1977 - My Laugh Comes Last (10 page)

Klaus studied me, then his bleak face relaxed into a false smile.

'How very suspicious you are, Mr. Lucas. So what do you propose?'

'I can get your people into the vault, and with a little thinking, I can tell them how to get the loot out,' I said, 'but first you will give me bearer bonds for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. A million dollars is a nice sum, but I am sure, after the operation, I wouldn't get it, so I am prepared to settle; for a quarter. If you are not prepared to give me these bonds, then we both call each other's bluff. I'll have to face trial for a murder I didn't commit, and you won't get your revenge, but you will get Brannigan and the police after you. In six days' time, I will come to you with a complete plan: how to get into the vault and get away with the loot. It'll then be up to you. You either have the bonds for me or I don't handle the operation.’

'And how do I know, Mr. Lucas, that once I give you the bonds, you don't disappear?'

'I'm not likely to do that while you hold Glenda hostage.'

I got to my feet. 'Think it over. On Thursday night at nine o'clock, I will be waiting for Joe to bring me to you. I'll have my side of the deal set up. You have yours.'

Feeling much more in control of this nightmare situation, I walked out of the room, and into the lobby.

Benny was leaning against the wall, picking his teeth. He straightened when he saw me. I walked by him, opened the front door and walked into the hot night.

Joe was sitting in the Chevy, playing his harmonica. I got in the car.

‘Let's go, Joe,' I said, 'and don't spare the horses.'

He giggled and set the car in motion.

chapter five

A
s I walked into the outer office on Monday morning, my secretary, Mary Oldham, at her desk, looked up.

'Good morning, Mr. Lucas.'

'Hi, Mary! What's the mail like?'

'Lots of it. It's on your desk.' A pause, then she said, 'That's a terrible thing about Sheriff Thomson, isn't it?''

I stopped as if I had walked into a brick wall.

'Thomson?' I turned and stared at her. 'What happened?

'It was on the radio, Mr. Lucas. Didn't you catch it?'

'What happened?' I was aware my voice was shrill.

'Late last night: a hit-and-run driver. The poor man was walking to his car when this car deliberately hit him. Three people say they saw the car mount the sidewalk. Sheriff Thomson hadn't a chance.'

The Siberian wind blew over me.

'Is he - is he dead?'

'He's very bad. He's in hospital. They say he is m a serious condition.'

I head Klaus's dry voice saying: Never mind about the sheriff. I have already anticipated trouble from him, and I will take care of him.

So he had taken care of him. I stood there, feeling the blood leaving my face, then pulling myself together, I mumbled I was sorry and walked into my office. I sat down at my desk. I hadn't time even to think before Bill Dixon breezed in.

'I'm off to 'Frisco, Larry,' he said, and put a pile of papers on my desk. 'More work for you. Lowson wants us to equip them with their office furniture. It's the usual rush job. The details are all here.' He looked at me. ‘Did Brannigan give us credit?'

'I didn't get around to seeing him again,' I said, 'but he will. Don't worry about that.'

He grinned, 'That's your worry.' He looked at his watch. 'I must get off. Tough about Thomson. I liked the guy. He was a dedicated cop.'

I turned ice cold.

'Have you more news? I heard he was knocked down.'

'Heard it on the radio as I drove in,' Bill said. 'He died half an hour ago. What kills me is that three jerks actually saw this driver run him down, and none of them got his licence number nor even a description of the car. Some goddamn drunk. Thomson really had crime under control here. Maclain, his deputy, is less than useless. Well, I'm off. See you, Larry,' and he left.

I sat still, staring into space, I'll take care of him.

First Marsh, now Thomson. Two men dead to achieve a vicious revenge. I remembered what Glenda had said: He is a devil. I also remembered that both she and I were equally in the shadow of a violent end.

Then the telephone bell rang, and from then on, I was caught up for the rest of the day in non-stop work.

At 18.00, our small factory at the back of the office block closed for the day. Having cleared my desk, I went down and walked into the big room that housed our setup for repairs, for experiments and for new machines. My three engineers were on the point of leaving. Frank Dodge, my chief engineer, looked inquiringly at me.

'Something special, Mr. Lucas?' he asked. 'I'm in no hurry. Something I can do?'

