part 3
There'd always been two of them, even if his brother was scrawnier than he was and too sickly to back him up, there'd been two of them... Then Bertie was took away and it was only him to be the target of the pranks the other blokes in the neighborhood pulled... When they brought his brother home and shipped him off to a strange village instead, to stay with people they claimed were relations it was only just him,,, he didn't know any of them from Jack the lad. His cousins were into all sorts of things,,, they were bigger and older than him too. It didn't take more than one good beating and they easily bent him to their will. He found he didn't spend much time with them if he could manage it, running off to wander the streets of the village instead. It wasn't no better there though because he had to deal with bands of local boys who were only too glad to have him as a target. When his uncle finally gave up tryin' to make things right for him and set him up at the vicar's school he was all alone when he run a foul of that pervert. Soon as he could he run home again, getting there just as Bertie was dyin'.
He lived on the streets for a bit, when his folks didn't have nothin' left to deal with him after his brother died, and he started plying his trade among the shopkeepers in the area... But he'd learned his lessons, he hooked up with a crowd of older boys and did just what he was told, and handed over everything he took...well, except for a little bauble or two that might a took his fancy. When he was picked up the first time and taken home he had to face his fathers' anger... The old man wasn't disappointed in him for going bad, being involved in what the law considered 'undesirable activity' was something of a family business. No, he was in a strop over the boy getting caught and bringing old Bill home where he could snoop into his own doin's. His dad eventually died of cancer but not before seeing him well set up on a criminal career. He was his fence and his first tutor. He saw to it he learned from the best in the business when it come to pick pocketing and second story work ... all for a price a 'course. Goniff turned all the takin's over, either to his own father, or to the man he was apprenticed to. The little fancies he made off with he usually give to his Mum. He told her he got the money running messages up on the high street and bought the little treasures for her. If she knew where he really got 'em she never said.
After his father died he had to hook up with a group that could keep him safe. It wasn't hard. He'd never been very big, and he wasn't aggressive at all, he just didn't seem to have it in him. So the lads on the street knew he wasn't gonna be no trouble. Goniff was used to turning the lion's share of his takings over to someone else... And he was good at what he did. They said he could steal a marks breath if he wanted, or find his way into a building through a key hole if there weren't no other way. He was so good in fact he stopped havin' to think about what he was doin' and sometimes he'd fall to day dreamin when he was on a job. That's what done him under.
The lads set him the task a getting inside a flat up in London. The bloke and his missus were known to keep a fair amount of jewelry and cash layin' about and they was on a high enough rung of the snobbery ladder that their doin's were listed in the society columns of the London rags. There was a big charity do at some country estate and they'd be gone for the week so the way was clear... except for the doorman who took his job and pension seriously enough to actually wander the building and keep track of who was comin' in and out. That was no real problem though, he wouldn't be goin' through the door, there were other ways.
There was a building to the west of the one they wanted, just across a narrow street. The thing was gutted, the owners trying to turn it into flashier flats in order to draw in bigger rents. It was a tall building and rather than have his workers clambering up and down ladders and scaffolds to work up on the very top the crew boss had worked a deal with the fancy place next door. They'd arrange their work schedule around any swanky do the residents of the building wanted to schedule in exchange for letting his crew throw a catwalk across the even narrower alley that separated the places and use their freight lift to get to the job. It'd been Goniff got wind a that arrangement and mention it to one a the blokes in the gang.... He chatted up one a the maids that worked in the target building and got other info too. There'd be more 'n just that one flat open to them if they just waited a few days. The residents of the building had their own party planned for the end a the week. A 'course he didn't get none a the credit when the information floated to the top man's ears.
They'd gone to work with the crew on that gutted building, some of them. They hauled rubble and supplies for the more skilled workers while they cased the buildings and refined their plan. The crew boss was a good fella, careful of honorin' his agreement with the place next door. On the day of the party he made sure the work was finished up early, even seein' to it the lift was swept clean when they was done with it... in fact his attention to that little detail, and a bit of shuffle footing by his mates is what left Goniff up on top a the building without being missed.
