‘No, I don’t, but that’s another matter. The question is, can your Mr Martenson change it for us without anyone asking questions?’
‘He’ll do it for about ten per cent. I’ll want another one for placing the deal.’
‘What will happen to it?’
‘Go back across the Atlantic with all the other dirty little dollars that we collect in – on one of the Queens probably – and get reunited with the US economy back over there. It will cost us another two per cent, but we still get a decent return off it. Nobody loses.’
‘Except the governments.’
‘An’ they’re the biggest thieves of all, so why worry?’
‘As soon as she grabs for the case the hotel will phone the police.’
‘That’s no problem. They’re prob’ly waiting for her old man to get back anyway – so tommorer you get the lady to go down and pay her bill through ’til Sat’day or Sunday, an’ while she’s doing that you nip along to the station and change your train ticket to Friday. Come Friday you go up to their room, pack all the gear she’ll need in one suitcase an’ both go downstairs separately. You leave with her suitcase, she goes to reception and picks up the money-box. Joins you outside where I’ll be waiting for the pair o’ you. I’ll run you to the station and we’ll change your dosh on the way. OK?’
‘What about the police? Will they fall for it?’
‘You’ll be a mile away in one of our cabs before the hotel puts the phone down.’
‘Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before, Harry?’
‘Practice makes perfect, ain’t that what they say? Want another drink?’
I had another question, and put it to him when he came back with the glasses.
‘If I leave on Friday, what do I do about George? He’ll be expecting to meet up with us on Saturday.’
‘Let him find his own way – ’e’s a grown-up, ain’t he?’ Then he said, ‘That bird’s terrible, ain’t she. We should pay ’er to keep her clothes on.’ A weary-looking stripper was working a small stage at the back of the bar, dancing to a Julie London LP played on a Pye Black Box. He must have seen something in my face because he asked, ‘What happened? Someone walk over your grave?’
‘Nope, for a moment I thought I knew her. I was mistaken, that’s all.’
She’d reminded me of someone I’d met in 1947 when she was young and fresh. I hoped life had been kinder to her than the shell of a woman we looked away from.
The music finished, and one of the deadbeats shuffled over to set it going again. The girl didn’t seem to notice. As we walked out there was that characteristic click from the music box, and Julie London began to sing ‘Cry me a River’.
I told Doris a couple of hours before we were due to go.
She asked, ‘Do I get any say in this?’
‘Not until I get us away from here.’
‘What about George?’
‘Someone I know will explain to him. He knows where we’re going, and the money will have disappeared – they’ll have to let him go, because there won’t be any evidence of an offence.’
‘He won’t like it.’
‘Neither do I, but it’s the best I could come up with at short notice.’
She sat on her hotel bed, and gave me a rueful grin.
‘It’s all our own fault, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but there are worse crimes in the book. Don’t worry about it, just pack a case of your warmest clothes.’
‘What about the rest, and George’s things?’
‘He’ll pick them up on Saturday when he gets in, and either come on with them or put them into left luggage.’
‘If the police still want us, won’t they follow George until they find us?’
‘They could, but they probably won’t. My friends think that because it’s a relatively common offence, and the evidence will have disappeared anyway, they won’t pursue it any further. Besides, George will recognize that risk, and take care anyway.’
‘Do your friends know where we’re heading?’
‘No. Just you, me and George.’
‘You’ve thought of everything, honey. You’re quite good at this . . . In fact, you remind me of some of the guys in Vegas.’
She was taking the piss, of course, but she breathed in and out and pointed her guns at me, so I didn’t mind too much.
I had a nervy few minutes sitting in the taxi with Harry and his money man, waiting for Doris to come away from reception. When she finally appeared around the corner she had a big happy smile on her face, and was swinging a small briefcase like a schoolgirl – and as soon as she was inside with us the cab moved off and into the evening traffic. Harry checked the back window from time to time, but always looked back at me with an unworried look on his face. The money man did what money men are best at – he took the briefcase and counted the dosh. The notes riffled through his fingers like sand running through an egg timer. He had a round face and thick glasses.
Harry said, ‘I won’t introduce you, but our friend here works in a bank in the day, and is one of our casino cashiers at night. He doesn’t make mistakes with other people’s money.’
‘Good. How much is there?’ I asked.
The little man had finished, and replied in a curiously deep voice, ‘Twenty thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, in hundreds, fifties, fives, tens and twenties.’ That was twice as much as she’d bloody told me. She didn’t blush.
‘That’s more than I expected,’ Doris told him, and crossed her legs. He went cross-eyed as he tried to prevent his eyes from following her.
‘Don’t worry, madam, I brought enough to cover that.’ He fetched out an old leather messenger bag from under his seat, removed a couple of flat bundles of money from it – which he