'It's okay, Frank. I just want to work out an idea. You get off.'

When they had gone, I sat down at the bench. I worked until midnight on a gimmick that would unscramble the direct telephone line from the Los Angeles bank to the Sharnville bank. When I had finished, I knew all I had to do was to connect this gimmick with the telephone in Manson's office, and I could open the three locks of the vault.

Taking the gimmick with me, I returned to my apartment.

By now I had got over the shock of Thomson's death. He had been dangerous, and I had had the feeling he had been hostile to me. Deputy Sheriff Fred Maclain would take his place until the next election. I didn't have to worry about him. He was a big, grossly fat drunk who was good for nothing except bawling out traffic offenders. He could no more cope with a bank breakin than a six-year-old child.

But the red light was up. I knew now that Klaus was utterly ruthless, and nothing would stop him cutting Brannigan down to size. I was sure he would have me murdered if I failed to get his men into the vault. I also felt sure he now wouldn't go ahead with his blackmail threat. I had alerted him that if I were arrested for Marsh's murder, I would talk, and he was more than aware of Brannigan's power. Having discarded this blackmail threat to make me cooperate, he would now switch threats, and kill Glenda and me if I didn't get his men into the vault.

The next two days passed quickly. I had so much to do in the office, I hadn't time to think of Klaus, but, at night, when I was alone, I thought and planned, and by the third morning, I had a watertight plan for not only getting Klaus's men into the vault, but for them to get away with the loot. I also made other plans to take care of Glenda and myself.

During these three days, there was a tremendous uproar in the local press about Sheriff Thomson's death. The editor said it was shameful, and what were the police doing about it? Even the Mayor joined in. The paper carried a photo of Deputy Sheriff Maclain's fat, bloated face. He declared the police of Sharnville would never rest until they found this drunk driver. No one killed a fine man like Sheriff Thomson and got away with it . . . just words that meant nothing.

Thomson's funeral was attended by more than two thousand people. Every leading citizen, including Dixon and myself, was there. It was an experience I will never forget.

There was a long queue of important people to shake Mrs. Thomson's hand and mutter condolences. I couldn't face that. I told Dixon to represent us, and I moved out of the queue. He gave me an odd look, began to say I should do it, but I walked away.

That night, at 21.00, there was a ring on my doorbell. I had been waiting. I picked up my briefcase, opened the door and found Joe, waiting by the elevator. We rode down together, and got in the Chevy. I put my briefcase between us.

'So we're going into action, Mr. Lucas?' he said, as he started the engine. 'You've got it all fixed?'

'I wouldn't be here if I hadn't,' I said.

‘Yeah, man. Soon we'll all be on the gravy train. Man! Does this mean something to me! I've got a girl waiting. Me and she'll take off. I've got it all figured out. We're going to be in the gravy for the rest of our days!'

‘Did Benny kill the sheriff?'

He nodded.

'He sure did. Now, I don't dig Benny, but he sure does a job. That sonofabitch sheriff was like a boil on my arse. You know something, Mr. Lucas? I was driving along, nice and quiet, when this sonofabitch flagged me down. He wanted to know what I was doing in Sharnville. I smelt he hated black people. I told him I was passing through, and he said for me to keep passing.' Joe giggled. 'He was too smart. When a creep gets too smart, Mr. Klaus fixes him, and that sonofabitch was sure fixed.' There was a pause, then he went on, "You've really got this operation fixed, Mr. Lucas?'

"Yes, but it could still go wrong. You could still get twenty years, but that's your funeral.'

‘Yeah, man.' He gave a short barking laugh, 'but it sure would be your funeral too.' He drove the car out of the town traffic and on to the highway. 'The boss says there will be three million bucks in that vault. I can't sleep thinking of all that bread.'

This gave me the chance I was waiting for, 'What makes you think you're going to get any bread at all, Joe?' I asked.

I could see his black face in the light from the dashboard.

The muscles under his skin tightened.

'What was that again, Mr. Lucas?'

'I was just thinking aloud, forget it.'

'What was that about me not getting my share?' There was a sudden snarl in his voice.

'Forget it. If you're lucky, you'll get it . . . if you're lucky.'