It was going to be easy enough. All he had to do was wait until it was dark and the party was in full swing. He'd slip across the cat walk and fill his bags from the jewel boxes and stashes of the flats next door and haul it all down to his mates waitin' in the alley below. The only thing those toffs would have left was what they was wearin' at that fancy bash... or what they was clever enough to stash in a safe or lock box that was too heavy to carry away. Goniff settled in, layin' out on his back on the tarps and squirming to get comfortable he munched on the meat pie he'd brung along and stared up at the night sky.
There weren't no stars overhead, the city was too full of light and the sky, even here in the moneyed side too filled with smoke drifting in from the factories. He could imagine the stars were there though. He'd seen 'em once or twice when he was just a kid and went away when his brother was dyin' ... It was the only good memory of them times, seein stars overhead at night. Goniff started in dreamin' a how them stars sparkled and gradually they turned into the twinkling lights that was strung up at fairs and circuses... Circus work, now there was somethin' that might be right up his alley. ...
When the tower clock struck the hour it was all he could do to pull his wits back and get about the business at hand. He made his way across the narrow plank that led to the top of the building that was going to deliver such a lovely haul. Carefully he slipped in and out of the flats that opened their doors to him... the owners thinking themselves safe enough in their own building that they hadn't bothered with the locks when they set out for a night of revelry... For the wiser tenants he just scrambled down a drainpipe and in a window. By the time he was finished his pack was stuffed and he was stooped over a little under the load.
He had to stop and consider how he'd manage going back across that plank that lay from the top of one building to the top of the other. He shifted the pack on his back so it was more comfortable and he practiced a bit on a pipe that lay there on the roof, just to test out his balance. Just a bit wobbly he decided to use the pipe like he seen them high wire artist do .... And that was all it took. Goniff's imagination took flight and instead of being a top rate cat burglar he was transformed into a wire walking star. He slipped his foot out on the four inch wide plank and rather than just making his way across he fairly danced. When the copper shined his torch light on him when he was about five feet from the end of his run he was still so caught up in the fantasy that he gave a cheeky grin and bowed! It wasn't until the cuffs were on and he was being hustled into the police lorry that it really sunk in what had happened.
Seems the doorman had been out having a smoke when Goniff made his way across and into the building. He'd rung up the constables and rather than track him through the building as he worked they decided to just lay and wait for him. If he gave them any trouble and they had to get rough at least on this mere skeleton of a building they wouldn't be doing any damage to some blokes fancy digs.
But a 'course he didn't give 'em any trouble, Goniff never gave nobody no trouble. In fact he did such a good job a not givin' them any trouble during his time with 'em the coppers got to likin' him. Some of 'em even stood up for him in front of the magistrate and explained to his nibs how they'd plucked him off the building after he'd done his little high wire act. How he'd been easy goin' inside and even how they'd had him out to one a the old timer's retirement teas and he'd entertained them all with his sleight of hand tricks. As far as they could find out he'd never done nothin' that included any kind a weapon ner been tied up in any caper that'd gotten any one hurt.
With the support of the local bobby's and helped along by his cheeky grin and likeable manner the judge decided someone his age could 'rehabilitate' hisself and he 'invited' him to leave the country. He could go to Australia the man said, or Canada. Goniff didn't think he'd take to the heat and flat vastness of the outback, he'd seen a picture show once and they run a news reel about a sheep station that was set up out in all that nothingness... Just didn't seem like a place he'd want to be stuck in, besides, those kangaroo things they had down there just weren't natural! So he picked Canada. They shoved him on a boat and with the money his Mum pushed in his hand he set off.
Aw, it was alright he 'sposed, for some. The cities were compact and clean. There was work enough, respectable work, and since he didn't come with a record it was easy enough to get a job. But for him it just seemed too, ... too farmish. The edge of the cities faded right away into rolling countryside. And his one experience with living in the 'country' had started because Bertie was gonna die and ended with that damn vicar. So even though there were stars enough overhead to fill a hundred fantasies Goniff started moving, looking in one city after another for a place that felt right and comfortable.
