The Hot Rock (16 page)

“On the other hand,” Dortmunder said, “I’m giggling all over.”

They were all sitting around the Major’s office, having arrived in time to interrupt his lunch. Prosker, in dirt stained pajamas and bathrobe, was sitting in the middle, where everyone could see him. The Major was behind his desk, and Dortmunder and the others were grouped in a semicircle facing him.

Prosker said, “I continue to be sincerely sorry. It was shortsighted of me, but I moved in haste and now regret in leisure.” He had a nicely developing black eye.

“Just shut up,” Greenwood told him, “or I’ll give you something else to regret.”

“I hired you people in the first place,” the Major said, “because you were supposed to be professionals, you were supposed to know how to do the job right.”

Kelp, stung, said, “We are professionals, Major, and we did do the job right. We’ve done four jobs, and we did them all right. We got away with the emerald. We broke Greenwood out of jail. We got into the police station and back out again. And we kidnaped Prosker from the asylum. We’ve done everything right.”

“Then why,” the Major said angrily, “don’t I have the Balabomo Emerald?” He held a hand out, empty palm up, to demonstrate that he didn’t have it.

“Circumstances,” Kelp said. “Circumstances have conspired against us.”

The Major snorted.

Chefwick said, “Major, at the moment you are short tempered, and it’s perfectly understandable. But so are we, and also with justification. I won’t speak for myself, Major, but I will tell you that in my twenty–three years in this business I have gotten to know a large number of people engaged in it, and I assure you this team could not be improved upon anywhere.”

“That’s right,” Kelp said. “Take Dortmunder. That man’s a genius. He’s sat down and worked out four capers in four months and brought every last one of them off. There isn’t another man in the business could have done that. There isn’t another man in the business could have organized the Prosker kidnaping alone, much less the other three jobs.”

Greenwood said, “And what Chefwick said about the rest of us goes double for Chefwick, because not only is he one of the best lock men in the business, he is a grade–A first class railroad engineer.”

Chefwick blushed with pleasure and embarrassment.

The Major said, “Before you all start proposing toasts to one another, let me remind you that I still do not have the Balabomo Emerald.”

“We know that, Major,” said Dortmunder. “We still don’t have our forty grand each either.”

“You’re getting it an inch at a time,” the Major said angrily. “Do you realize I have so far paid out over twelve thousand dollars to you people in salaries alone? Plus nearly eight thousand in materiel and supplies for all these practice robberies you keep performing. Twenty thousand dollars, and what do I have to show for it? The operation was successful, but the patient died. It just won’t do. It won’t do any more, and that’s final.”

Dortmunder heaved himself to his feet. “That’s all right by me, Major,” he said. “I came down here willing to give it one more try, but if you want to call it off, I won’t fight you. Tomorrow’s an anniversary for me, I’ll be out of the pen four months tomorrow, and all I’ve done in all that time is run around after that goddam emerald of yours. I’m sick of it, if you want the truth, and if Prosker hadn’t goaded me into it I would have quit before this caper.”

“Something else for me to be sorry for,” Prosker said fatalistically.

“Shut up, you,” Greenwood said.

Kelp was on his feet, saying, “Dortmunder, don’t get mad. You too, Major, there’s no point everybody getting mad at everybody. This time we know for sure where the emerald is.”

“If Prosker isn’t lying,” the Major said.

“Not me, Major,” Prosker said.

“I said shut up,” Greenwood said.

“He isn’t lying,” Kelp said. “He knows if we get into that bank and there’s no emerald, we’ll come back to see him and this time we’ll get rough.”

“A smart lawyer knows when to tell the truth,” Prosker said.

Greenwood leaned over and rapped Prosker on the knee. “You didn’t shut up yet,” he said.

Kelp was saying, “The point is, this time we know for sure where it is. It’s there, and it can’t be moved. We’ve got the only guy who could move it, and we’re holding on to him. If we just do our jobs like we always do, the stone is ours. So we don’t have to get mad at each other. It isn’t your fault, Major, and it isn’t your fault, Dortmunder, it’s just the breaks of the game. One more caper and we’re done, it’s over, and everybody’s still friends.”

“I’ve heard of the habitual criminal, of course,” Prosker said pleasantly, “but this may be the first instance in the history of the world of a habitual crime.”

Greenwood leaned over and jabbed Prosker in the ribs. “You keep talking,” he said. “Stop it.”

The Major said, “One thing I don’t understand. Dortmunder, you claim to be sick of this whole business. You had to be persuaded by your friends to join in on this most recent chapter, and the time before that it took a promise of more money per week and a higher payment at the end to induce you to go on. But now, all at once you are prepared to continue with no persuasion, no arguing for more money, no hesitation of any kind. I frankly don’t understand it.”

“That emerald,” Dortmunder said, “is an albatross around my neck. I used to think I could get away from it, but now I know better. I could walk out of here now, try to find something else to do with my life, but sooner or later that goddam emerald would pop up again, I’d be right back in the middle of the mess again. When Prosker told us this morning what he’d done with it, I all of a sudden knew it was destiny. Either I get that emerald, or the emerald gets me, and until it happens one way or the other I’m stuck with it. I can’t get free, so why fight it?”

