“How long will it take?” asked Joe, smiling.
“Shut up and listen,” said Rico.
“All right, all right,” said Vettori, patting them both, “no bad blood. Now: ever hear of the Casa Alvarado?”
“Sure,” said Joe, “it’s an up and up place. One of Francis Wood’s joints. I nearly got an engagement there once.”
Rico spread out his hands.
“See? They know him. He won’t do.”
“No, they never seen me. It was all done through an agent.”
“All right,” said Vettori, “that’s the place.”
Joe looked startled. Rico smiled and taking off his hat began to comb his hair with a little ivory pocket comb.
“It’d be tough,” said Joe, “what’s in it?”
“Plenty,” said Vettori. “They only bank once or twice a week. They’re careless, get that; because they’ve never been tapped. It’s easy.”
Joe took out a gold cigarette case which he handled with ostentation.
“Well? I’m listening.”
Vettori refused a cigarette and pulled out a stogie. Downstairs a jazz band began to play and a saxophone sent vibrations along the floor.
“Nine o’clock,” said Otero.
Vettori lit his stogie.
“They got a safe,” he said, “that a baby could crack. Too easy to talk about. But that’s on the side. What we’re after is the cashier. The place is lousy with jack. I got the lowdown from Scabby. Well, what do you say, Joe?”
“Yeah,” Rico cut in, “take it or leave it. We ain’t begging you.” Vettori’s face hardened but he said nothing.
“If you say it’s good,” said Joe, “it’s good with me.”
“All right, all right,” said Vettori. “Now, you Tony; we want a big car. Get that. A big, fast car. Get one when I tell you. Steve’s got the plates all ready. Yeah?”
“I’m on, Sam.”
Tony pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a flourish, but his hands shook a little.
“Rico and Otero,” said Vettori, looking at each in turn, “will handle the rods. Yeah?”
Rico said nothing. But Otero smiled, showing his stained teeth, and said:
“That’s us, eh, Rico?”
“Well,” Vettori went on. “I guess we got that over. Now, Joe, I want you on the inside. Dress yourself up like you are, see, and fix it so you’ll get there at midnight. All the whistles’ll be tooting and everybody’ll be drunk and won’t know nothing. See? Now you get there at midnight and go to the cigar counter for change. At twelve-five the fun’ll begin. We’ll set our watches by telephone, because I don’t want you here that night. All right. Rico and Otero come in quick, maybe Tony, too, if you can get a good safe place to park. That’s up to Rico. He’s bossing the job.”
Rico looked at Joe.
“Now, they’ll stick you up if everything’s OK. If not, give them the high sign and they’ll beat it. We ain’t taking no chances, because one night don’t make much difference, only New Year’s Eve’s a good night, see? All right. You play like you don’t know them, got it? But while they’re working, you got your eyes open, see? And if something happens, you got a rod, but don’t use it. We got to watch that.”
Vettori shifted his stogie and shook his finger sideways at Rico.
“That’s your trouble, Rico. The Big Boy can’t fix murder. He can fix anything but murder. Get that. You’re too quick with the lead. If that guy over at the pool room’d died we wouldn’t none of us be sitting here right now. …”
Otero broke in vehemently, surprising them.
“But he had to! He had to! Rico does what is right.”
“All right,” said Vettori, “but take it easy. Now, Joe, you got your hands up, but you watch. If nothing happens nobody knows the difference. But if something does happen, you pull the rod and help the boys get out. All right. Here’s the dope. Get what’s in the cash register first. Get that because that’s easy. If things go right, tackle the safe; it’ll probably be open. Another thing: no frisking in the lobby. That’s too dangerous and takes too long. Let the yaps keep their money. All right.”
Vettori took a map from his pocket and spread it out on the table. The men crowded round him.
“You go straight in,” said Vettori, marking the route with a pencil, “on the right is the checkroom; watch the girls behind the counter, Joe. On the left is the cigar counter and the cashier’s desk. At the end of the lobby is a big door; the real joint’s beyond that. If things go right, nobody in the place’ll know it’s been stuck up, except maybe some yaps in the lobby. Get the idea? With all them horns tooting and all that damn noise, see? All right. On the right of the lobby is a door and that goes into the manager’s office. The box is in there. The manager’s a goddamn bohunk and there ain’t an ounce of fight in him. See? Scabby give me the lowdown.”
Vettori rolled up his map, put it in his pocket, then looked at his watch.
“Well,” he said, “got it all?”
Joe turned his diamond ring round on his finger and looked at the table.
“What’s the word, Joe?” said Rico.
“It’s a tough one, Rico. What’s the guarantee?”
“Guarantee, hell!” cried Rico. “Why, a blind guy could do your stand.”
“Well, I ain’t doing no time for fifty bucks,” said Joe.
Vettori laughed.
“I’ll give you a couple hundred now,” he said.
Joe nodded.
“All right. I’m in. Never mind the couple hundred.”
They all got to their feet. Below them the jazz band was still playing and the saxophone was still sending vibrations along the floor.
“What’ll you have, boys,” said Vettori, “want some drinks sent up?”
“Not me,” said Tony, “I’m going over and see my woman.”
Otero clapped his hands.
“He’s got a woman.”
Rico hit Otero on the back.
“The Greek’s got a woman too,” said Rico.
Otero with his hands cupped made a series of curves in the air. Joe was patronizing; Olga Stassoff, the dancer, was his woman.
“A beauty is she, Otero?”
“Si, señor.”
“Well,” said Vettori, “want