He eventually slipped across the border into America and stayed a while in Chicago. It was easy to pick up money. Just one pass down a crowded street and he was set for the week. But it still didn't feel right so he kept on traveling. He finally found what he was looking for in the skyscrapers of New York. Goniff was entranced by the crowds and the lights and the bustle. There were neighborhoods where to walk across a boulevard was like wanderin' into a whole different country. He was sure this was just the place for him, ... so sure he slipped back across the border and arranged to come in all legal and proper so he could stay. He was so sure that he got hisself a job and a little flat and sent for his Mum to come over to join him. So sure that, for a while anyway, he was satisfied with his little clerk's wages and that tiny little flat that was just big enough for him and his Mum. So sure that he managed to keep his nose clean long enough to get his papers and make hisself a real American.
But after a while, well, his fingers just seemed to itch to perform their magic again. He remembered how he'd entertained the coppers and tried to work up a little act to do on the street corners. He was good at it and it was fun and he was making a bit more than clerks pay in the coins the crowd dropped into his box as he told his jokes and did his tricks. When the crowds got big enough though they drew the attention of the local sharks and they'd hit him up for their share of his takings. He turned over what they asked, just like he'd always done. When they wanted more, he give 'em more... when they wanted a cut a what his Mum made at her newsstand though he drew the line.
Goniff made a deal with them. He'd go to workin' full time for them and give 'em whatever they asked if they'd just stay clear a his Mum. They scoffed at the deal at first, until he took the big man's wallet, keys and watch, even the ring off his finger without him knowin' more than that he'd just shaken hands with a street performer. He told his Mum he'd got hisself an offer to work with a traveling show and helped arrange for his aunt Molly to come over to live so Mum wouldn't be there all on her own, and as soon as they was settled in all cozy he took off.
He worked crowds mostly, at first. And if New York didn't have anything else, it had crowds. The theater district was the best. The blokes wallets were full and the birds tricked out in their finest jewelry. Then he'd let it drop about his second story skills and after another little demonstration he found hisself working in the fanciest buildings in the city. A 'course he rarely used the main entrances, no doorman needed to pull a heavy glass door open for him. Windows, skylights, air vents... those were the gateways he used to reach his prizes.
New York was rich and the society toffs gathered there just like they done in London. He worked through their flats and apartments at the direction of his handlers. And just like London, he give up most a what he took. But not all. Goniff liked small sparkly things and some of the jewelry he took just sort of stuck to his fingers. He had a pouch that he kept hidden on him and if a piece caught his eye he could slip it in with no one the wiser, just like he could slip a watch off a mark's wrist or a wallet out of his pocket and go whistling on his way with no one knowin'. Later when he was alone some times he'd take a piece or two out and dream over it a while. His little stash was growing and he knew it held enough that he might even be able to use it to get away on his own.... But he didn't really want to part with any of his baubles.
Just like no one who does a dangerous job for a living gets away without any kind a injury, no one who works outside the rules of society gets through to the end of their career without being caught, at least once. Goniff weren't no different. He was good, and he'd learned his lesson and now he kept his wits about him when he worked so it took some time but eventually he got hisself picked up. Unfortunately some of the pieces he'd slipped into his little pouch were high class and one of a kind and could be traced back to dozens of jobs all along the east coast. He couldn't claim that it was just his first time doin' a little burgling to make some money in tough times, and his cheeky grin didn't go over well with the judge that sat staring down at him from the bench. He got his conviction and even though, just like back in England he'd never done nothin' violent, because those little baubles come from all over, because he crossed state lines to get some of 'em, he earned hisself a stay in a federal lock up instead a one a the local joints.
He had to move quick in stir and hook up with a bloke that'd protect him and not take advantage. He found a fella who was certainly big enough for the protection part, but he wasn't so sure about the rest so when Garrison showed up and the prison warden marked him out as one a the best pick pockets he'd come across, when the officer made his pitch, he was more than willing to go with him... And Blimey! Talk about protection. The whole bloody Army there to watch his back? And a parole waitin' for him after the job! What could be better than that?! But fidgeting there on his stool in the basement of the caf�, faced with the likes a Wheeler and watchin' German jack boots march past the window that sat up high in the wall, losin' what little good sense he had and mouthin' off to the bully like he done, even though it was over that dishy little skirt...and already havin' to fight a desire to go outside when it got dark to see if there were stars, ... Goniff begun to wonder if being locked up hadn't done somethin' seriously permanent to the inside a his head.
