Invitation to Violence (2 page)

    Yeah, if he, Jake Riddle, had to knock off a hundred jewelry stores, if he had to rob and murder or anything else, his kid was going to have the best. Sammy deserved the best. He was a fine boy; a good boy. Smart. A damned sight smarter than his old man, sitting here driving a hot car on a hotter job.

    They arrived in Manhasset in just under thirty minutes. The movie theater was in the center of the block, on the right-hand side of the street and someone had just cut out the marquee lights as the last show was already underway and the box office had been closed for the night.

    The theater was a segment in a series of buildings recently constructed and the builder, fully conversant with both modern design and modern necessity, had arranged so that a large area in back of the structures could be devoted to a parking area. An alley leading into this parking lot lay between the theater itself and the block of stores next to it on the eastern side. Jake held out his hand and signaled before making the turn and swinging the car down the long ramp.

    The lot was still pretty well filled with cars of theater patrons and they found a place to park near the back fence, between a Caddie and a Pontiac station wagon.

    Jake cut out the lights and the three of them got out. They left everything in the car. Jake checked to be sure that the right key was on the ring, and then locked the doors after winding up the windows.

    A man and a woman were getting into a car in the next aisle and they waited a moment or two, until the man had started his motor and pulled away. Then they walked quickly to the rear of the theater.

    Candy was there, where he'd promised to be, next to the door with the dim, red-lighted EXIT sign over it. He was in his uniform and he looked like a frail, black ghost. He was looking down at the luminous dial of his wrist watch and his voice was a thin, nervous whisper.

    "O.K," he said. "O.K, snap it up. I been here too long already. They'll be wondering up front."

    He stepped aside and they quickly entered. Candy closed the door after them and locked it and then brushed past them, leading the way down the long hall and to the stairs. He went down first, muttering a whispered warning that they watch their step.

    He didn't wait once they were in the tiny, unused dressing room, a throwback to the mistaken idea of the ex-manager who had hoped to put on amateur nights.

    "No noise," he said, "an' don't smoke. No lights."

    He flicked on a cigarette lighter giving them time to find the folding chairs and seat themselves and then stole out of the room like a soft breath of wind.

    None of them spoke. They sat there, each silent and buried in his own thoughts.

    At least I've told the truth up to this point, was the thought going through Vince Dunne's mind. He smiled secretly to himself. He'd told" Sue he was going to the movies and he
was
in the movies. It would be a little tricky, later on, after he got his cut, but he'd figure out something. Give her a song and dance about a job and so be able to account for the money he'd have. But he'd have to be awfully damned careful about it. He was still on parole; a ward of the state until his twenty-first birthday. So-he'd just be careful, that was all.

    He began then to think about the next couple of hours and in spite of himself, he could feel the sweat coming out on his forehead. It was going to be big time all right.

    Dommie was thinking about girls. He didn't want to think about what they were going to do. He'd been in on other jobs before, but nothing quite like this. Nothing in the real money. It was new to him and he wasn't at all sure of himself, but he didn't have any real worries about it. He knew that everything was planned down to the last detail. Knew that Jake, and that other one, the real big guy, had everything laid out.

    The stuff was up there, in the store next door, and all they had to do was go in and get it. The only thing which bothered him at all was the knowledge that the Pinkerton man was up there also. It wasn't as though he was a real cop, but Dommie knew that he carried a gun and had a license to use it. Dommie just hoped that the business with the gas would work out all right.

    He shook his head and muttered an oath under his breath. The hell with it; it wouldn't get him anywhere worrying about things. He went back to thinking about girls. Man, this little deal was going to make it a lot simpler. Money, plenty of money, could solve any problem. Especially the girl problem.

    Jake, on the other hand, made a conscientious effort to keep his mind off anything but the immediate work in front of them. He didn't want to think about young Sammy or young Sammy's mother. Somehow, sitting here waiting to pull the job, it just didn't seem right to think of your wife and your son.

    His mind went to the place next door and what he knew was in that place. And it was there all right. He'd seen the stuff only that morning, soon after the store had opened.

    God, a quarter of a million in jewels! And out here in the sticks. It just hadn't seemed possible. But of course it was possible and the stuff was there, just where the newspapers had said it would be. It certainly made an impressive display. And for a lousy little local jewelry store in the center of a shopping center.

    Of course it was true that the store was a branch of a big important Fifth Avenue store and the stuff was only there as a sort of publicity stunt during opening week, but still and all. It was really something. No wonder they kept the private cop on duty day and night.

    
That
certainly wasn't a part of the publicity stunt. After all, neighborhood jewelry shops aren't exactly equipped to carry a quarter of a million in ice in their tin safes. And it was a lucky thing they weren't, too. Otherwise he and these punks wouldn't be sitting here waiting around to take it away.

    Dommie suddenly spoke, his voice sounding hollow in the confines of the small room.

    "Must be at least an hour by now," he said.

    "Shut up," Jake quickly growled. "No talking. Hasn't been more'n about fifteen, twenty minutes. Just sit tight and shut up."

    Vince coughed and quickly covered his mouth. He knew Jake would be only too well aware of exactly what time it was, watch or no watch. He himself knew that the picture upstairs would be off at around eleven-fifteen; that the place would be cleared out within another ten to fifteen minutes. Candy was the one who would close up. He was the last man out. Candy could be counted on. He'd be down to get them a couple of minutes before he was ready to lock up for the night. And then they'd have exactly five minutes to get out and get the stuff from the car and get back inside again.

    Candy returned at exactly twenty minutes to twelve. He knocked very softly on the door and a second later opened it and entered. He waited until he was inside before he switched on the flashlight. He'd changed from his usher's uniform to his street clothes.

