Operation Fireball (4 page)

Before he cleared the doorway, I was walking toward the same bar stool. I didn’t even need to sit down. Boldly traced in the moisture on the bar top were the figures 529. Slater had left a message.

I made it back into the lobby in time to see the Viking step aboard an elevator. The indicator of the one alongside it marked it as being at the fifth floor. I stationed myself in front of it. Sure enough, it started downward. I glanced around. There was no one standing near me in front of the bank of elevators. When the shining bronze doors opened, I was standing directly in front of Slater. His features were flushed and angry-looking.

He started to move around me. I put both hands against his chest and pushed. He went backward into the elevator cab, his face comical in its surprise. I stepped aboard and jabbed the control button, which closed the elevator doors behind us. In the same moment I crowded Slater so he could feel the outline of the holstered gun, then stepped away so he couldn’t reach me with his hard-looking hands. “You made a mistake in not coming alone,” I told him. “Let’s hear the story fast or only one of us is going to walk off this thing.”

His expression was dangerous-looking as he eyed me. Then he decided to smile. “You’re a cute bastard,” he said. His voice was calm. “You’re right about the face. I’d never have known you.”

“Never mind the chatter. Who’s your oversized blond friend?”

“Another cute bastard. The guy who’s goin’ to get us where we need to go on this caper.”

We couldn’t stay on the elevator forever. I punched the third-floor button. When the doors opened, I motioned to Slater to leave first. “Room 304,” I said. “To the right.”

He moved down the corridor ahead of me. He had a firm, easy stride. He stood back while I unlocked the door. One hand inside my jacket, I waved him inside. He entered warily, scanning the room for possible hiding places that might conceal an accomplice. He looked into the bathroom, then into the closet. Satisfied that we were alone, he spoke up again. This time his tone was businesslike. “You should have been able to tell by lookin’ at him that he’s no cop,” he said.

That much was true. In the quick glimpse I’d had of him, the big man seemed to have none of the usual police mannerisms difficult to describe but impossible to overlook. “Where does he fit into the proposition?”

“A full partner,” Slater said without hesitation.

“How many partners?”

“There’ll be five of us all together.”

“And how big is this walnut we’re supposed to cut up?”

“Let’s get Erikson up here an’ have him tell you.”

“Erikson?”

“The man you sidetracked.”

“Is he calling the shots on the project?”

Slater started to answer me and then stopped. “Up to a point,” he said at last. He listened to the sound of his own words and seemed to approve of them. “Up to a point,” he repeated, and grinned at me. He had strong-looking teeth.

“What’s this man Erikson contributing?”

“Background and knowhow. He’s an ex-Navy type who got in the grease with the brass. He specialized in communications then.”

The blond man had the look of an ex-Navy type, but so did a lot of other men who’d never been closer to an ocean than the Mojave Desert. “So evidently we need an ex-Navy type who specialized in communications. What else do we need?”

Slater ticked them off on blunt fingers. “We need a Spanish-speakin’ type a little rigid in the nostrils. We need a guy who can navigate a forty-footer by dead reckonin'. Erikson says he has men for both slots. We need a guy who’s a specialist with locks, explosives, alarm systems, an’ the art of gettin’ cash out of places it’s not considered possible to get it out. That’s you. An’ we need a guy who knows where the cash is.” Slater grinned again. “That’s me.”

At least it sounded as though some planning had gone into the project. “A Spanish-speaking type and a boat,” I said. “Is this the place to say I’m allergic to South American prisons?”

Slater’s stare was level. “If we miss on this one, you’ll never see a prison.”

“So? A blindfold and a last cigarette?”

“Correct.”

No lace panties on that pork chop. I thought it over for a moment. “I’d need to know more about this man Erikson,” I said.

“I thought you’d think so,” Slater said comfortably. He started to raise his right arm, then paused. “I’m gonna take somethin’ out of my jacket pocket, okay?”

“Carefully,” I answered him.

In slow motion he removed a flat, foil-wrapped disc a little larger than a hockey puck. He removed the foil and showed me a reel of tape. “Call the desk an’ ask them if they have a tape recorder,” he said.

I picked up the phone. “Do you have a tape recorder I can borrow for a few minutes?” I asked the front desk clerk.

