yeah. It’s not over yet.”
“Bad, Jackie?”
“No. Just business.”
She slid closer to him. “It’s the first time you’ve taken me on one of your business trips.”
“Hope it’s the last, kid. Just hope that.”
“But I remember another one,” she went on. “That was business, too, you said. And I waited for you at Lake Tahoe and then you came back from Reno and joined me. Remember, Jackie?”
He sat up and made it hard for her to lean up against him. “I told you to lay off that stuff, Lynn. I told you it’s no good.”
She sat up too. He caught her profile and the line of her suit where the dashlight showed it, and even though she wasn’t like Renette, she reminded him of her. She wasn’t built like Renette, she was slimmer, but there was an expression about her face that reminded him. Lynn, too, used to look much colder.
“You told me,” she said. “You told me, you told me. You think it’s as easy as that?” But she didn’t sound mean about it; her voice was pleading.
He didn’t answer.
“You think you can ever hurt me enough so I’ll let go?”
“I’ve never tried to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said. “Perhaps you should.”
“Perhaps I should,” he said.
They came to Cedarhurst and Jesso slowed down. He pulled the car up, put it in neutral, and turned toward her.
“Listen to me, Lynn. You know what I’ve got to say about you and me, so I won’t say it again. But here’s something new. This time you hang around and I think you might get killed.”
She looked at him, but only her eyes moved.
“So get out.”
She sat still.
“Get out of the car. Give me two days and report it stolen.”
“I won’t,” she said.
“Or I’ll clip you and throw you out.”
“Clip me,” she said, and it sounded funny in her finishing-school diction.
He almost hauled out, but when he saw how she closed her eyes and put up her chin, he couldn’t do it. At first he thought he wanted to laugh, but that wasn’t it. He thought that if she meant something to him she wouldn’t look pitiful sitting there like that.
Her eyes were still closed and she started to tremble.
“For God’s sake, open up and relax,” he yelled at her. He felt like an idiot, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“You could have done it, Jackie.” Jesso put the car into gear, held it.
“If this kills you, Lynn, I won’t give a damn.”
“I won’t either,” she said, and he knew she meant it more than he did. He turned the car toward the North Shore of Long Island and didn’t talk the rest of the way.
They got to the house around two in the morning. A wall and a plot of trees hid the place from the road, but Jesso remembered where to turn. Inside, Lynn switched the lights on and turned up the heat. Then Jesso went to the bedroom. It faced the water and had a plate-glass window for one wall. The whole house was plate glass on the water side.
“Turn the light off,” Jesso said.
Lynn had her jacket off and was sliding the blouse down one arm. Her bra made sharp points.
“I don’t mind, darling. Even if the bay were filled with boats.”
“Turn off that light. You can see it for miles the way this place is lit up.”
She worked the switch and came back to Jesso.