morning.”
“Ah, an answer. And they want your company to pay them off, right?”
“Yep.”
“But if the goods is returned, you’d be prepared to pay something for it, no questions asked, right?”
“Benny, I’m asking questions. I haven’t asked my boss for a nickel yet.”
“Maybe you ought to,” Benny said.
Lockwood became more alert. “You know something, Benny?”
Benny smiled. “Easy, Hook. It’s just you catch more flies with something sweet than with nothing. How much?”
Lockwood reflected for a moment. “It ought to be worth five aces to TA, if the goods are recovered quickly and quietly.”
For the first time since Lockwood had arrived, Benny looked happy, as if the mention of a specific amount of money were a
tonic.
“Some score!” Benny said. “I can’t even remember that cheap boss of yours offering five Gs—you sure you can talk him into
going that high?”
“Depends on how quiet and how fast we get the goods,” Lockwood answered. “Speed’s important—the goods are perishable.”
Benny frowned. “A snatch? A baby belonging to some rich guy?”
Hook shook his head. “We don’t insure babies, Benny. If I could say more, you know I would.”
“You ain’t giving me much to go on—practically nothing, Hook.”
“Try this,” Lockwood said. “Whoever was in on the job could have got the layout of the place from one of his truck drivers.”
Benny squinted as he thought it through. “So—somebody who might have an interest in the trucking business out on the Island.”
“A somebody who knew how to use his drivers to pick up information.”
Benny nodded. “You going to be at the fight tomorrow?”
“Vecchio and Polanski? No.”
“Be there, Hook,” Benny said. “I might have something. I’ll leave you a couple of tickets at the box office. Ask Ernie for
them.”
“You’ve got a meet, Benny,” Lockwood said as he rose to go. If anybody could find out what the organization’s role at Northstar
was, it was Benny. Lockwood left satisfied.
Chapter 9
That night Lockwood woke up five separate times, which was five times more than usual. Each time he came out of a sound sleep
in order to enjoy the something good that was now in his life only to find that it wasn’t there, and he went back to sleep
excited and disappointed.
The something good was Myra Rodman, that she lived in the same world he lived in at all, and that Myra liked him enough to
have spent Thursday night with him. But she wasn’t in bed with him tonight, and he couldn’t go out to the Island tonight because
he needed to see Benny. Next week he might not need to revisit Northstar at all; the case might take him to Boston or Cincinnati.
When he woke up Saturday morning, a little groggy from the ups and downs of the night, he called Myra and invited her into
the city to spend the evening.
The warmth of her answer made him want to leap through the phone and kiss her. “Ummmm,” she said, “I’d love to, Bill.”
“I have to drop by the fights tonight,” he said. “But we don’t have to stay long.”
By 11:30 he was ready to go to his office. He called Mr. Gray first.
“How about some lunch?” Lockwood asked.
“I was about to call out,” Gray answered. “Could you bring—”
“—a pastrami on rye, mustard on the side, two pickles, light coffee,” Lockwood finished for him.
“Thanks,” Gray said in a surprised tone, as if he couldn’t figure out how Lockwood had known what he was going to order.
On the way up the elevator in the RCA Building, holding the two bags from Stage Deli, Lockwood shook his head over his boss’s
habits. He couldn’t figure out how any man could live, much less thrive, on a daily diet of forty cigarettes, three pastrami
sandwiches, six light coffees, and little else, if you didn’t count the six pickles.
Lockwood knew his boss. He waited till the last piece of the spiced meat had slithered over Mr. Gray’s
“Ah, an answer. And they want your company to pay them off, right?”
“Yep.”
“But if the goods is returned, you’d be prepared to pay something for it, no questions asked, right?”
“Benny, I’m asking questions. I haven’t asked my boss for a nickel yet.”
“Maybe you ought to,” Benny said.
Lockwood became more alert. “You know something, Benny?”
Benny smiled. “Easy, Hook. It’s just you catch more flies with something sweet than with nothing. How much?”
Lockwood reflected for a moment. “It ought to be worth five aces to TA, if the goods are recovered quickly and quietly.”
For the first time since Lockwood had arrived, Benny looked happy, as if the mention of a specific amount of money were a
tonic.
“Some score!” Benny said. “I can’t even remember that cheap boss of yours offering five Gs—you sure you can talk him into
going that high?”
“Depends on how quiet and how fast we get the goods,” Lockwood answered. “Speed’s important—the goods are perishable.”
Benny frowned. “A snatch? A baby belonging to some rich guy?”
Hook shook his head. “We don’t insure babies, Benny. If I could say more, you know I would.”
“You ain’t giving me much to go on—practically nothing, Hook.”
“Try this,” Lockwood said. “Whoever was in on the job could have got the layout of the place from one of his truck drivers.”
Benny squinted as he thought it through. “So—somebody who might have an interest in the trucking business out on the Island.”
“A somebody who knew how to use his drivers to pick up information.”
Benny nodded. “You going to be at the fight tomorrow?”
“Vecchio and Polanski? No.”
“Be there, Hook,” Benny said. “I might have something. I’ll leave you a couple of tickets at the box office. Ask Ernie for
them.”
“You’ve got a meet, Benny,” Lockwood said as he rose to go. If anybody could find out what the organization’s role at Northstar
was, it was Benny. Lockwood left satisfied.
Chapter 9
That night Lockwood woke up five separate times, which was five times more than usual. Each time he came out of a sound sleep
in order to enjoy the something good that was now in his life only to find that it wasn’t there, and he went back to sleep
excited and disappointed.
The something good was Myra Rodman, that she lived in the same world he lived in at all, and that Myra liked him enough to
have spent Thursday night with him. But she wasn’t in bed with him tonight, and he couldn’t go out to the Island tonight because
he needed to see Benny. Next week he might not need to revisit Northstar at all; the case might take him to Boston or Cincinnati.
When he woke up Saturday morning, a little groggy from the ups and downs of the night, he called Myra and invited her into
the city to spend the evening.
The warmth of her answer made him want to leap through the phone and kiss her. “Ummmm,” she said, “I’d love to, Bill.”
“I have to drop by the fights tonight,” he said. “But we don’t have to stay long.”
By 11:30 he was ready to go to his office. He called Mr. Gray first.
“How about some lunch?” Lockwood asked.
“I was about to call out,” Gray answered. “Could you bring—”
“—a pastrami on rye, mustard on the side, two pickles, light coffee,” Lockwood finished for him.
“Thanks,” Gray said in a surprised tone, as if he couldn’t figure out how Lockwood had known what he was going to order.
On the way up the elevator in the RCA Building, holding the two bags from Stage Deli, Lockwood shook his head over his boss’s
habits. He couldn’t figure out how any man could live, much less thrive, on a daily diet of forty cigarettes, three pastrami
sandwiches, six light coffees, and little else, if you didn’t count the six pickles.
Lockwood knew his boss. He waited till the last piece of the spiced meat had slithered over Mr. Gray’s
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