He drove in silence for some moments. I lit a cigarette. I hadn't spent the past nights, thinking and planning, for nothing.

Finally, he said anxiously, "What you mean - lucky?’

'Are you lucky, Joe?'

He thought about this, his face worried.

'Lucky? I guess not. I've never been lucky. I've spent most of my life in jail. I get all the dirty work to do for the boss. No, I guess I ain't lucky.'

'Three million dollars!' I released a low whistle. 'That's a heap of money. I don't know what they have promised you, Joe. Maybe half a million. That's a lot of money for a black boy, but you could be lucky.'

He slowed the car and pulled into a lay-bay. He turned and glared at me.

'What are you getting at?' he demanded, alarm in his voice.

'Just stating a fact, Joe. That's a lot of money. What s to stop Benny putting a bullet through your head once he has the loot?'

He stared at me: the whites of his eyes enormous: his thick lips twitching.

'Harry wouldn't let him! What are you getting at?'

'Just warning you, Joe. I'll tell you something. I'm worried about Benny. He's a killer. I've got this operation fixed, but I am getting paid in advance. I'm covered, but you aren't. Now, think, Joe: can you imagine a killer like Benny would let a black boy walk away with five hundred thousand dollars? Ask yourself.'

Sweat broke out on his face.

'Harry will look after me.' He banged his big fists down on the steering wheel. 'I trust Harry.'

'That's fine, but it's news to me. I didn't know any black man could trust any white man when there's big money around. If you can trust Harry to take care of you, then you've nothing to worry about. I was only thinking aloud. Come on, let's get moving.'

He wiped his sweating face with the back of his hand.

'Are you trying to con me, Mr. Lucas?'

'It's a lot of money. Think about it. If you can really trust Harry, you have no problem... a little luck perhaps. Let's go . . . your boss is waiting.'

'If Benny tries anything with me,' he muttered 'I'll fix him.'

I had sown a seed of doubt in his mind, and that's what I wanted to do,

'Sure, but watch him, Joe. When you three get the loot, don't turn your back on him. Now, let's go.'

He sat for a long moment, muttering to himself, then he started the car and drove back on to the highway. I didn't want further talk, so I pressed down the cassette, and the car rocked with beat music.

Harry was at the gate. He waved to me as Joe drove by, I lifted my hand. I would now have to work on Harry. He was a very different proposition to Joe, but I had worked that out too.

As I got out of the car, Benny met me at the front door.

'Hi, fink,' he said. 'The boss is waiting.'

I looked him over, knowing he was the danger. There was a leering expression on his brutal face. I knew I could do nothing with him. I walked by him and into the living-room.

Klaus was sitting at his desk, his small brown hands resting on the blotter.

'Come in, Mr. Lucas, and sit down.'

As I sat down, Harry came in and moved over to a distant chair.

I twisted around and looked at him. I wondered about him. He was an unknown factor. He looked tough and cocky as he scratched his beard, but he hadn't Benny's brutal viciousness.

'This is Harry Brett,' Klaus said. 'From now on, Mr. Lucas, you and he will work together. You will tell him what you want, and he will arrange it.' He leaned back in his chair.

'I take it you can tell me how to break into the vault and how to get the money out?'

I stared at him.

‘Did you have to murder Sheriff Thomson?'

His hands turned into fists and his slate-grey eyes lit up with that maniacal glare.

'Let that be an example to you,' he snarled. 'When anyone obstructs or is likely to obstruct me, I get rid of him. Remember that! Now answer my question: can you tell me how to break into the vault and get the money out?'

'I can, but on my terms.'

‘We have gone into that already.' There was a snap in his voice. 'That we will discuss later.'

I glanced at Harry who was listening intently, ‘You are forcing me to betray a trust,' I said. You are blackmailing me for a murder I didn't commit. The evidence you have against me could put me in jail for years, and you know it is faked evidence. I have a trump card. I could tell Brannigan, and he would come after you, and make no mistake about it, he would nail you. Unless you meet my terms, I am prepared to stand trial, and I know you will also land in jail. I want advance payment if I tell you how to break into the vault.'

'We have gone into this before,' Klaus said impatiently. 'I will pay you as arranged if you can convince me we can break into the vault and get the money away.'