“Yes, I called around three,” he said.
He was telling her there were three people there with him.
“Sorry I missed you. How can I help?”
“We need some cash,” he said.
“How much?” she asked.
To Wiggy, listening on the extension, this all sounded legitimate so far.
“Are you sitting down?” Halloway asked, and smiled.
Wiggy smiled, too.
So did the Mexicans.
Everyone was smiling at Halloway’s witticism.
“That much, huh?” Susan said.
Her name wasn’t Susan, but that’s who Wiggy thought she was. He also thought this was going along splendidly so far. He didn’t have the slightest notion that he and his two pals were being set up.
“Three-million-six,” Halloway said.
“Oh dear,” Susan said.
“Indeed,” Halloway said, and rolled his eyes heavenward.
Wiggy nodded encouragement. You’re doing fine so far, his nod said.
“Where do you want it?” Susan asked.
Wiggy motioned for Halloway to cover the mouthpiece with his hand.
“Tell her you’ll come there for it,” he whispered.
“I’ll come there for it, Sue.”
Warning her again that he had company, three in number, remember? Trouble, Sue. Or Suzie. Big trouble here. Come help us, Suze.
“How soon can you get it together?” he asked.
“How soon will you need it?”
“As soon as possible, Sue.”
“How does one o’clock sound?”
Halloway looked at Wiggy. Wiggy nodded.
“One o’clock sounds fine,” Halloway said.
“Allow yourself a half-hour to get here,” Susan said.
This meant he could expect help at twelve-thirty.
“I’ll have to make three or four calls, Dick.”
She was telling him she’d be sending three or four people.
“And, Dick …?”
“Yes, Sue?”
“They’re doing some work out front, lots of heavy machinery all over the place. Come in the back way, will you?”
“See you in a bit,” he said.
She had told him they’d be heavily armed. She had told him they’d come up the emergency staircase at the rear of the Headley Building. She had so much as told him that Walter Wiggins and his Mexican associates were already as good as dead.
The hands on the wall clock now read a quarter past ten.
“Charmaine?” Wiggy said. “Why don’t you make us all some coffee?”
WILL STRUTHERS didn’t call the bank until ten-twenty that morning. As a former bank employee himself, he knew there was always an early-morning rush of customers, and he suspected Antonia Belandres would have been particularly busy until now, it being the start of the big New Year’s Eve weekend and all.
“Miss Belandres,” she said.
The “Miss” pleased Will. It meant a) she was single, and b) she wasn’t one of these damn feminists who called themselves “Ms.” and aspired to pee in men’s rooms.
“Hello, Miss Belandres,” he said, “this is Will Struthers.”
“Lieutenant Struthers!” she said, sounding enormously surprised. “Howare you?”
“Fine, thank you,” Will said, not bothering to correct her. “And you?”
“Busy, busy, busy,” she said. “We close at noon today, and it’s been bedlam.”
“I know just how it is,” Will said.
