McNally's caper

‘Was he the only one in the store?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know. There was a back room, curtained off. There might have been someone in there. He was the only one I saw.’

Jack Donohue sighed. ‘I don’t like it. He could have smelled something. Decided to tail you. Followed you back to the shopping center. Waited. Then tailed us to the motel and here. It’s possible.’

‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ I said humbly.

‘Not your fault,’ he said shortly. ‘Mine. I should have warned you. I should have had my head on a swivel, watching for a tail.’

‘Jack, you don’t know,” Fleming said in an urgent whisper. ‘It might be entirely innocent. It might be just a coincidence, like I said.’

‘Might, might,’ Donohue repeated. ‘Anything might be.’ He was silent a moment, then: ‘All right, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to signal for the check, pay it, leave a tip. Then we’re all going to get up and move slowly toward the door. Slowly — get it? We’re all talking and laughing. Not a care in the world. Now, the moment we’re outside, Jannie, you and Fleming and me, we hightail it for the car, get in, go screaming out of the lot. Hyme, you fade into the shadows. Dig? Somewhere on the lot or over to one side. Somewhere where you can watch the door. Now if that guy doesn’t follow us right away, then it’s just a crazy coincidence, like Dick says, and no harm done. But if he comes barrel-assing out after us, then you’ve got to take him, Hyme. You understand?’

‘Sure, Jack,’ Gore said. ‘I understand. You want I should step on him?’

I saw Dick Fleming’s face go white, and I clasped my hands to hide the tremble. The day had been fun, a lark. The dinner had been a celebration. Now here was the bleached skull behind the laughing mask.

‘Nooo,’ Donohue said slowly, ‘don’t squash him, Hyme. That would cause too many problems, too much heat. We got enough already. Just cold-cock him. Make it look like your everyday, run-of-the-mill mugging. Turn his pockets inside out. Take his wallet, credit cards, wristwatch. Try to leave him in his own car if you can. People coming by will think it’s a drunk sleeping. If not his car, roll him under any heap. I’ll come back for you in about five minutes. Got all that, Hyme?’

‘Got it, Jack. No sweat.’

‘Good,’ Donohue said. ‘Just remember, I’ll come back for you no matter how it turns out. Everyone knows what to do? Don’t look towards the guy as we leave. We don’t know he exists. Let’s go …’

He called for the bill, paid cash, left a generous tip. We all rose to our feet, laughing and joking. Moved slowly toward the door. Reclaimed our coats from the cloakroom, still chattering and smiling. Went out the door.

The moment it closed behind us, Donohue, Fleming and I walked rapidly to the Ford. Jack unlocked the doors, got behind the wheel. Dick and I piled in. We pulled out of the parking lot with a chirp of tires. Hymie Gore was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared somewhere between the parked cars. We didn’t look back.

‘What time is it?’ Donohue asked harshly.

I was in the back. Fleming was in the passenger seat next to Jack. Dick held his wrist close to the dash.

‘About seventeen to eleven,’ he said, a tremor in his voice.

‘All right,’ Donohue said, ‘keep an eye on your watch. When it’s a quarter to eleven, let me know.’

We drove slowly toward Camden. Dick leaned forward, watching the minute hand move around. No one spoke.

‘A quarter to eleven, Jack, Fleming said finally.

Donohue let traffic go by, then made a screeching U-turn and headed back to Uncle Tom’s Tavern, still driving slowly.

Hymie Gore was waiting for us on the verge of the highway; we didn’t even have to turn into the parking lot. I opened the back door, he climbed in. Jack accelerated, speeding toward the Turnpike.

‘Got his wallet, watch, credit cards,’ Hymie said. ‘Just like you told me, Jack.’

‘Then he came after us?’

‘Oh, sure,’ Gore said. ‘Like a bat out of hell. I took him just as he was getting into his car. He’s in there now. Sleeping.’

‘Nice work, Hyme.’

‘A piece of cake,’ Gore said. ‘Everything’s all right now.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jack Donohue said. Then: ‘We should have killed the cocksucker.’

SKIN OF OUR TEETH

It all turned hard. Up to that moment it had seemed like a game, a gamble. And we had won: The hairbreadth escape from New York, the jaunty selling of the jewelry — all had gone well, with grins and laughter.

Now we sensed the presence of an implacable enemy, everywhere, a nemesis.

‘I get so goddamned sore!’ Jack Donohue burst out. ‘We made the score; why don’t they leave us alone?’

Foolish? Irrational? Of course. But I think that’s the way we all felt. Maybe all criminals feel that way. Our planning and daring and bravery were for naught; we were being condemned and hounded. The cops were unfair, the law was unfair, life was unfair.

We drove south on the Turnpike, keeping to the speed limit. I couldn’t stand the silence.

it wouldn’t have done any good to kill him, Jack,’ I said. ‘He might have already called someone, told them about us.’

‘No,’ Donohue said definitely. ‘If he had done that, there would have been four hammers in that restaurant instead of just him. But he’ll sure as hell gab when he comes to.’

‘The Corporation?’ Dick Fleming asked.

‘Who else? An FBI man he ain’t.’

Silence again while we all thought of what had happened and what it might portend. I had a sudden, depressing vision of a wild flight south, an endless succession of scrubby motels, pickup meals in out-of-the-way diners and second-rate fast-food joints. And all of us, heads on swivels, looking over our shoulders for the pursuers.

. ‘Hyme,’ Jack said, ‘if you were tailing and got the word we had been spotted in Philly, what would you figure to be our next stop?’

‘Baltimore,’ Hymie Gore said promptly. ‘Right, Jack?’

‘Right,’ Donohue said, nodding. ‘I think that’s what they’ll figure. So this’ll be just a short trip; we’ll hole up for the night near Wilmington, get some sleep, drive through to Baltimore around noon. Give us a better chance to look around. And maybe, if they don’t get a sniff of us in Baltimore tonight or tomorrow morning, they’ll follow their noses to Washington.’

‘Jack,’ Dick Fleming said hesitantly, ‘I know it’s a crazy idea, but if they’re on our tail, the Feds and the Corporation, and are figuring our route and stops, wouldn’t it make more sense to double back to New York? They wouldn’t be expecting that.’

‘Never work,’ Donohue replied immediately. ‘Too many eyes in New York, too many big mouths, big ears. Where would we hole up? How would we peddle the rocks for walking-around money? And then what would we do — I mean eventually? How would we get out of the country? No, Miami is our best bet. We’ll get there; don’t chew on it.’

We crossed the Delaware River, came into Farnhurst, just south of Wilmington, and saw signs pointing to Interstate Highway 95. Jack Donohue laughed delightedly, the first time in the past hour.

‘Dear old Route 95,’ he said happily. ‘We can take that mother right into Miami. We’re heading home!’

We came down 95, turned off, and found a suitable motel just east of Elkton, Md. It was called something or other. I didn’t care, and it wasn’t important; it was just a place to sleep. Donohue signed us in for two adjoining doubles. This time, he said, he and I would share one, Fleming and Gore the other. No one objected.

We checked entrances, exits, possible escape routes. We brought in the luggage and guns.

‘Uh,’ Jack said, almost embarrassed, ‘the situation’s changed; I think maybe we should start carrying when