“A bank on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan,” the Major said, “is a far cry from an upstate sanitarium, or even a Long Island prison.”

“I know it,” Dortmunder said.

“This could very well be the most difficult job you’ve ever attempted.”

“It definitely is,” Dortmunder said. “The New York City banks got the most sophisticated alarm and camera systems in the world, plus grade–A guards, plus plenty of city cops just outside the door. Plus the traffic jam that midtown is always in the middle of, that you can’t even make a getaway.”

“You know all that,” the Major said, “but you still want to go on with it?”

“We all do,” Kelp said.

“It’s a matter of honor,” Murch said. “Like not getting passed on the right.”

“I want to go on with it,” Dortmunder said, “to the point that I want to look over the bank and see is there anything I can do about it. If I can’t, then that’s it.”

The Major said, “You’ll want to be on salary while making up your mind, is that it?”

Dortmunder looked at him. “You think I’m here for the two hundred a week?”

“I don’t know,” the Major said. “By this time, I don’t know anything for sure any more.”

Dortmunder said, “I’ll give you your answer within one week. If the answer’s no, that’s only one week’s salary you’ve blown. In fact, Major, just because you’re getting me irritated I’ll tell you that if the answer’s no, for myself, I’ll give you back the two hundred.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” the Major said. “The two hundred dollars isn’t the point.”

“Then stop talking as though it is. I’ll give you your answer in one week.”

“No need to hurry,” the Major said. “Take your time. I’m just upset, that’s all, just as all of you are upset. For the same reason. And Kelp is right, we shouldn’t fight among ourselves.”

“Why not?” Prosker asked, smiling at them.

Greenwood leaned over and knuckled Prosker behind the ear. “You’re starting up again,” he said. “Better don’t.”

The Major pointed at Prosker and said, “What about him?”

Dortmunder said, “He told us where to find the key in his office, so we don’t need him any more. But we can’t let him go yet. You got a basement?”

The Major looked surprised. “You want me to hold him for you?”

“Temporarily,” Dortmunder said.

Prosker looked at the Major and said, “It’s called accessory after the fact.”

Greenwood stretched and kicked Prosker on the shin, saying, “When are you gonna learn?”

Prosker turned to him and said, calmly but with some irritation, “Greenwood, stop that.”

Greenwood stared at him in astonishment.

The Major said to Dortmunder, “I don’t like keeping him here, but I suppose you have no other place.”

“That’s right.”

The Major shrugged. “Very well then.”

“We’ll see you later,” Dortmunder said and started for the door.

“Just a moment,” the Major said. “Please wait till I bring in reinforcements. I’d rather not be alone with my prisoner.”

“Sure,” said Dortmunder, and he and the other four stood clustered near the door while the Major got on his intercom. Prosker sat in the middle of the room, smiling amiably at everybody, his right hand thrust into his bath robe pocket, and a few minutes later two burly black men came in and saluted the Major, reporting in some foreign tongue.

“I’ll be in touch, Major,” Dortmunder said.

“Good,” the Major said. “I do still have confidence in you, Dortmunder.”

Dortmunder grunted and went on out, followed by the other four.

The Major, in his native language, told the two burly men to lock Prosker in the basement. They proceeded to obey, picking Prosker up by the elbows, when Prosker said conversationally to the Major, “A nice bunch of boys, those, but awfully naive.”

“Goodbye, Advocate Prosker,” the Major said.

Prosker still looked relaxed and amiable as the burly men started him toward the door. “Do you realize,” he said easily, “that it hasn’t occurred to even one of them to ask himself if you really intend to pay off when you get the emerald?”

“
Moka!
” said the Major, and the burly men stopped halfway to the door. “
Kamina loba dai,
” said the Major, and the burly men turned Prosker around and carried him back to his chair and sat him down in it. “
Torolima,
” the Major said, and the burly men left the room.

Prosker sat there smiling.

The Major said, “Did you give them any such idea?”

“Of course not,” said Prosker.

“Why not?”

“Major,” sad Prosker, “you are black and I am white. You are a military man and I am an attorney. You are African and I am American. But somehow I sense a kinship between us, Major, that I just don’t feel between myself and any of those five worthy gentlemen who just left.”

The Major slowly sat down again behind his desk. “What’s in it for you, Prosker?” he said.

Prosker smiled again. “I was hoping you’d tell me, Major,” he said.

“Anybody else here?”

“Everybody except the beer and salt. The other bourbon has your glass.”

“Thanks.”

Dortmunder walked through to the back room, where Kelp and Greenwood and Chefwick were sitting around the round table under the green–metal–shaded light. The table was covered with indictable evidence of a crime being planned, meaning photographs and sketches and even blueprints of the 46th Street and Fifth Avenue branch of the Capitalists & Immigrants National Bank (whose television mascot was a German shepherd with the slogan ‘Let C&I be the seeing–eye to all your banking needs’).

Dortmunder sat down in front of the empty glass, exchanged hellos with the others, and poured some bourbon. He drank, put the glass down, and said, “Well? What do you think?”