g
Garrison watched the activity out on the street through the window. DuChamps continued absence was beginning to worry him. The contact was to have cased the printing plant they were to hit and be there with the details when they landed. The set up had been for them to pick up what they needed on the way in, hit the plant and be gone in time to meet up with the squad again for their trip out. Something had to have gone wrong. His mind turned over the possibilities again... He had contingency plans in the works before they'd ever left the airfield in England and it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to rework a plan from the ground up once he got on the scene. He knew he could handle himself and he knew he could work with the underground, but he had five unknown factors in the men waiting down in the basement. He surveyed the street again then turned for the cellar. He better get down there and check on them. All he needed was for Wheeler or one of the others to panic and make a break for it.
When DuChamps finally showed up there was a problem, one of the bigger ones. The German's were moving the plates they wanted. The men were all for turning back, and he could hardly blame them, but the mission was to switch the plates not just hit that printing plant. He had to come up with a way to snatch them on the run. The light that came into the con man's eye when he pitched his idea confirmed his opinion that the man was in it for the thrill of the work as well as the parole. Keep him interested and he had him hooked. The rest just followed along, they really didn't have any other choice.
Collecting the equipment they needed hadn't been much of a problem. The men he'd chosen were tops in their craft, but Garrison knew waiting was never easy and he didn't want to give the men too much time to think about what could go wrong. They were on the road ready to block the path the column would take with only a few minutes to spare. When Chief signaled from the top of the hill they'd fired up their vehicles and pulled onto the road, turning across it just as the line of trucks came into view. 'First big test,' he thought as he climbed out and headed for the trucks. 'All they have to do is pull out and leave me stranded.'
It had taken time for his little proposal to take hold. There were still more who scoffed at it than believed it could work. The only reason it had been given a chance was that he'd agreed to head up the outfit until they proved themselves valuable. He hadn't minded taking the risk. And it was a risk..., a big one. Whoever went out with these guys stood a good chance of getting caught and shot as a spy, and an even bigger one of getting his throat slit or a bullet in the back of his head from the men themselves. Even though he had his eyes on the German officer, even while he was trying to explain to the irate man why his progress had just been blocked, he had his ears on the untested group behind him. When the German general came forward and started his little tirade and he still hadn't heard the engines turn over he started to breathe again. Looked like the bunch was going to stick around after all.... 'Probably just waiting around to watch me get shot!'
Garrison got the reaction he was depending on. As soon as the general knew the SS was involved his resistance crumbled. When he ordered Casino and Chief down off the truck and started them on the task of searching through the column he finally let himself relax, a little. What they needed now was enough luck to find what they were after... and time enough for Casino to overcome whatever security measures the Germans had taken to protect the plates and switch them with the coded ones he'd carried from England. Garrison kept an eye on the men as they search the column. When Chief finally pulled out of the tank and gave the signal he took a deep breath and congratulated himself that he'd made the right choice. Now all they had to do was stall the column long enough for the safecracker, Casino, to work his magic. But it had taken longer than he expected for them to turn the hiding place. He stood thinking for a moment when they reached the end of the line of men. Turning he ordered the soldiers to open the first button on their uniforms and extend their arms. He and Goniff would just have to make another pass down the line and hope it bought them enough time.
g
Actor was a prop, a set piece, dressing to bring their con to life. All he had to do was sit in the car and smoke while Garrison directed events as they played out on the dusty section of road they'd chosen for their stage. He wasn't used to playing so passive a part but though it was unaccustomed he used the time to his advantage by studying the man that led them. He found himself evaluating the Army officer's abilities as a confidence man. The man was calm, his German was impeccable. He carried the uniform well, almost as if he were born to it, and he showed the proper deference to the general officer he was faced with. It was easy to believe that he was merely caught in an uncomfortable position between the general and the desires of their fictitious field marshal. Actor sat back and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs. It was surprising but Garrison seemed to be a natural at this. He was certainly familiar with the ruse they were using. The Englishman, Goniff, was right. He might have made a great con man... He might still, the con man thought, if he could just find a way to concentrate his persuasive abilities on him.
