Have a Nice Night

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

In a shabby, dimly lit bar on the waterfront of St. Johns River, Jacksonville, two men sat at a table and talked in low tones. Apart from these two and the fat, elderly barman, the bar was deserted. The man sitting to the left was Ed Haddon, the king of art thieves, a brilliant operator who appeared to live an immaculate life of a wealthy retired business man, paying his taxes, moving to his various apartments in Fort Lauderdale, the South of France, Paris and London. He was the mastermind who planned, organized and directed a group of expert thieves who profitably did his bidding.

Haddon could be mistaken for a senator or even a secretary of state. He was tall, heavily built, with thick iron-grey hair, a florid, handsome face and the benign smile of a politician. Behind this façade was a razor-sharp brain and a ruthless, cunning mind.

The man on the right was Lu Brady, considered by the world's underworld as the best art thief in the business, He was slightly built, around thirty five years of age, with a black crewcut, sharp features and grey restless eyes. Apart from his expertise with any kind of lock, he was also a master of disguise. His facial skin was like rubber: a few pads inside his mouth and his lean face turned to fat. He made his own wigs. When he wore a moustache or a beard, each hair was put into place, one at a time. His thin body, by wearing padded clothes which he constructed himself, transformed him into a man whose main interest in life was heavy eating. Because of this remarkable talent for disguise, he had no police record, although the police of the world were searching for him.

These two men who had worked together for a number of years, had been holding a post mortem on their last job: the stealing of Catherine the Great's icon from the Washington museum. Both of them had agreed the planning had been brilliant and the execution of the steal not to be faulted. It was just one of those things that the planning, the organization and the thought hadn't paid off.

Taking his time, Haddon lit a cigar, and Brady, recognizing the signs, waited expectantly.

'I lost money on that steal, Lu,' Haddon said when he was satisfied the cigar was drawing well. 'Okay, so it's just so much water under the bridge. You lose one, you win one. Now, it's time we made a profit . . . right?'

Brady nodded. 'You got something, Ed?'

'I wouldn't be sitting in this dump if I hadn't. This one will be big, but it needs working on. I will have to get together a good team.'

He pointed his cigar at Brady. 'You head my list. I need to know if you'll be available during the next three weeks.'

Brady gave a sly smile. 'I'll always available when you want me, Ed!'

'Yeah.' Haddon nodded. 'I guess that's right. You know when I set up a deal, you make big money. Now, pay attention. When I was planning the icon steal, and because I had to work with that fag Claude Kendrick, I stayed for three days at the Spanish Bay Hotel, in Paradise City. It cost me plenty. Now this hotel is very special, it is easily the most expensive and deluxe hotel in the world, and that's saying a lot. It doesn't have rooms, only suites. It gives a service that is out of this world, and only people with more money than sense stay there, and let me tell you, Lu, there are still a lot of stupid jerks who do have more money than sense. So this hotel never, repeat never has empty suites.'

Brady lifted his eyebrows. 'You stayed there?'

'Correct. I move in the rich stream. That way, I pick up ideas. Okay, so it costs, but it often pays off. So this hotel has given me an idea.' Haddon puffed at his cigar, then flicked ash on the floor.

'The hotel is privately owned by a Frenchman, Jean Dulac, who knows his business. He's handsome, has loads of charm and his rich clients adore him. His staff is hand-picked, some of them from France where the best food, the best hotel service and the hotel deluxe know-how comes from. I couldn't get a suite at the hotel, so I stayed at one of a number of chalets in the grounds of the hotel -- two bedrooms, living room and so on: very deluxe.

'The suites are booked up all the year around. I was able to wander around the hotel. I had access to the lounges, the three restaurants, and the swimming pool.' He regarded Brady. 'Very, very lush and stuffed with very, very rich men and women.'

Brady was listening attentively.

'I don't need to tell you,' Haddon went on after a pause, 'that when men become rich, their wives want to compete with other rich men's wives. That's human nature. Apart from clothes, mink coats and so on, class jewelry comes high on the competitive list. If Mrs. Snook wears a diamond necklace, Mrs. Pook nags her husband until she gets one. Then Mrs. Snook adds earrings and bracelets to outdo Mrs. Pook, who then demands earrings and bracelets. These spoilt bitches, who have never earned a dollar, demand and get gems worth thousands. Dinner at the hotel is the time to see these women in the main restaurant, plastered with diamonds, emeralds and rubies. I had dinner there, and I have never seen such a display of gems in one big room. I reckon on that particular night these stupid, worthless women were wearing, between the lot of them, jewelry worth six or even seven million dollars.'

Brady sighed. 'Very nice,' he said. 'So . . .?'

'So, it occurred to me it would be a profitable idea to knock over the Spanish Bay Hotel.'

'Six million?' Brady asked, staring at Haddon.

'Yes,' Haddon puffed at his cigar. 'Could be more, but let us say six.'

'Interesting.' Brady scratched his head while he thought. 'I can't see it at the moment, Ed. Knock over the hotel? What does that mean exactly?'

'Of course you can't see it,' Haddon said and smiled. 'Smart as you are, Lu, you haven't my brains, that's why you and I work together so well. You organize the steal. I do the planning . . . right?'

Brady nodded. 'So the take could be six. 'What's in it for me?' he said, eyeing Haddon.

'Two,' Haddon said. 'I pay all the expenses. Fair enough?'

'Very nice, ' Brady said, 'and when we get the loot, who'll handle it?' Such was his faith in Haddon's planning, it didn't cross his mind to say if and not when.

'There'll be an uproar, of course,' Haddon said. 'The Paradise City cops are efficient. The squeal will come fast. They work well with the State Police and the Miami police. It'll be too risky to try to get the stuff out of the city. I plan to dump the lot in Kendrick's lap. I'll have to talk to him, but he's our best bet.'

