a horizon, a plain to cross, a river to vault, a mountain to climb. The engine had a rocket ship's sensible sleekness, and a small cab twenty feet off terra firma. It issued noises and mysterious grumblings and was attended by a fleet of worshipful keepers. Conductors and other factotums prowled the platform, examining documents, controlling the flow into and off the thing. The crowds rushed by.
Amid them, but indifferent, and smoking gigantic cigars, the two lords stood in their magnificent clothes, waiting imperially. It would take time for the boys to get the luggage into the compartment and now Owney and Ben were contemplating history.
'This is where that train was jacked, isn't it?' asked Ben.
'It is indeed, old man.'
'Nineteen forty-one?'
'Nineteen forty.'
'What was the take?'
'I believe over four hundred thousand in cash. The Alcoa payroll for the Hattie Fletcher bauxite pit. In Bauxite.'
'In Bauxite?'
'Yes, old man. They named the town after its only product, which is bauxite. The bauxite of Bauxite rules the world, that is, when applied to aluminum by some alchemical process I couldn't possibly understand, and then built into lightweight ships, planes and guns. We won the war with aluminum. The miracle metal. The metal of the future.'
'Damn, sure is a lot of the future here in Hot Springs! It was at this station?'
'Not in the station, per se. It was the mail car, and the train was over in the freight docks. You can't see it from here, but this is really a yard. There are several other tracks, controlled by the tower, and warehouses on the other side. You'll see when you get aboard.'
'The crew? They've never been caught?'
'Never. They must have been out-of-towners. No local thief could operate at that level of perfection.'
'I heard they were Detroit boys, usually work for the Purples. Some done some time with Johnny D back in the wild times. Good people with guns. I heard Johnny Spanish himself.'
'I thought he was dead.'
'Nobody will ever kill Johnny Spanish. He's the best gun guy in America.'
'Well, if you say so. I thought I was the best gun guy in America. I could tell you some fabulous adventures I had back in New York before the Great War!'
Both men laughed. Ben took a mighty suck on his cigar, a very fine Havana, and looked around in the late afternoon sunlight. It suddenly occurred to him: where was Virginia?
'Where's Virginia?' he asked, instantly coming alert from his torpor.
'Why, she was here a second ago,' said Owney.
'She was pesky this morning. She can get real pesky sometimes,' he said, soothing his panic as he eyed the crowd. At last he saw her. She had wandered down the platform to get a cigarette while the boys loaded the bags. But?who was she talking to? He could make out a figure, someone strange, someone he didn't know, but hard to see through the crowds. But then the crowds parted magically, and he saw her companion. A tall, tough-looking gent in a blue suit with a fedora pulled low over his eyes and the look of command and experience to him. Ben smelled cop, and a split second later that little flare of rage fired off in his mind.
'Goddamn her!' he exploded, his face white with fury, his temples pulsating, and he began to stride manfully toward his woman.
They spent the morning examining gambling joints from the hundreds in the town, from the smallest, dingiest sports books in the Negro areas out Malvern to some of the more prosaic slot halls on the west side out Ouachita to the elaborate Taj Mahals of Central Avenue. Any one of them could be the Central Book, but how would they know? None of the eight or so they eyeballed, entered, dropped a few bucks' worth of quarters into, seemed remarkable in any way. Then they stopped at a Greek's and had a couple of hamburgers and coffee.
'Is this what cops do?' asked Earl. 'They just drive around and look at stuff?'
'Pretty much,' said D. A., taking a bite. 'But when the shit happens, it happens fast. Just like in the war.'
'Okay, Mr. Parker. I believe you.'
'Earl, before this is all over, you'll look back on these early days with some nostalgia. This is about as good as it gets.'
Earl nodded, and went back to his burger.
Finally, D. A. went off, dropped a nickel and made a call. He came back with a smile on his wrinkled, tanned prime of a face.
'This snitch I got at the Arlington, one of the bellboys, he says Bugsy and the babe are moving out today and the boys are going upstairs to get their luggage and load it up for them. Let's go to the hotel and see if we can't pick 'em up.'
Earl threw down his cup of coffee, left some change at the counter and the two of them went out and got in the Ford.
When they got to the Arlington and parked above it on Central, with the grand entrance in easy view, it didn't take long to pick up the caravan. The limo, which looked like it was thirty feet long, led the way out of the hotel's grand entrance. It was followed by a pickup, full of luggage and black men. And behind that, a third car, a Dodge, where six of Owney's minor gunmen and gofers?they were all from a hillbilly family called Grumley?sat dully, pretending to provide security.
From a few car lengths back, Earl and D. A. followed, taking it nice and easy, and kept contact as the folks in the big limo talked on and on. Earl could see that Bugsy and Owney did most of the chatting. The woman just looked out the window, her features frozen in place. The cavalcade made its way through the heavy traffic up Central, and a traffic cop overrode the light to let it pass, while D. A. and Earl cooled their heels behind the red. By the time they got to the station, the black men had the luggage off the truck and loaded onto a couple of hand carts and were hauling it toward the big yellow train.
'Is that the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe?' asked Earl, as D. A. pulled into a space on Market Street.
'No, Earl, that is not. That is the Missouri-Pacific 4:15 for St. Louis, the first step on the trip back to L. A. Now let's get out and mosey over there and see what there is to see. Probably nothing, but for now I am sick of casing books in Niggertown.'
'I roger that,' said Earl.
The two split up, and drifted through the gathering crowd as the time of departure approached. Earl lit a cigarette, found a pillar to lean against far down the platform and commenced to smoke and watch. In time, he spotted the two gangsters talking animatedly near the station house, each smoking a gigantic cigar. The two fellows seemed to be having a good enough time. Other than that, nothing much was happening, though more and more people were boarding the train and the conductors seemed a little more frenzied. He glanced at his Hamilton, saw that it was just about 4:00 P. M. The all-aboard would come very soon. His leg hurt a little, as did his left wrist. He flexed his left hand, opening and shutting it, and shifted his weight, trying to keep his mind off of it. He wasn't used to wearing a tie all day, either, and it was getting on his nerves, but he wasn't about to loosen his, even in this heat, until D. A. did the same. He was thinking about a nice hot shower back in his cabin at the Best Tourist Court.
Suddenly someone stood before him, and he cursed himself for his lack of awareness. It was the woman. Her hair was red, and pinned up under a yellow beret. She stood on white, strapped heels in a yellow traveling suit cut right at the knee that showed off more leg than was healthy for anybody. She was staring at him intently, her eyes dark.
'Say, handsome,' she said, 'did you use your last match to light that butt or would you have one or two others left in the box?'
Nothing shy about this one. And, she smelled great too. Her accent was sugar-dipped, like a fritter hot on a cool Southern morning, and he placed it as either from Georgia or Alabama.
'I might have another one here, ma'am,' he said. 'Let me just dig through my gear and see.'
He stood, pulled the matchbox out from his inside pocket. He deftly opened it, took out a match, and struck