“Bad,” said Kelp.

“Rotten,” said Greenwood.

“I agree,” said Chefwick. “What do you think, Dortmunder?”

The door opened and Murch came in. Everybody said hello, and he said, “I made a mistake this time.” He sat down in the vacant chair and said, “I thought it might be a good idea to take Pennsylvania Avenue to the Interborough, and then Woodhaven Boulevard to Queens Boulevard and the Fifty–Ninth Street Bridge, but it didn’t work out. You got a lot of bad traffic there, especially on Queens Boulevard, the kind that just mopes along but takes up all the lanes to do it, so you get caught by the lights a lot. Otherwise I’d of been here ahead of time.”

Dortmunder said to him, “The question is, what do you think of this bank job?”

“Well, you’re not going to make a getaway,” Murch told him, “that’s one thing for sure. Now, Forty–Sixth Street is one way eastbound, and Fifth Avenue is one way southbound, which gives you only half the usual directions just to begin with. Then there’s the problem of traffic lights. There’s a traffic light at every intersection in Manhattan, and they’re all red. If you go over Forty–Sixth toward Madison, you’ll get all tied up in the middle of the block somewhere. If you go south on Fifth Avenue, you might be able to keep moving because they’ve got staggered lights, but even so they’re set for something like twenty–two miles an hour, and you just don’t make a getaway at twenty–two miles an hour.”

Dortmunder said, “What about at night?”

“Less traffic,” Murch said, “but just as many lights. And there’s always cops around midtown, so you don’t want to run any lights, and even if you do you’ll get hit by a cab in the first ten blocks. Day or night, you don’t make any getaway by car.”

Greenwood said, “Helicopter again?”

Kelp answered him, saying, “I thought about that, but it’s no good. It’s a forty–seven–story building, with the bank on the ground floor. You can’t put the helicopter in the street, and if you put it on the roof you’ve got to make a getaway by elevator, which is also no good, because all the cops have to do is turn off the power to the elevator while we’re in it and come collect us like canned sardines.”

“Right,” Murch said. “There is no method to make a getaway from Forty–Sixth Street and Fifth Avenue, and that’s all there is to it.”

Dortmunder nodded and said to Chefwick, “What about locks?”

Chefwick shook his head. “I haven’t been down in the vault,” he said, “but just from what I could see up on the main floor they don’t have the kind of locks you pick. It would take blasting, probably some drilling. A lot of time, and a lot of noise.”

Dortmunder nodded again and looked around at Kelp and Greenwood. “Any suggestions? Any ideas?”

Kelp said, “I thought about going through walls, but it can’t be done. You take a look on that blueprint there, you’ll see not only is the vault underground, surrounded by rocks and telephone company cable and power lines and water pipes and God knows what all, but the walls are eight foot–thick reinforced concrete with sensor alarms that ring at the local precinct house.”

Greenwood said, “I spent some time working out what would happen if we just walked in and pulled guns and said this is a stick–up. In the first place, we’d get our pictures taken, which any other time is all right with me, but not in the middle of a heist. Also, everybody in the joint has foot alarms under where they work. Also, the downstairs entrance to the vault is always barred shut unless there’s somebody going down there on legitimate business, and there’s two barred doors with a room in between, and they never have both doors open at the same time. I also think they have other stuff that I’m not sure of. Even if we could work out some kind of getaway, there’s no job in there to make a getaway from.”

“That’s right,” Dortmunder said. “I came to the same conclusion as you guys. I just wanted to hear did any of you think of something I missed.”

“We didn’t,” Chefwick said.

“You mean that’s it?” Kelp said. “We give it up? The job can’t be done?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dortmunder said. “I didn’t say the job couldn’t be done. But what we’ve all said is that none of us could do it. It isn’t a place for a frontal attack. We’ve hit up Iko for trucks, for a helicopter, for a locomotive, I’m sure we could hit him up for just about anything we’d need. But there’s nothing he could give us that would do the trick. He could give us a tank and it wouldn’t help.”

“Because we’d never get away in it,” Murch said.

“That’s right.”

“Though it might be fun to drive one,” Murch said thoughtfully.

Kelp said, “Wait a minute. Dortmunder, if you say none of us could pull this job, you’re saying the job can’t be done. What’s the difference? We’re shot down whatever way you say it.”

“No, we’re not,” Dortmunder said. “There’s five of us here, and none of the five of us could get that emerald out of that bank. But that doesn’t mean nobody in the world could do it.”

Greenwood said, “You mean bring in somebody new?”

“I mean,” Dortmunder said, “bring in a specialist. This time we need a specialist outside the string, so we bring one in.”

“What kind of a specialist?” Greenwood said, and Kelp said, “Who?”

“Miasmo the Great,” Dortmunder said.

There was a little silence, and then everybody began to smile. “That’s nice,” Greenwood said.

Kelp said, “You mean for Prosker?”

“I wouldn’t trust Prosker,” Dortmunder said.

Everybody stopped smiling, and looked baffled instead. Chefwick said, “If not Prosker, who?”

“An employee of the bank,” Dortmunder said.

Everybody started smiling again.