Casino strained to hear the tumblers fall into place. The box the Indian found had three pad locks protecting it and it had taken him a little longer to get through them than he expected. Then he was faced with the dial. With the box sitting flat like it was the tumblers didn't make much noise and he'd missed on the first pass and was working his way through again. Ten minutes Garrison said, and it had taken them most of that to find the damn thing.... This was going to be close.
Wheeler sat watching the lieutenant and that little English creep shove back sleeves and peer at the backs a the soldiers necks. He didn't pay any attention to the other two, they weren't gonna get those damn plates! What they were gonna get was killed... He toyed with the idea of just pulling out and leaving but everyone a those soldiers in that line had a piece hangin' off his belt, and there was a motorcycle..., the guy in the sidecar had a machine gun. He was stuck. If he took off now all he'd get was shot full a holes. And it was playing out just like he thought. The two on the ground were at the end of the line again and that little general was goin' up in flames. As soon as he saw the Indian runnin' for the front of the column he fired up the engine. He wanted to be ready to beat it.
There wasn't anything left to do. They'd reached the top of the line again without finding their 'dumb john.' When the general ordered them off the road and out of his way they had to head back to the cars. Garrison hoped the two men searching the column had learned enough German to recognize the orders that were being shouted up and down the line of trucks. He settled in behind the wheel and waited, watching as Chief and Casino double timed their way back to the vehicles they'd commandeered. The two came to a halt next to his car and did a fair imitation of coming to attention.
"You make the switch?"
"Huh uh. I didn't have enough time."
Fighting the impulse to swear Garrison jerked his chin towards to other vehicle. "Get back with Wheeler."
"Five more minutes, that's all we needed!"
Goniff was right. Just a few extra minutes and they would have been able to complete the job. Craig mentally kicked himself for making the decision to bypass the soldier they'd come across in the line-up who actually had scratches on his neck. The time it took for the man to stammer out his explanation probably would have bought them the time they needed. If he'd been a 'great con man' he never would've let that little opportunity slip by.
"It's going to be tough to find another con that will work on this bunch."
Garrison turned and watched the line of trucks pull past. "We'll find one."
g
Garrison dropped them at the caf� with orders to 'stay put' then took off with the Frenchman to hit his contacts up for information on the column. If the men took off he'd have to find a way to finish the job on his own but by the way Casino had groused and grumbled all the way back into town he was pretty sure the safe cracker wouldn't be going anywhere. If he read him right his ego wouldn't let him leave until he'd mastered that little locked box that was hidden in the floor of that tank.
ggg
"Big man! Get through any lock in nuthin' flat!" Wheeler threw the insult across the cellar at Casino. "Well big man, how come that little cash box tripped you up?"
"That 'little cash box' had four locks on it wise guy!" He cocked an eyebrow in the blowhard's direction. "You wanna try it next time?" Casino pushed to his feet and started towards Wheeler. Blowing that job had gotten to him, he wasn't used to failure. Takin' Wheeler's head off for him was just the kinda thing to take the edge off....
Wheeler bellied up to the safecracker. "I'd have just as good a chance at breakin' into that thing as you..."
"Oh sure! Second string dummy like you'd have no chance at all. You probably couldn't get into that thing if I handed you the keys!"
Chief shot a worried look at the cellar window then at Actor. The con man heaved a sigh as he got to his feet. Two long strides and he was standing between the two. "Quiet both of you! If you're heard out on the street no one will get a chance at that box."
Wheeler's angry stare changed immediately to disbelief as his gaze shifted to the European confidence man. "Are you outta your mind?!" But the look on the con man's face was reflected in the safecracker's. "You guys aren't crazy enough to make a play for those things again?!"
"I suggest, Wheeler, that if we can get our hands on those plates they would be the perfect thing to use to make new contacts, even here."
"You're crazy! We put the snatch on those things and every Kraut within a hundred miles is gonna be out after blood. Ours!"
"The job is to switch the plates Wheeler, not just steal them. If we do our jobs properly the Germans won't even know they are missing."
"Yeah but we still have to get past that damn Army warden."
"That might not be as difficult as it may seem."
"What? You got something?"