“We have a tape recorder you can rent for as long as you like,” he reproved me gently.

The marts of commerce. “That’s fine. Send it up to 304.”

“Let me call Erikson before he gets to thinkin’ I’ve run out on him,” Slater suggested. “He’s bound to get nervous when he bounces off the door of that phony room you gave us.”

He moved to the phone when I made no objection. “Our man blocked you out of the play, Karl,” he said after he had asked the operator to have Karl Erikson paged in the bar. “Give me ten minutes to tell him the proposition an’ we’ll pipe you aboard.” He listened for a moment and his mouth drew down at the corners. “You know any way you’re not gonna give me the ten minutes?” he asked softly, and hung up the phone. “Likes to think he’s in charge sixty seconds every minute,” he said to me.

There was a knock at the door. I went to it as Slater stepped into the bathroom, out of sight. I took the portable tape recorder from the bellboy and signed the receipt for it. Slater came out of the bathroom, took the recorder from me, placed it on the desk, and threaded the tape onto it with fingers that looked clumsy but weren’t. “Okay, here’s your sales pitch,” he announced, and flipped a switch.

For a second there was nothing. Then there was a scratchy sound followed by an authoritative voice. “Watch yourself inside there, Slater. Don’t forget I want to see the palms of your hands after you shake hands.” There was the squeak of a hinge, a shuffle of feet, and a solid-sounding reverberant clang of metal on metal. I could visualize a barred door closing. It’s a sound never forgotten. I’d listened to it for five years when I was a kid. I’d made up my mind then I was never going to listen to it again.

The feet shuffled again, and then there were a few seconds’ silence. “ ‘Bout time you showed up again, man,” Slater’s voice said. It was followed by a whisper, the prison whisper that pierces the ears at three feet and is inaudible at ten. “Did the screw sit you down here, Erikson? Don’t answer out loud.” There was no reply. “Beef about the light an’ let’s move,” the whisper continued.

“I can’t see here,” another voice complained in a normal tone. “Can we move to another table?” There was a renewed shuffling of feet followed by the sound of heavy bodies sinking into chairs. “You realize that all these table locations could be bugged, of course,” the same voice said softly. It had a hollow sound, as though the walls were farther removed. Where was the microphone, I wondered?

“Naaaah. They’d have to hire too many more guards just to listen in.”

“You didn’t move me the last time,” Erikson said.

“The story is that nothin’s bugged till after the third visit.”

“So we qualify.” Erikson’s tone was thoughtful.

“That’s why I figured we should move.” A note of urgency entered Slater’s voice. “What’s the word?”

“Your story holds together. The money was actually sent down there just before everything blew up. Although it was never publicized, I found out that the guarded money truck was waylaid. There’s still only your word that you were part of the hijack gang.” There was a brief pause. I could picture the two men sitting there eyeing each other. “How many men do you claim were with you?”

“Not how many men I
claim
were with me,” Slater’s voice rasped irritably. “We were
there
, damn it. Four of us. Big Al Lusky, Pancho Valdez, Digger McAllister, an’ me. Digger an’ I were the only ones who made it off the island, an’ Digger bought the farm a year later in a bar in Tangier.”

“Making you the sole survivor of the hijack.”

“How many times I gotta tell you that?”

“How many men were guarding the shipment?”

“Five,” Slater’s voice replied. “A guard with the driver, an’ three more in back with the cash. Al an’ Pancho got careless after we stopped the truck an’ the sacks were passed down. They caught it from a machine gun in the truck’s front seat. Digger lost his cool an’ lobbed a grenade into the truck. I know there were five of ‘em in the truck, although nobody stopped to count the pieces afterward.”

“And the money has never been recovered?”

“Nobody could find it.”

“But you can find it?”

“You’re damn right I can.” Slater’s tone was positive.

“You waited long enough to say anything about it.”

“Listen, at first I was gonna sweat out this jolt here an’ go back myself. Then after the trouble I had in Statesville”—there was a pause—“well, I’m not goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Not for forty years.” Erikson’s tone was dry. “Not without outside help. It makes me wonder why with this on your mind you didn’t stay out of trouble until you were eligible for parole.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man!” Slater’s voice hardened. “You don’t act in these places. You react. I didn’t want trouble, but I was pushed. The warden moved me over here to Joliet after I killed that joker in case his friends came lookin’ for me. By that time the friends knew better.”

