McNally's caper

times.

So there we were, rolling south through New Jersey at about 2:00 A.M. Dick’s suitcases and carryalls, stuffed with the Brandenberg loot, were in the trunk. Jack estimated the total take at close to three million, and I didn’t doubt it. It gave me a wry satisfaction.

In the passenger compartment, stuffed under the seats, was the arsenal we had accumulated: my gun, Jack’s gun, Hymie Gore’s gun, Smiley’s gun, Clement’s gun, and the three guns taken from the Brandenberg clerks.

‘We could invade Bulgaria,’ Jack Donohue said.

The armament was stowed away, hidden, because Black Jack didn’t want any of us personally armed during our flight.

‘Suppose we get pulled over by some hotshot trooper,’ he explained. ‘Chances are he’s not going to pat us down. But he might spot a bulge. He might just feel something is wrong and give us a quick frisk. But he’s not going to climb into the car for a search by himself. So he writes us a ticket and takes off. You’ve got to figure the percentages. When we hole up in a motel to sleep, we’ll go in heeled. But on the road, we’re solid citizens.’

Following his instructions, I kept to the speed limit and had the frustration of watching cars and trucks go whizzing by. But it didn’t seem to bother Donohue. He just bent over his map, tracing routes with his forefinger.

‘Here’s the problem,’ he said musingly, almost to himself. ‘By tomorrow or the next day the cops and the Corporation will have a handle on me, through Clement. They’ll ask around and discover I work out of Miami. The New York cops will drop out and the Feds will take over. They’ll cover all the turnpikes, national highways, and so forth, figuring I’ll be trying to make time.’

‘How about airlines?’ I asked. ‘Railroads? Bus lines?’

‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘They were covered an hour after we hit. No, they’ll figure we’re heading south by car. So our best bet is to get off the turnpikes whenever we can and use secondary roads. Also, we’ve got to do that. We can’t go around Philadelphia and Baltimore, for example. We’ve got to go into town.’

‘Money,’I said.

He reached out to pat my knee.

‘Brainy lady,’ he said. ‘Unless you want us to use those credit cards of yours — which would be like leaving arrows pointing. “They went thataway.” So we’ll have to go into the cities along the route. Hock or sell enough of the ice to keep us green. Take what we can get. Not carry so much on us that if we’re stopped and turned out, the cops are going to get suspicious. But just enough in our pockets so we can pass as vacationing New Yorkers heading south for the season. We can stash extra cash under the seats.’

‘What if they search the car?’ I said.

‘Oh shit,’ he said, if they turn out the car, they’ll find all those irons and the rocks, so what’s the diff? I’m just saying what we should carry on us. Let’s stick to the Turnpike for another hour or so. Then we’ll cut over to Camden and Philadelphia. Hole up and get some sleep. Unload some of the stones and buy the stuff we’ll need. Weil travel again tomorrow night.’

‘Drive only at night?’ I asked him.

‘Morning, day, night,’ he said, shrugging. ‘We’ll take it as it comes. The important thing is to avoid a pattern so they can’t get ahead of us. One day we’ll pour on the miles during daylight, the next day a short trip at night. We don’t want to give them any tips.’

‘You’re sure they’ll be coming after us?’ I asked.

‘Oh, they’re coming,’ he said grimly. ‘The Feds and the Corporation. They’re coming after us. You can take that to the bank.’

We drove awhile in silence, and then I asked a question that was bothering me:

‘Jack, if they get onto you, and learn your home base is Miami, then why are we heading there?’

‘Where should we go?’

‘The Midwest,’ I suggested. ‘Chicago. Or LA. Anyplace they won’t suspect.’

‘No good,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Jannie, the Feds are an army. They’ll alert all their field offices. And the Corporation is even worse. They’ll put out the word, with maybe a nice prize offered for tips, and they’re everywhere. I mean, I won’t even be able to get a shoeshine without wondering if the kid’s made me. So if every direction is equally dangerous, it makes sense to head for a place I know. Where I can find people I trust. Besides, did you ever wonder just what the hell we’re going to do with all these big hunks in the trunk? The Brandenberg stuff, and the Devolte loot, and all that?’

‘I wondered,’ I admitted. ‘The insurance company is out, and from what you said, no fence will touch us.’ ‘Not in this country they won’t,’ he agreed. ‘That’s the other reason we’re heading for Miami. With enough of the loot, we can charter a plane to get us out of the US and A. To one of the islands or someplace in Central America. Or South America. Like that. We’ll probably have to take ten percent, but down there we can live high off the hog on that ten. And no questions asked if you grease the right palms.’

‘Why not New England?’ I persisted. ‘Boston? Your home? Surely there are people up there you can trust?’

‘Boston?’ he said. ‘My home?’ He snorted with laughter. ‘Holy Jesus, you didn’t fall for that fine old family in Boston bullshit, did you, babe? It was all smoke. I’m a cracker. I was born on a farm outside of Albany, Georgia.’

I sighed. ‘Now I don’t know what to believe,’ I told him.

‘Not what anyone tells you,’ he said. ‘Never believe that. Just believe in what they do. Actions speak louder than words.’

‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘The platitudes! You’d make a lousy writer.’

‘Sure I would,’ he said equably. ‘But I’m a great crook. I’m going to catch a few winks. Wake me up when we get to the Philly turnoff.’

In a few minutes I was the only one awake in the car. I had my hands in the 10-2 position on the wheel. I was leaning forward slightly, peering out the windshield. Not the most comfortable driving position in the world (it gets you in the small of the back), but we were running into patchy fog. It was almost an icy mist, enough to make outside lights glimmer but not heavy enough to switch on the wipers.

Like most New Yorkers I can handle midtown Manhattan traffic without a shiver. But get me out on a clear raceway like a turnpike, and I get the fantods. I mean, who drives to Miami? I even plane to the Cape and Montauk.

But there I was, Bea Flanders, gunmoll, at the wheel of a getaway car carrying three villains, eight assorted cannons, and about three mil in stolen gems. I’d love to use it in a book, but who’d believe it?

And guess what I was brooding about. My nefarious career? The trail of corpses we had left behind us? The dangers ahead? Nope. I was wondering about what would happen when we did find a motel that raw night. Specifically, what would the sleeping arrangements be? We obviously couldn’t ask casually for a room for four adults.

That meant two doubles — and who would bunk with whom? Did Jack Donohue trust us enough to allow Dick and me to share sleeping quarters? Or would he claim droit du seigneur? An interesting problem. It occupied me until I saw the warning signs for the Camden-Philadelphia turnoff and nudged Jack awake with my elbow.

We made the turn and started looking. Just Donohue and I. The two hulks in the back seat were still out, Hymie Gore snoring gently, an occasional soft moan coming from Dick.

We passed up at least a half-dozen hotels and motels, including a Holiday Inn and a Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge. Then Jack found what he was looking for. It was called Flo-Mar’s, from which I deduced the owners were Florence and Martin. Or maybe it just meant the toilets worked but the the bowls were stained.

An old-fashioned place: a one-story, U-shaped chain of contiguous units. The big advantage for us was that you checked in at the office, then drove around the U and parked right outside your room. Three steps and you were inside. No parking lot, no lobby, no bellhops.

Donohue said, ‘Leave the motor running,’ and went into the lighted office that had a big VAC-NCY sign flashing on the roof. He was out in five minutes and climbed in beside me.