of this kind of caper. He would own his own bungalow, his own car and he planned to grow roses. Now he might very easily get himself killed on this goddam assignment.
He found Mike Colon and Sam Wand waiting for him in the Armoury. Both these patrolmen were young and keen. Colon was big, dark and tough looking with a growing reputation for being smart, and with a number of arrests in his book. Wand was shorter, fair, with steel-grey eyes. He too was keen and ambitious. The kind of punks, O’Connor thought sourly, he would get landed with.
“Okay, fellas,” he said, “get your weapons and let’s go.” He drew an automatic rifle and ammunition from the Sergeant Armourer who grinned unfeelingly at him.
“Watch that big belly of yours, Gutsey,” he said. “You don’t want anyone to make a hole in it. I reckon there’d be enough gas out of that to light the City for a week.”
“Shut your trap!” O’Connor snarled. “All very well for you… you just hand out a gun. I’ve got to use it!”
He stamped out of the Armoury. Collon and Wand exchanged winks. They followed him to the waiting police car and they all piled on. Wand took the wheel.
“North Shore,” O’Connor said, “and snap it up.”
The time was a little after six o’clock when they reached the first row of bungalows that skirted the beach near the Casino. The three officers got out of the car.
“Okay, fellas, start working,” O’Connor said. “You know what to do. Find out who owns the place. If they’ve been there some time, skip the search. If they are renting the place, go over it. I’ll be right here, covering you.”
Wand stared at him.
“Doing what, Sarg?” he asked.
“You deaf? I’m here to cover you,” O’Connor barked. “Get moving!”
The two patrolmen looked at each other in disgust, then set off towards the bungalows. They were both aware of the danger of their assignment, but neither of them hesitated. They never had had any use for Gutsey, and this act of blatant cowardice set their seal of contempt on him.
“Good luck, Mike,” Wand said as he pushed open the wooden gate, leading to the first bungalow. “Watch it.”
“You, too,” Colon said, and moved farther down the lane to the adjacent bungalow.
The search progressed fairly swiftly and unsuccessfully. None of the people renting the bungalows objected to letting the police officers in. They had all heard about the Casino robbery, and were thrilled to be on the fringe of such a daring steal.
Around eight o’clock, the two patrolmen had covered forty of the bungalows, and it was now growing dark. Gutsey O’Connor was sitting in the police car, resting his feet and dozing. He was no longer taking any interest in the search, being convinced it was now just routine and the wanted men weren’t hiding in his district.
But Wand and Callon didn’t relax. They knew that any moment they might turn up these three men and then there would be a battle. Young and as tough as they were, the strain was beginning to tell.
The final bungalow in the long row yielded nothing and they returned to the police car.
“How long do we keep this shindig up?” Wand demanded as O’Connor jerked awake.
“We’d better drive to the South end now,” O’Connor said, trying to sound alert. “The Chief didn’t say anything about knocking off.”
“Sure you wouldn’t like to help out, Sarg?” Wand asked sarcastically. “One more man on the job, and we’d get done that much quicker.”
“I give the orders around here,” O’Connor snapped. “Get in and let’s go.”
They drove farther down the beach road, past a big clump of palm trees until they came within sight of another long row of bungalows.
Without knowing it, they were now within five hundred yards of Maisky’s bungalow. The two patrolmen, their automatic rifles carried at the alert, walked along the sandy road, split up and began rapping on doors again.
At this moment, Mish Collins pushed aside his plate and released a soft belch. That, he told himself, was one of the best meals he had eaten for a long time. Looking across at Lolita who had prepared the meal, there was genuine admiration in his eyes.
“That was swell,” he said. Then to Chandler, “Boy! You certainly can pick them!”
Chandler laid down his knife and fork and grinned.
“She’s something very special.” He patted Lolita’s hand. “That was terrific, baby… and I mean terrific.”
“You men… if a woman can cook, you’re just mush.” Lolita got to her feet. “Sit still. I’ll take care of the dishes,” and rapidly clearing the table, she carried the dishes into the kitchen.
“This is about our one lucky break,” Mish said, lighting a cigarette. He tossed the pack to Chandler. “I really thought she was going to walk out on us.”
Chandler got to his feet and moved over to the open window. It was growing dark now. He could see the moon coming up behind the palm trees, making the sea glitter. He drew the curtains and turned on the light.
“I told you. She and I have an understanding.”
“Do you think we are safe here,” Jess?”
Chandler sat in an easy chair. He let smoke drift down his nostrils.
“Could be. I don’t know. We should work out something, Mish. If the cops did come here, there’s a good hide in the roof. If something started, we could leave Lolita to handle it and you and me get up in the roof.”
“Think her nerve would hold?”
“Sure.”
Mish got to his feet.
“I’m going to grab me some air.”
“Watch it.”
Mish grinned.
“Relax, Jess. I know what I’m doing.”
When he had left the bungalow, Chandler walked into the kitchen where Lolita was finishing the washing up.
“Anything I can do?” he asked.
“It’s done.” She took off her apron and came over to him. She leaned hard against him as he put his arms around her. “Where’s Mish?”
“He’s taking the air.” Chandler’s hands slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. “Let’s go to bed, baby.” He pulled her close to him.
“I was only waiting for you to say that.”
They kissed, then, his arm around her, he led her out of the kitchen, down the passage and into the main bedroom. As he was about to close the door, he heard Mish come in. Mish’s movements were hurried. Chandler stiffened. He raised his hand to Lolita, and then stepped into the passage.
“There’s a police car down the road,” Mish said tensely. “They are checking all the bungalows. They’ll be here in half an hour… automatic weapons.”
Lolita came to the door, zipping up her dress.
“What is it?”
“The cops… they’re checking the bungalows,” Chandler said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Mish pointed to the trap door in the ceiling.
“We’ll get up there.”
“Put the radio on,” Chandler said to Lolita. “When they come…”
She was surprisingly calm: a lot calmer than Mish and Chandler.
“I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll handle it, Jess. Just get up there and leave it to me.”
“This could turn into a jam, baby,” Chandler said. He had a sudden spasm of conscience. He had no right to ask her to do this for him. “Maybe you had better go. You still have time…”
“Get up there and be quiet. I’ll handle it.”
He pulled her against him.
“You won’t regret this. When we do get out of this mess, you and I…”
She smiled up at him.
“I know, Jess.”