"Perhaps." Their attention was focused on him, the fight forgotten. Actor settled into the chair at the table and told them what he'd seen.
g
Back at the mansion Actor's curiosity had gotten the better of him. He wanted to know more about the man the Army had chosen to lead them and even at his most charming he'd failed to get the information from the man himself so he'd turned to Goniff and together they'd hatched a scheme to get what he wanted. He provided the distraction and the little pick pocket's talents did the rest. Two evenings before they found themselves on the plane to France Actor sat apparently reading the local paper, what he was actually doing was studying Garrison's dossier. It didn't hold the answers to all of his questions but it gave him at least a little background on the man. The next morning he took the men through their language lessons as usual, wrapping them up just a little early, and then managed to talk the guard into taking him downstairs for his meeting with the lieutenant before he was sent for, for a change. He'd been extremely cooperative with this particular guard and had earned his trust. A few moments after they arrived in the hall outside Garrison's office he suggested the man go for coffee as he usually did while he and the lieutenant had their meeting. A reminder that there was a soldier stationed at the end of each of the hallways and every one of the doors leading out of the mansion was all it took to convince the young guard that there was no chance of him making a break for freedom.
Actor waited a few moments to make sure his young guard hadn't had second thoughts before he made his move. All he was going to do was slip the folder back in the file cabinet where Goniff said he'd found it and then go back to his seat outside in the hall to wait for the daily meeting he had with the lieutenant. He stood a moment outside the door and listened. It was the routine that while they were upstairs engaged in the language lessons Garrison was out on the grounds seeing to his own conditioning. Though he very often observed them while they made their way around the obstacle course, worked out on the firing range, or practiced their hand-to-hand skills he did not participate in their training, leaving that to Sergeant Major Rawlins. It was silent on the other side of the door just as the con man had expected.
Actor gently turned the knob and carefully opened the door. It may have been silent behind the door but the room wasn't empty. Before he could pull the door shut again he'd been caught as Rawlins glanced up with a scowl.
"What do you think you're doing in 'ere, then? You were never sent for!"
"Oh. I am very sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I can come back at another time."
The Sergeant Major turned and faced the sophisticated criminal, shielding his commander from view as he slipped his shirt back over his head.
"That'll be all Sergeant Major."
"Sir?" Gil almost made the mistake of starting an argument in front of the group's confidence man but a sharp look from the lieutenant caused the words to die on his lips.
"I said, that will be all Sergeant Major Rawlins." Garrison watched the disapproving glance the British NCO gave him turn to distrust as he turned to considered the convict standing in the doorway and then melt into resignation. He continued buttoning his shirt as the non-com gathered his supplies. "... And, thanks."
Rawlins studied his CO a moment longer before turning on his heel and marching to the door. With a pointed look at the con man he declared. "I'll be right outside, sir."
"What is it Actor?...." Garrison settled himself behind the desk and waited.
"I merely thought I'd surprise you by being early for our meeting for a change..." Actor pulled the chair out and took a seat. He had the files on all the men in his hand as usual along with the one on Garrison. Leaning forward he slid them onto a stack of files that were already on the young officer's desk, deftly sliding the man's own file into the bottom of the stack. Relaxing back into the chair he waited for the session to start.
g
"Sergeant Major Rawlins was applying some sort of dressing or support to Lieutenant Garrison's back or ribs, I am sure of it." He glanced around at the others to see if they understood. "Even if it was only tape it means our young leader has an injury he is trying to conceal. That's why he didn't participated in our training exercises on the obstacle course, that's why he wasn't the one to demonstrate any of the techniques of hand-to-hand or do more than just observe at the jump tower."
"You mean he's damaged goods!?" Wheeler slapped his fist into his open palm as he turned away. "Beautiful! Beautiful!"
"I wouldn't get too excited Wheeler. Blimey, the Army must think he's up to the job or they'd never send the bloke out on this caper."
"Yeah?" Casino snorted. "Either that or they figure they're not losin' much if he gets himself, ... and us killed and doesn't make it back."
"Still it means that if we do decide to part company with Lieutenant Garrison he will be less likely to follow us."
"You mean just take off and leave the bloke on his own over here?" Goniff couldn't believe he was asking that question, or that he was feeling a little sorry for the Army screw at being left to his own devices if they took off.
