The World in My Pocket

Some dish, Bleck thought, eyeing her as she paused at the door that gave on to the steep staircase that led to the room Strieger rented to those who wanted some privacy.

Ginny was wearing a pair of black slacks, tight across her seat, and a bottle-green shirt, open at the neck.

But she’s a toughie, Bleck thought, finishing his whisky. Where does she come from? She could be fun. Maybe I’ll soften her up a little. After the job, we might go places together for a week or so. She’s got spirit, and with a body like that.

He got to his feet and crossed the room and followed the girl up the stairs. He overtook her as she reached the landing.

‘Hi, Ginny,’ he said. ‘We’re the first two. Those pants certainly suit your geography.’

She turned and looked at him. Her sea-green eyes were disconcertingly bleak.

‘Think so?’ she said, then she opened the door and entered the room, flicking on the light as she did so. She went over to the table and sat down. Opening her bag, she took out a comb and a mirror and began to tidy her copper-coloured hair.

Bleck pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. He stared admiringly at her, watching the way her breasts lifted under the soft material of her shirt as she raised her arms.

‘Well, if s fixed for tonight,’ he said. ‘Scared?’

She put the comb and mirror away and took out a pack of cigarettes.

‘Scared? What’s there to be scared about?’ she asked, indifferently.

‘You’re pretty cool,’ Bleck said, staring at her. ‘I don’t believe you are scared.’

He reached across the table, offering the flame of his cigarette lighter.

For a long moment she studied the flame before leaning forward to dip the end of her cigarette into it. Her full, red lips curved into a smile that came and went so quickly Bleck wasn’t sure if she had smiled.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked, his voice sharpening.

Again her eyes went to the flame of the lighter and he looked at it too. He saw it was far from steady, and he realized his hand was shaking. He snapped out the flame and sat back, forcing a grin.

‘You’re right. I’m scared, and I’ll tell you why.’ He folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. ‘I’m scared we’ll foul up this job tonight and sour the big one. I don’t like this job. I tried to talk Frank out of it. It would be safer and easier to stickup that service station at Dukas, but he won’t have it. With this cafe job, someone might turn brave. If that happens you have a shooting on your hands. If someone gets shot tonight, the heat’ll be on so bad the big one could come unstuck.’

She let smoke drift down her nostrils as she stared at him.

‘Then we must take care no one does turn brave.’

‘Easier said than done.’

She lifted her eyebrows.

‘Is it? If you show a vicious dog you’re not scared of it, it’ll behave. It’s the same with brave people.’

Bleck frowned.

‘I can’t make you out. Have you worked for a mob before?’

Her eyes became cloudy.

‘Then don’t make me out,’ she said curtly.

Bleck shrugged.

‘Okay, if you want to play it mysterious, go ahead. But remember this: you have the toughest end of the job tonight. You have to collect the wallets. Some guy might make a grab at you. So watch it.’

Because he was so uneasy about the job himself, he hoped she too would become uneasy, but there was no change in her expression as she said, ‘No one will make a grab at me.’

The door opened and Kitson and Gypo came in.

Kitson paused abruptly when he saw Ginny and Bleck alone together and his face flushed, his eyes becoming angry.

‘Here comes the bridegroom,’ Bleck said, and he began to sing Mendelssohn’s Wedding March in a raucous voice.

Gypo chuckled, his small black eyes dancing with merriment.

He thought the joke harmless and a good one.

Kitson turned white.

‘Shut up!’ His voice shook. ‘Cut it out!’

Bleck stopped singing and leaned back in his chair, a jeering grin on his face.

‘So what? You and she? He waved towards Ginny who sat motionless, her eyes on Kitson. ‘You two are the newlyweds, aren’t you? Frank said you and she were renting the caravan for your honeymoon.’

‘I said cut it out!’ Kitson said.

‘What’s biting you, stupe? Don’t you want to have a honeymoon with her?’ Bleck said. ‘You have the soft end of this job. What could be nicer than to have a baby like her all alone in a caravan: that is if you know what to do when you’ve got her alone.’

Kitson took two quick steps that brought him to the table. His fist flashed up and slammed against Bleck’s jaw. Bleck went over backwards, taking the chair with him and landed on the floor with a crash that shook the room. He sprawled there, staring up at Kitson, his eyes dazed.

‘Get up, you louse!’ Kitson said, ‘and I’ll shove your teeth through the back of your head!’

‘Hey, kid!’ Gypo cried, horrified.

He grabbed hold of Kitson’s arm, but Kitson gave him a shove that sent him reeling across the room.

Bleck shook his head. His eyes became full of hate as he stared up at Kitson.

‘I’ve always wanted to take you, you punch-drunk bum,’ he said. ‘Now I’ll show you what fighting really means.’