Brady grimaced. 'I hate that fat fag.'

'Never mind. He's smart, and that's all we have to worry about.'

'Okay.' Brady shrugged. 'What's this to be, a hold-up? I don't dig that, Ed, not a hotel. How's it going to be done?'

Haddon signalled to the fat barman to bring two more drinks. He waited until the barman brought the drinks and had removed the empty glasses.

'When I stayed at the hotel, Lu,' he said, after the two men had saluted and sipped their drink, 'I got talking to a fat old trout who was plastered with diamonds. You'll always find some old woman whose husband has been happy to die just to be rid of her, sitting in hotel lounges. She was flattered I paid her attention. She told me she came to the hotel for a month every year. Every time she moved her fat body I could hear the rustle of dollar bills. I spent an hour with her, hearing about her husband, a big-shot in oil, who had died five years back, about her children and her goddam grandchildren. She forced family photographs on me. You know the menace: catch the eye of a lonely old woman and you're in for a session.

'So, okay, I'm good at that. After a while, I admired her diamonds. At a guess, she had on around a hundred thousand worth. She told me she had always insisted her husband gave her for their wedding anniversaries, a present in diamonds. I asked her if she wasn't afraid that, in these days of snatch and grab, she would be robbed. She told me she would never wear the rocks outside the hotel. She said the security service given by the hotel was so good she never even thought of being robbed. We kept talking so I can tell you something about this security service.

'Every guest on arrival is given a security box with a scrambler lock. Only the guest knows the number of the scrambler. When the guests go to bed, they put all their valuables into the boxes and two security guards take the boxes to the hotel safe. Get the idea?'

Brady nodded. 'Scrambler locks?' He smiled. 'No problem. Scrambler locks to me are chick feed.'

'I guessed you would say that. So when all these rich jerks go to bed, the hotel safe is stuffed with juicy boxes. That's as far as I have gone. Until the icon flop, I didn't think of knocking over the hotel. Now, I'm sure it will pay off.'

Brady thought, then asked, 'What's the hotel safe like?'

'That's for you to find out. I don't even know where it is located.'

'Okay. Shouldn't be difficult. Tell me about the security. Got any info about that?'

'There are two house dicks prowling around in shifts. Both look competent. Around nine p.m. two security guards, armed, come on duty and stay around until two a.m, They are young and tough. Life in the hotel quiets down around three a.m., but stray guests do come back after a night out up to four a.m. I think the best time to bust the safe would be around three a.m. I can't tell you more. You'll have to find out the details for yourself.'

'You mean for me to stay at the hotel?'

'No other way. I took the chance of you being available and got one of my people to book, through a travel agent, one of the hotel's chalets. That way the booking can't be traced.'

Brady nodded approvingly.

'I've also paid a hefty deposit, so there'll be no problem. You move in next Monday under the name of Cornelius Vance.'

'Nice rich name.'

'I'll fix it for you to have a Rolls. Remember this is a very rich background you'll be moving into. I think you should be an old, very wealthy cripple in a wheelchair with a male attendant. Don't get friendly with the other guests. Tell the hotel people you want to keep to yourself.

'This is going to cost me around fifteen thousand bucks, Lu. The chalet's rent without food, runs at eight hundred a day. Don't drink. Eat simply or the bill will reach the sky. Take your own drink with you. Have snacks in the chalet for lunch, but you have to eat in the restaurant at night to see the loot. Are you with me?'

Brady nodded.

'Your job is to locate the safe and open it. I've got a smooth operator who will drive the Rolls and act as your staff. His job will be to locate the safe and help with the boxes when the time comes. That's the set-up. Now, try to pull it to pieces.'

'You say one of the house dicks is on duty at all times?'

'Yes.'

'Two armed security guards are also around?'

'They won't worry you, Lu.' Haddon smiled. 'They were the first problem I had to solve. Plus the house dick. This I have done. They won't bother you.'

'If you say so, Ed. Then let's take a look at the attendant. I like the idea of me being in a wheelchair. That way I'll be the last one the cops suspect until it's too late. I'll need a chauffeur to handle the boxes, but don't let him be my attendant. A pretty, sexy, nurse feels more the part than a guy. A pretty, sexy nurse in uniform to wander around the hotel, chat up everyone and take any photos we need.'

'You are referring to your girl friend?' asked Haddon.

' Yup. She's so sexy, I get a hardon even thinking of her. She's made to measure for this job.'

Haddon shrugged. 'I leave the details to you. I'll take care of the chauffeur, you take care of the nurse.'

'She come under expenses, Ed?'

'My top for this job will be twenty grand. That includes everything.'

'Okay. Now, about the security guards and the dick.'

Haddon finished his drink. 'Do you watch television?'

'I guess. Not often. To me, by and large, television stinks.'

'Ever watch the guy who captures wild animals?'

'Yeah. I've often thought he must lead a goddam nice life: tough, but away from it all. So . . . ?'

'Seen a tiger put to sleep by a drugged dart?'

Brady looked searchingly at Haddon. 'Yup. You got me interested.'

'I made inquiries through this friend of mine.'

Haddon reached down and picked up a briefcase and laid it on the table. He looked over at the barman who was busy reading a sporting sheet at the deserted bar, then took from the briefcase what looked like a small air pistol.

'This cost me, Lu, but it works. It's loaded with six tiny darts loaded with the same knock-out mixture that the jungle guys use to knock out a tiger. The gun is automatic. All you have to do is to aim the gun at one of the guards, squeeze the trigger and he's asleep for at least six hours.'

Brady gaped. 'I don't believe it.'

Haddon smiled. 'Come on, Lu. You should know by now I get things organized.'

'You mean you fire this gun and the guy goes to sleep?'