    "O.K," he said. "Let's go. I wanna get out of here and get home as soon as possible and get my alibi set. I'm the one they're goin' to be questioning an' I gotta be ready."

    He used a small pencil flash and they followed him upstairs. Back at the exit door, Vince stayed behind with Candy as Dommie and Jake returned to the car.

    Jake was careful to make sure that the parking lot was empty and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Ford sedan sitting alone against the fence.

    Quickly they went to the car and Jake unlocked the door and reached in for the suitcase, handing it to Dommie.

    "Take this and the guns," he said, "and be careful. Give 'em to Vince and get right back. I can handle the tank alone, but I'll need help with the hose and the tools."

    As Dommie left, Jake closed the door and then went around to the front of the car and lifted the hood. He put the brace under it and returned to the rear of the sedan, opening the trunk. By the time Dommie had returned, he'd removed the steel tank and was taking out the coiled-up hose.

    He closed the trunk and turned and followed Dommie back to the EXIT door of the theater, carrying the tank carefully in both arms. Dommie had the hose draped over his shoulder.

    "You left the hood up," Dommie whispered.

    "Sure I left it up," Jake said in a low, irritated voice. "The cops check this lot two or three times a night. Looking for kids who come in here for little parties. They see the car with the hood up, they won't bother it. They'll figure some guy had trouble. Anyway, don't worry. Just get moving."

    Back in the theater, Jake waited until Candy had once again closed and locked the doors.

    "Grab one of the bags," he said.

    "Not me, boy," he said. "I ain't got no gloves on an' I ain't leaving no prints on nothing."

    He led the way once more, this time turning halfway down the hall and entering the theater proper from a side door. The others followed him with their burdens. They went up the aisle and just before coming to the end of the long rows of seats, Candy stopped for a second.

    "I'm turning off the light now," he said. "We're going into the lobby and anyone going by can see the reflection. You have to work it in the dark."

    He went on and they passed through the double doors.

    Two red lights over exit doors leading off the lobby, kept burning twenty-four hours a day, cast a dim, eerie light and they could just barely make out each other's shadowy figures.

    "You all are on your own," Candy said. Once more he moved off like a disembodied ghost, and a second later they heard the slam of the outside door and then the sharp click of the lock as Candy pulled it tight.

    Jake gently put the tank on the floor and took a small spot flashlight from his pocket.

    "No talking now," he said. As he spoke he switched on the light aiming it up on the wall to his left where he knew the vent would be. The fight was on for only a split second but in that brief moment they all saw it. The grilled vent which led outside, but which they knew was only a few inches from a similar vent leading into the building next door.

    "Get the hose attached and then hand me the end of it," Jake said. "Vince, you find a damned chair or something I can stand on. And both of you be careful not to hit the valve on that tank. One mistake and they'll find us all laying here when they open up for the matinee tomorrow afternoon."

    Five minutes later Jake stepped down from the leather seat of the chair.

    "She's in," he said, "in and I got her plugged up around the hose as well as I can. But you better get the gas masks ready, just in case."

    He leaned down and fumbled around for a minute and then found the valve on the gas tank. Quickly he turned it on full.

    "O.K," he said, "back into the theater now. Get the tools out and have everything set. We got time, but we want everything ready. We'll give it another twenty-five minutes, just to be on the safe side. If that Pinkerton hasn't passed out by then, nothing will ever knock him over."

    He turned the flash on his wrist watch.

    "At exactly a quarter to one we start breaking through the wall. I figure twenty minutes for that at the most. And be damned sure to keep the masks on."

    Once again he flicked on the light and quickly looked at the others.

    "Dommie," he said, "get the chopper out. Get out into the lobby and stay right there. Stay where you can watch the street. Anything suspicious, just the two short whistles. If anything happens once we get into the jewelry store, I expect you to stay right there and cover us until we get a chance to get out. Remember one thing, it'll only take us five minutes once we get through the wall."

    "A lot can happen in five minutes," Dommie said.

    "A hellofa lot can happen," Jake said. "But that's just why you are going to be out there with the chopper. The chopper is the difference. All you have to do is remember that. The difference."

    "You think it would be safe to light a butt?" Vince asked. "They can't see nothing in here."

    "No," Jake said. "No cigarettes. And keep your voice low. Now Vince, just to review it. Once we get our hands on the stuff, I come back through the wall and pick up Dommie. We go out the way we came in, through the back door. We pick up the heap and drive around in front. You, Vince, come out through the front door of the jewelry store with the stuff. It's a simple snap lock, opening from the inside."

    Vince cleared his throat.

    "Only thing I don't like is my coming out through that front door," he said. "I still can't see why…"

    "I told you a thousand times," Jake said, irritation in his voice. "I told you. The one really dangerous moment is when we start to drive out of the parking lot. A police cruiser comes along then and stops us and they'd stop us for sure. We'd be blocked in and wouldn't have a hope. They check that parking lot two or three times a night. Looking for kids laying up. If by any chance they happen to hit us as Dommie and I are getting in, we got a chance to make a breakout. If we get caught, at least we ain't got the loot and we can ditch the guns when we see 'em coming.

    "But you'll be in the clear and you'll have the stuff. If everything goes all right, all you gotta do is walk out the front door. It's a snap lock and closes behind you. We'll be in front ready to pick you up and then, if the cops should happen by, at least we're not trapped. We're in the open and we got a chance."

    Dommie scratched a match to light a cigarette and Jake quickly cursed him and told him to put it out. And so they just sat there then, waiting.

    The second time Jake flicked on the light and checked his watch, he grunted and got up from where he was squatting on his heels.

    "All right, Dommie," he said. "Out front. This is it. Vince, let me have the sledge. Hold the light and keep it on the wall. This stuff is nothing but plaster and lathe and it should go like cheese."