The World in My Pocket

Morgan had brought the Buick, towing tackle now in position, to Kitson’s place. Gypo had followed him in the Lincoln and he had become sentimental as he watched Kitson and Ginny drive away.

‘They look made for each other, don’t they?’ he said to Morgan as he stared after the swiftly moving Buick. ‘She’s not as hard as she makes out. A girl with a body like that is made for love. They look like a honeymoon couple. They could have beautiful children.’

‘Stop napping with your mouth!’ Morgan said. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re talking like an old woman!’

Gypo spread his hands and lifted his shoulders.

‘Okay, so I flap with my mouth. So I shut up, but without a little love in this world, where is the happiness?’

‘Come on. We’ve got work to do. Take me over to Ed’s place,’ Morgan said, scowling.

This sort of sloppy talk was bad, he thought. They had a dangerous job ahead of them. This was no time for sentiment.

Bleck had a two-room apartment in a brown stone building that overlooked the river.

Morgan took the elevator to the fourth floor, walked along the passage and dug his thumb into Bleck’s bell push.

There was a delay, then Bleck opened the door.

He was wearing a pair of black pyjamas with white piping and his initials in white on the pocket. His hair was tousled and his eyes heavy and a little bleary.

‘For the love of Mike!’ he said, staring at Morgan. ‘What’s the time then?’

Morgan moved forward and rode Bleck back into the small sitting room, comfortably furnished, but untidy, with a number of empty gin and whisky bottles lined up on the window seat. There was a stale smell of cigarette smoke and perfume that made Morgan wrinkle his nose.

‘It smells like a cat house in here,’ he said. ‘Can’t you open a window?’

‘Why, sure.’ Bleck went to the window and threw it open. He looked at the clock on the overmantel and saw it was twenty minutes after eleven. ‘You’re early, aren’t you? Kitson gone?’

‘They’ve gone,’ Morgan said. He looked across the room to the bedroom door. ‘You got someone in there?’

Bleck grinned sheepishly.

‘She’s asleep. You don’t have to worry about her.’

Morgan reached forward and hooked his finger into Bleck’s pyjama pocket, pulling him close to him.

‘Listen, Ed, this is the big one. Your showing last night wasn’t so hot. You’ll have to do a damn sight better than that or you’re not going to be much help. Until we’ve done this job, cut out the women and the booze. You look like something a cat has sicked up.’

Bleck jerked away, his face tightening.

‘You don’t talk that way to me, Frank.’

‘I do, pal. If you want it the hard way, say so. I can handle you any time and don’t forget it. You do what I say or you’re out of this job.’

The expression in the flat, black eyes chilled Bleck.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ll watch it.’

‘You’d better watch it,’ Morgan said.

Bleck moved away.

‘Anything in the papers about last night?’

‘The usual junk. Everyone was so scared they couldn’t give the cops any kind of description. I guess we’re going to get away with that one. I want you to get down to Gypo’s place right away. He is getting the long bolts for the steel work now, but he’ll need help with the job. Get down there, will you?’

‘Okay,’ Bleck said grudgingly. He didn’t feel like working this morning.

‘And snap it up!’ Morgan barked. ‘I’m going over to Dukas to get an automatic rifle. Ernie has one and he’s willing to sell it.’

‘Sure,’ Bleck said. ‘I’ll get down there right away.’

When Morgan had gone, Bleck cursed under his breath and walked into the bedroom, crossing the half-dark room and pulling up the blind, letting a stream of strong sunlight fall directly across the face of the girl, lying in his bed.

‘For heaven’s sake, Eddy,’ the girl protested, sitting up and blinking at him. She was dark, her black hair cut across her forehead in a fringe. Her eyes were big and blue and her features were small. She had on a pair of yellow pyjamas that set off her well-made body.

‘On your way, baby,’ Bleck said as he struggled into his shirt. ‘I’ve got business. Come on! Make the legs walk!’

‘But, Ed. I’m dead beat. If you have to go out, I can stay, can’t I?’

‘No! I’m not leaving you here on your own. Come on! Get moving!’

The girl - her name was Glorie Dawson - groaned, threw off the sheet and staggered out of bed. She stretched her arms, yawned and walked unsteadily into the bathroom.

‘But what’s the panic, honey?’ she asked, running her fingers through her dark hair. ‘Who was your boyfriend?’

Bleck began to mow his beard with an electric razor.

‘Come on! Dress the body and beat it!’ he said. ‘I’m in a hurry.’

She stripped off her pyjamas and got under the shower.

‘Sometimes I think I must have a hole in my head,’ she said, raising her voice above the noise of the running water. ‘It’s always the same. It starts right: soft music, soft lights and soft words, then all of a sudden it’s: dress the body and beat it. What a way to talk to a girl! My dream man! My Prince Charming!’

‘Cut it out and snap it up!’ Bleck said irritably.