killed him.”
Grossman tried not to act impressed, but a twitch at the lower right corner of his mouth betrayed him. The girl was trying to keep her demure facial expression intact, but Nolan got a glimpse of her pink tongue flicking out over dry lips. Nolan continued, telling them briefly of the situation he was in with Charlie, but naming no names or particulars. He explained that the Family’s interference with him while on a job had caused the word to get out in the trade that it was dangerous to work with him. And he told them of his need to make another hit to settle his Family differences by way of cash payoff.
Jon, who supposedly had heard the same story from Planner, gave Grossman a tense look and said, “Does that sound reasonable enough to you? Or does anything said by anybody other than yourself ever sound reasonable to you?”
Grossman shrugged.
“How many men,” the girl asked Nolan, “have you . . . had to kill?”
Nolan turned to look at her and her blue eyes locked his in; where they’d been warm, they were now hot.
“A few,” he said.
“How the hell do we know,” Grossman said, courage regathered, “that this dude isn’t just some washed-up stum-blebum pal of Planner’s, looking for a meal ticket and trying to snow us with his big Godfather fairy tale?”
“You don’t,” Nolan said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The girl touched Grossman’s arm and said, “I think he’s leveling with us, Gross.”
The long-haired youth slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a smile which was, Nolan felt, remarkably soft and obedient, considering what a rebel Grossman obviously pictured himself to be. “You think,” he said, “we should give gramps here a chance?”
She nodded. “That I do.”
“Anything you say, babe. Okay, old man, where do we go from here?”
“Where I suggested we go,” Nolan said, “before you went into your tantrum. Somebody fill me in.”
Grossman clenched his teeth and talked through them. “Now look, old man, only so much am I willing to take . . .”
“Hey, Gross, cool it, huh?” The girl touched his cheek with a pink-nailed hand. “You’re the one dishing it out, right? Let’s give him the chance you said you’d give him.”
Grossman withdrew his arm from around her shoulders, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back. “Okay, babe.”
Jon said, “All right. I’ll tell Nolan what’s been going on.”
Their plan, as Jon outlined it to Nolan, was fairly simple. Shelly had been working at Port City Savings and Trust for nearly three months now, using the name Elaine Simmons and false credentials courtesy of Planner, and was well trusted and liked at the bank. Jon’s plan was to hit the bank, “kidnap” teller Shelly and, by having this ready-made “hostage,” be able to make a clean, unhampered getaway.
“No,” Nolan said.
The three kids looked at him, shocked. Jon started to say something and Nolan cut him off.
“No,” he repeated. “It’s lousy . . . the hostage idea is okay, but you’re using it all wrong.”
“I say dump the old man here and now,” Grossman said, “and to hell with him! We don’t need any fucking fourth wheel anyhow.”
“Quiet,” Jon said. “What’s so lousy about the plan, Nolan?”
“You got in mind what’s called a ‘smash and grab.’ That’s a type of job a pro tries only when he’s down and desperate for a stake, and with little or no planning, let alone this elaborate hostage thing you’re setting up. You have an inside agent, a valuable asset on a job, which you plan to use in a next-to-useless way.”
The girl moved forward in the backseat and said, “Why is that?”
“Look at it like this,” Nolan said. “You’ll already have pulled the FBI in on it, since the bank is covered by federal funds. Next you want to add a needless kidnapping charge which will just get everybody all the more upset, and probably get national coverage.”
“But it isn’t a real
Grossman tried not to act impressed, but a twitch at the lower right corner of his mouth betrayed him. The girl was trying to keep her demure facial expression intact, but Nolan got a glimpse of her pink tongue flicking out over dry lips. Nolan continued, telling them briefly of the situation he was in with Charlie, but naming no names or particulars. He explained that the Family’s interference with him while on a job had caused the word to get out in the trade that it was dangerous to work with him. And he told them of his need to make another hit to settle his Family differences by way of cash payoff.
Jon, who supposedly had heard the same story from Planner, gave Grossman a tense look and said, “Does that sound reasonable enough to you? Or does anything said by anybody other than yourself ever sound reasonable to you?”
Grossman shrugged.
“How many men,” the girl asked Nolan, “have you . . . had to kill?”
Nolan turned to look at her and her blue eyes locked his in; where they’d been warm, they were now hot.
“A few,” he said.
“How the hell do we know,” Grossman said, courage regathered, “that this dude isn’t just some washed-up stum-blebum pal of Planner’s, looking for a meal ticket and trying to snow us with his big Godfather fairy tale?”
“You don’t,” Nolan said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
The girl touched Grossman’s arm and said, “I think he’s leveling with us, Gross.”
The long-haired youth slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a smile which was, Nolan felt, remarkably soft and obedient, considering what a rebel Grossman obviously pictured himself to be. “You think,” he said, “we should give gramps here a chance?”
She nodded. “That I do.”
“Anything you say, babe. Okay, old man, where do we go from here?”
“Where I suggested we go,” Nolan said, “before you went into your tantrum. Somebody fill me in.”
Grossman clenched his teeth and talked through them. “Now look, old man, only so much am I willing to take . . .”
“Hey, Gross, cool it, huh?” The girl touched his cheek with a pink-nailed hand. “You’re the one dishing it out, right? Let’s give him the chance you said you’d give him.”
Grossman withdrew his arm from around her shoulders, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back. “Okay, babe.”
Jon said, “All right. I’ll tell Nolan what’s been going on.”
Their plan, as Jon outlined it to Nolan, was fairly simple. Shelly had been working at Port City Savings and Trust for nearly three months now, using the name Elaine Simmons and false credentials courtesy of Planner, and was well trusted and liked at the bank. Jon’s plan was to hit the bank, “kidnap” teller Shelly and, by having this ready-made “hostage,” be able to make a clean, unhampered getaway.
“No,” Nolan said.
The three kids looked at him, shocked. Jon started to say something and Nolan cut him off.
“No,” he repeated. “It’s lousy . . . the hostage idea is okay, but you’re using it all wrong.”
“I say dump the old man here and now,” Grossman said, “and to hell with him! We don’t need any fucking fourth wheel anyhow.”
“Quiet,” Jon said. “What’s so lousy about the plan, Nolan?”
“You got in mind what’s called a ‘smash and grab.’ That’s a type of job a pro tries only when he’s down and desperate for a stake, and with little or no planning, let alone this elaborate hostage thing you’re setting up. You have an inside agent, a valuable asset on a job, which you plan to use in a next-to-useless way.”
The girl moved forward in the backseat and said, “Why is that?”
“Look at it like this,” Nolan said. “You’ll already have pulled the FBI in on it, since the bank is covered by federal funds. Next you want to add a needless kidnapping charge which will just get everybody all the more upset, and probably get national coverage.”
“But it isn’t a real
Similar Books