“You’d never have made it back there for the cash by yourself, anyway.”

“I wasn’t goin’ by myself. I had a man in mind for the job. A good man. As far as I’m concerned, he’s still in.”

“Who’s the man?”

“His name wouldn’t mean nothin’ to you. All you need to know right now is that he’s got ability we’ll need at that end of the line, an’ for a bonus he can shoot the left teat off a female mosquito at a hundred yards.”

“I’d need to know considerably more about him than that.” Erikson’s tone was icy.

“He’ll tell you himself when I introduce you.” Slater’s voice was just as cold. ”
If
we ever put this thing together. Did you talk financing to your people?”

“We don’t have a deal yet. As you just pointed out. But if and when we do, there’ll be no cash thrown around. We’ll get you out of here, and we’ll take care of some of the arrangements, but there’s no intention of sending good money after bad.”

“You chintzy, chicken-livered nickel-nursers!” Slater’s voice complained bitterly. “All right, then. All the more reason you got to take my man. This job’s gonna take cash, an’ he’ll produce it.”

“Speaking of cash, how much did you say was in the hijack?” The question was slipped in smoothly.

“Who adds up bills when they’re runnin'?” Slater’s tone was suspicious. “Pancho Valdez said the take would be two million U.S., an’ he was high enough up in the treasury department there to know.”

“More than twice that was sent down there.”

There was a soft whistle. ”
Four
million?”

“Plus two hundred thousand.”

“Maybe Pancho was figurin’ on givin’ us a fast count,” Slater suggested. “All I know is that whatever was there is still there.”

“Did you open a sack after the hijack?”

“Sure we did.”

“What did you find?”

“Bundles of thousand-dollar bills wrapped in green bands.”

“You didn’t take even a few samples?”

“Where were we gonna spend it? It was supposed to be a temporary cache, but a week later the whole face of nature changed down there, an’ all I wanted was out. Then while I was plannin’ on how I was goin’ back I got grabbed on the phony deal that landed me in Statesville.”

“Let me ask you why—”

Slater’s voice overrode Erikson’s. “What’s all the futzin’ around about? You know I was in on the heist. You know how much cash was sent down there. You know it’s never been found or the bills would’ve been traced. Are you gonna go for this thing or aren’t you?”

“You’re sure nobody saw you hide the cash?”

“Nobody left alive.” Slater said it sullenly. “Don’t bug me, man. I’m tired of sittin’ in this stinkin’ hole. I wanna know what you’re gonna do. Just kind of keep it in mind you’re not the only fish in the ocean.”

“Just the only fish that can spring the locks on this place for you.” There was a short silence. “In that climate paper money could have rotted away in the length of time you’ve been tucked away here. I’d hate to sweat the action and find pulp.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.”

“Why should you worry when you’re trading your share for life on the outside?” For the first time there was an edge in Erikson’s voice.

“That’s right,” Slater agreed. His tone was unexpectedly jovial. “But don’t worry about it. The cash is okay.” His voice changed. “You don’t sound like you did the last time you were here. Don’t tell me the wheels turned you down on the project an’ you’re thinkin’ of makin’ the play yourself?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you’re flingin’ around expense money.” Slater’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“Let’s just say that everything is being left to me to decide.” Again there was a brief silence. “And I’ve decided. We’ll set it up for five men.”

“What the hell! Four can handle it.”

“No. We’ll use five. You and your pro with the cash. Me and a man I’ll choose. Plus a boat operator to get us out.”

“Have it your way. When do you spring me?”

“It will take a while to set it up. In the meantime, give me a lead and I’ll contact this buddy of yours for you.”

“Quickest way I know to run him underground,” Slater countered. “I’ll have a pal put out a flag for him. Sometimes he don’t surface for a good long time. Say, hadn’t you better open up that briefcase an’ make out like you’re doin’ a little lawyerin'?”

“Good idea.”

There was the sound of a clasp snapping open and then the rustle-rattle of paper. A period of silence followed before Erikson’s voice was heard again. “That’s it for now, Slater,” he said. “You’ll hear from us.”