Jimmy the Kid

They all got into the Dodge, the three men in front, the two women in back with the boy between them. Angie said, "Bobbie, this is Gloria, a friend of mine."

"Hello, Bobby."

Bobby said, his face toward Angie, "You took your mask off. Your voice sounds different."

"You're the one with the mask on now," Angie told him. "We take turns."

"And be sure to leave it on," Ruth said. She sounded colder, more stern than Angie.

"I will," Bobby said. Angie had been continuing to hold his hand, and now Bobby squeezed her fingers, holding on.

13

When Dortmunder got to the intersection he made a U-turn and stopped, facing back the way he had come. He and May waited in the Caprice while Kelp got out and went around to the back of the car. Then he came around to the side again, rapped on Dortmunder's window, and when Dortmunder rolled the window down Kelp said, "I need the key."

"The what?"

"The key. For the trunk."

"Oh." The keys were all together on a key ring. Dortmunder switched off the engine and gave the keys to Kelp, who went and unlocked the trunk, then gave the keys to Dortmunder, then went back and got his sign. He stood there holding it, looking around but not doing anything, until Dortmunder leaned his head out and yelled, "What are you doing?"

"I forgot which one to block."

Dortmunder pointed. "That one. The one on the kid's route."

"Oh, yeah. Right."

Kelp went over and set up the sign. It was a three-by. four piece of thin metal that had once advertised 7-Up, and the shape of the bottle could still be seen vaguely through the yellow paint. Kelp had also thought to bring a triangular arrangement of sticks to lean the sign against, a detail not mentioned in Child Heist. He put the sign in place, then trotted back over to the Caprice and said, "How's that?"

Dortmunder looked at it. It said ROAD CLOSED — DETORE. He said, "Jesus H. Goddam Christ."

"What's the matter?" Kelp looked all around the intersection, worried. "Did I put it in the wrong place?"

"Do you have that goddam book on you?"

"Sure," Kelp said.

"Take it out," Dortmunder said, "and find the page where they set up the sign." Turning to May, he said, "I'm following a book he read, and he doesn't even know how to read."

Kelp said, "I got it."

"Look at it. Now look at the sign."

Kelp looked at the book. He looked at the sign. He said, "Son of a gun. Detour. I thought sure you-"

"You can't even read!"

May said, "It's okay, John, it really is. They'll just think some local highway department people didn't know how to spell."

Dortmunder considered that. "You think so?"

Kelp hopped into the back seat. "Sure," he said. "It makes it more realistic, like. Who'd expect a kidnap gang to put up a sign that's spelled wrong?"

"I would," Dortmunder said. "In fact, I'm surprised I didn't think to check."

"Listen, I don't want to push you," Kelp said, "but we ought to get down there to that dirt road."

"I wonder what next," Dortmunder said. He started the engine, drove a quarter mile back toward the city, then backed off into the dead-end dirt road Murch had been astonished to find last week.

"Now there's nothing to do but wait," Kelp said.

"I'll lay five to two," Dortmunder said, "some farmer comes along in a pickup truck, drives in, wants to know what we're doing here, and pulls out a shotgun."

"You're on," Kelp said.

Four miles away, the silver-gray Cadillac limousine took the curving ramp down from Interstate 80 to the county road and turned south. The chauffeur, Maurice K. Van Golden, drove at varying speeds above fifty-five, competing with the occasional other car he met. In the backseat, Jimmy Harrington read the "Letter from Washington" in the current New Yorker and wished he had the self-confidence to tell Maurice to quit racing the other drivers. Maurice behaved himself when Jimmy's father was in the car, but when it was just Jimmy back there he obviously thought he could get away with being a cowboy. And the annoying part of it was, he could; Jimmy wouldn't complain to his father, since that would be the act of a baby, but on the other hand he hadn't yet felt quite secure enough to complain to Maurice directly.

Pretty soon I will, Jimmy thought, and read about the administration's hopes for a settlement in the Middle East.

Five minutes later, May and Kelp both simultaneously said, "Here they come."

"I see them," Dortmunder said, and put the Caprice in gear as the Cadillac rocketed by them. The Caprice moved out from the dirt road and accelerated in the Cadillac's wake.

"That's five dollars you owe me," Kelp said.

Dortmunder didn't answer.

Van Gelden, at the wheel of the Cadillac, suddenly slammed on the brakes and swerved all over the road when he saw the sign blocking the road ahead. Jimmy, flung off the seat, came sputtering up, crying, "Maurice! What in the name of God is going on?"

"Goddam denture!" Van Celden cried. He thought the word was spelled that way.