"Goniff, he undoubtedly has many contacts here with the underground. If we leave they will help him get safely back to England."
"IF we leave? You mean if we leave him alive!" Wheeler turned to glare at the men gathered around the table. What kind of idiots was he hooked up with anyway!? The warden was damaged goods, a prime target now and after what he'd put them all through he wasn't about to let him keep breathin one minute longer than absolutely necessary.
"Oh come on! Even you can't be that stupid." Casino straighten up to face Wheeler and they were toe to toe again. "We leave that guy in the dust after we do the job and the Army might just forget all about us, figure their little experiment just didn't work. You off him and every guy in uniform packing a rifle'll be on our trail from now til doomsday!"
"He's right, man. Killin' that guy'd be just like killin' a cop."
Wheeler stared at them a moment before spinning away. Stalking into the back of the cellar, back into the shadows, he started pacing off his frustration. He hated it over here. He hated not knowin' what was goin' on... As he paced his fear turned to anger and he started planning. He could take the guy, he knew it now... The others were just a bunch a chumps, they just didn't have the guts, but once he made his move they'd fall in line.
Chief watched Wheeler pace. The guy was afraid, that made him dangerous. He studied the man a moment more before he turned back to the table. "How'd you figure on doin' it Actor?"
The men leaned together around the table and listened as the con man laid out his idea.
"I believe we should go along with Lieutenant Garrison's plans, whatever they may be."
"Blimey! You mean take the chance and go after those plates again? Whyn't we just grab the ones that bloody screw has and take off?"
Actor shrugged. "I've had time to reconsider. The plates the lieutenant carries are coded, the ones the German's have are not."
The safecracker had obviously come to the same conclusion and it didn't take the other two long to pick up on his idea... The German plates were more valuable, the money from them wouldn't be able to be traced. The bills from Garrison's plates would be traceable, if you knew what to look for..., and the authorities would know exactly what to look for. If they were going to use the plates to get in tight with the network of European criminals so they could make their way on the continent they'd never pull it off using plates that would set the Feds or their European counterparts on the trail of whoever used them.... And it wasn't any different here than in the States. You didn't cross guys like that.... They might live long enough to make some money from a couple of jobs, but they'd never live long enough to spend it, not after the buyers found out.... It'd be safer to take their chances with the Germans.
Casino glanced over his shoulder at Wheeler. "I say we go along with Wheeler's plans too."
"What'd you mean?"
"He's gonna try and take Garrison. I say let him." The safecracker shrugged. "If he can manage it, swell. We get Garrison's plates, we get rid of him and Wheeler...."
Actor nodded. "The resistance reports the tragic loss and we make ourselves heroes by completing the mission." And since they didn't know the coordinates of the meeting, or the code words that would get them off the continent and back to England through Garrison's military contacts they would have to make their way back using civilians, people who would have no idea they needed to be guarded, their every move carefully watched. Yes, it would be much easier that way. And if they decided to take a chance and return to the mansion it would be simple enough to convince the authorities that they'd dumped the German plates along the route back for fear of being caught with them. Still the thought of standing by while another was killed was more than a little unnerving. The short time he'd spent sitting next to the body of the driver of the car they'd appropriated had been almost more than he could endure ... He'd never done anything violent in his career...
Goniff's stomach turned at the thought of bein' there when it happened, of watching while Wheeler and the Army screw fought it out. He always done his best to be someplace else when stuff like that went down.
Casino glanced at the Limey where he sat chewing on his fingers then back at Wheeler. Hey, that was life, right? One a those guys had to go, both would be better, but one of 'em had a chance a makin' it out alive, not a very good one but... That was as fair as life got, right?
He'd never been part of a double cross... Chief wasn't any stranger to violence but it had been the face to face kind. A fight started a guy pulled a knife and you went after him. That's how it had been for him up to now, that's how he'd stayed alive...because he was good at that kind of a fight. Chief picked up the wine bottle that sat on the table and took a hit. The stuff that little English sergeant had tried to show them was different. Plannin' out who stood where and who took the first shot... Practicin' how to kill long distance with those fancy rifles and scopes. He could do it, Rawlins said he was a natural, said he had a 'steady hand and eyes like a snake'....