to those who requested it. At precisely 8:00, we would all depart. Angela would be directly behind me, knife ready. Clement would be on Fleming’s heels, prodding him along with my spiffy Beretta. We would take the elevator down to the basement and exit through the garage.
‘Now here’s how the cars will work,’ Donohue explained. ‘Jannie, Angela, me, Hymie, and the Ghost go in Jannie’s rented Ford. Fleming, Clement, and Smiley go in Fleming’s VW.’
‘My car?’ Dick said, astonished. ‘It’s parked five blocks away.’
‘The hell it is.’ Black Jack grinned. ‘It’s right around the corner. Jannie isn’t the only one we tailed, you know. We know where you live, where you work, where you stash your Bug.’
Dick sighed, ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me how you got in with a coat hanger and started it. You jumped it — right?’
‘
The Ghost twitched in appreciation.
‘All right,’ Jack went on. ‘Now the eight of us are in two cars. Five in the Ford, three in the VW. Over we go to the garage on West 47th Street, where we’ve parked the stolen Chevy. All our gear is in the garage. The men put on the Bonomo coveralls there. Oh, another detail you might be interested in, Jannie. As a writer. That’s where we also put on gloves. Thin cotton gloves. Black. The kind undertakers use.’
This amused everyone. Don’t ask me why.
Then the five passengers in my rented Ford would transfer to the stolen Chevy and drive over to Madison Avenue for the rendevous with the Bonomo cleaning van in front of the antique shop. The three passengers in Dick’s VW would also drive over. Black Jack paused and looked at me.
‘That seemed to bother you, Jannie,’ he said with real enjoyment. ‘I wasn’t sure I could con you about that. I mean, how the heavies were going to get over to Madison Avenue in time for the hijack of the truck. Now if they leave the VW in the garage, you want to guess how they’ll do it?’
I shrugged. ‘Another stolen car, 1 suppose.’
‘Right,’ Donohue said, nodding approvingly. ‘Another hot car. And guess what it is? A beautful bottle-green Jaguar XKE. Ain’t dot nize?’
‘You bastard!’
‘I had your keys,’ he said innocently. ‘Seemed a shame not to use them.’
The two cars would then proceed to Madison Avenue, staying close together. We would not stop, but would circle the block until we saw the Bonomo van doubleparked in front of the antique shop. Then the Chevy would pull up in front of it, the XKE behind it, boxing him in. The cover-ailed men would get into the back of the van, pulling on their stocking masks when they were inside. Including poor Dick Fleming, prodded along at gunpoint.
But no mask for Donohue. As he said, he’d go naked. Except for a paste-on moustache and a Band-Aid taped across his forehead.
‘Sure they’re phony,’ he admitted cheerfully. ‘But they’re what witnesses will remember.’
When the Bonomo cleaning crew came out of the antique shop and opened the back doors, they’d be yanked into the van at the muzzle of Smiley’s cannon. The helper would be blindfolded, trussed, gagged, pushed to the floor of the van. The driver and Donohue would get into the cab. Black Jack armed, of course.
‘It’ll never work,’ I told him. ‘Someone on the street will see. The sidewalks will be crowded.’
‘It’ll go like silk,’ he assured me. ‘The boys will be inside the van with their shooters. I won’t pop out of the Chevy until the last minute, until the real Bonomo guys are at the rear doors of the van. Get it? With me behind them, nudging their asses, and the boys inside pulling them in, what are they going to do — except maybe faint? It’ll work; you’ll see.’
Once the truck was taken, we’d start off for Brandenberg amp; Sons on East 55th Street. Right about then, Donohue’s friend would be making the diversionary calls to the New York cops and newspapers, reporting bombs planted in Rockefeller Center.
The van would pull up in front of Brandenberg’s, doubleparking. The driver and Donohue would get out, taking some cleaning gear from the truck to make it look legit. The Chevy, me driving, Angela and knife alongside, would pull up behind the truck.
Once the door was opened, the rest of the gang (and Dick Fleming) would pile out of the van and into the store. This time the famous rubber doorstopper, inspired by the Devolte Bros, holdup in San Francisco, would be used for a different purpose; it would be wedged between door and jamb so the door couldn’t be electrically locked in case the chair rail alarm was pressed.
‘A risk,’ Donohue said. ‘I admit it. I would prefer to keep that door locked while we’re inside, gathering the goodies. But I can’t take the chance of it being jammed electrically. Then we’d really be in the stew. So we’ll keep it wedged open just an inch or so.’
When the robbery was completed, they’d come out with their full pillowcases, leaving all the employees of Brandenberg amp; Sons, plus the Bonomo driver, gagged and tied on the floor. After everyone was out, Donohue would use the rubber stopper to wedge the door tightly closed, just for an added safety factor in case someone got loose in time to start pursuit.
When they came out, Donohue, the Holy Ghost, and Hymie Gore would race to the stolen Chevy with their share of the loot. I’d push over (closer to Angela’s knife!), and Donohue would get behind the wheel. Smiley, Clement, and Dick Fleming would take their part of the Brandenberg treasure into the van.
We’d all meet at the West 47th Street garage and transfer to my rented Ford and Fleming’s VW.
‘And then we all waltz up to your room at the Hotel Harding?’ Dick asked. ‘And divvy up?’
‘Oh no,’ Donohue said, flashing his eighteen-carat grin. ‘I never planned a stupid move like that. We’ve got a better hidey-hole. You’ll find out when the time comes.’
‘And what about my XKE?’ I demanded. ‘You’re going to leave it parked in front of that antique shop on Madison Avenue? It’ll take the cops about ten minutes to find out where the Bonomo truck was hijacked, to find the doubleparked Jaguar, and trace it back to me.’
Smiley spoke for the first time.
‘Yeah,’ he rasped, showing his teeth. ‘Ain’t that a shame?’
There didn’t seem much more to say. I moved closer on the sofa to Dick Fleming. Donohue made no objection. Gore, the Ghost, and Clement stretched out their legs, closed their eyes, determined to sleep. Smiley, Angela, and Black Jack remained awake and alert. Smiley was demolishing what was left in the bottle of Courvoisier, but it didn’t seem to affect him. He just kept smiling. The least he could have done, drinking
‘“Oh what a tangled web we weave …,”’ Dick said wryly.
I nodded.
‘Jannie, why in God’s name did you put it all down on paper?’
‘I thought it would make a good novel,’ I said miserably.
‘Lousy ending,’ he growled. ‘See any way out?’
‘Possibly,’ I said. ‘The weak part is-’
Jack Donohue had been watching us whispering, making no effort to separate us. But now he interrupted.
‘Jannie,’ he said, ‘you didn’t know I was a mindreader, did you?’
I looked at him.
‘I know what you’re thinking right now,’ he said. ‘Looking for a way out. A kid like you, with the imagination you got, it figures. So you see right away where your best chance is. After that Bonomo truck is hijacked in front of the antique store. From then until the finish of the heist, you’re alone in the Chevy with Angela. Just the two of you. That’s when you figure you’ll make your move. Right? Scream or try to jump Angela. Jannie, don’t try it. I beg you, don’t try it. She’ll cut you to ribbons. Angela?’
He looked at the small, dark, tight woman, swathed in yards and yards of knitted wool. She looked at me, eyes black and tiny as raisins.
‘I keel you,’ she said. Her voice was a whisper.
‘Listen to her, Jannie,’ Donohue urged. ‘She ain’t kidding. It wouldn’t be the first time, believe me. Besides, what if you did bust this caper wide open — what good would it do? I’m taking all your writing along with me. You scream down the cops and there’s the evidence you planned the whole thing. You and Fleming. Think you can talk
