Harry & the Bikini Bandits Read online

  “You get up on that roof?”

  “Yes.”

  “No problem?”

  “No.”

  “Time it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tell me about it later. Split now.” And he was off.

  I wandered around. The place confused me. I mean all that kind of naked greed. Eyes gleaming, fighting for space at the tables like it was the only way they could get their kicks. It made me uneasy. I couldn’t feel any sympathy for those people. They were just throwing it away. If they lost it good, and if we stole it so much the better.

  Harry was at the crap table. I watched him for a little while but I didn’t really understand the game. Anyway he seemed to be winning. And Burger was losing. He was betting against Harry. His face was red and he was throwing big bills down on the table. I saw Carole Burger come up to him and say something but he only shoved her away.

  I wandered into the men’s room to size it up. It was all pretty much as Grogan had described it. There were plenty of stalls and it would be no problem to camp in one while they fitted the gas masks.

  I wandered out again and that was when I saw Charity. She had come out of the ladies’ room and two kind of husky-looking guys had her blocked off. At first I thought they were trying to pick her up, but then I recognized them. They were off the Chris-Craft. They had her backed up against the wall. They looked mean. One was a big guy about thirty with a crewcut and the beginning of a belly.

  I saw Grogan. He looked more than ever like a very old child. He was watching Charity and the two men and he looked scared.

  Charity was keeping her cool. She ran her hand through her hair and smiled across at Grogan. The crewcut reached out to put his big paw on her arm. The arm, which looked like a little white stick disappeared inside his hand. Her arm was so thin he was able to close his hand completely. She winced and her eyes began to glisten with tears. He was dragging her away now toward the door.

  I had seen enough. I moved fast to block his way.

  “What’s the trouble, Charity?” I said.

  Her face was very pale. I think she was badly frightened. But she smiled and said, “Hello, darling.”

  “Let her go,” I said.

  The crewcut was almost my height but he did have that belly.

  “Move, kid,” he said.

  “Let go of her.”

  I took hold of the hand that was on Charity’s arm and began to pry it loose. That was when he hit me. He did it very fast and, although the thought had occurred to me, I really wasn’t ready for it. He let her go and swung at the same moment. It was a pretty good wallop. For a moment I saw stars. But I was still on my feet. I have been hit harder by a charging fullback. I don’t know much about boxing and I didn’t bother with it. I came forward low and headfirst and took him straight in the belly with my right shoulder. It is probably a good way to break your neck if you don’t know what you’re doing, but I had been practicing it for three years at Peckinpaugh High. What with jumping in and out of old tires and doing pushups I had done like a hundred hours or so of charging a two-hundred-pound sandbag. A two-hundred-pound man was easier. And he wasn’t expecting it. A punch maybe but not a line block. The air went out of him like an exploded balloon and he went down with me on top.

  I got up fast, looking for the other one but I was too late. He hit me while I was still scrambling. He was not as big as his friend, but if anything he hit harder. I went down again. And that was when I heard Harry. He trumpeted like one of those bull elephants in the old Tarzan movies. Bellowed. Came away from that crap table so fast he must have knocked over half a dozen people. Climbed right up the guy’s back like a man going up a slippery pole. Split Mr. Burger’s Nehru jacket down the middle. Wiry red hair sprang out like the stuffing of an old mattress. Had one arm around the guy’s throat and thumped him hard right on the top of the head with his closed fist. It didn’t look like much, but the result was amazing. Guy went down like he had been hit by a thirty-pound sledge. Harry let him drop.

  “You okay, Clay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Charity?”

  “Good-o,” said she.

  Crowds milling all around us now. People asking what happened. Anybody dead? Is it true somebody pulled a knife? Mafia gang war? A hit? A contract? I couldn’t understand what in the world they were talking about. Harry was warding them off.

  “Split,” he said over his shoulder. “Fast. You and Charity. Get back to the boat.”

  We managed to get lost in the crowd and were gone before anybody noticed. Or at least I hoped it was that way. The casino was about the last place where we wanted to attract attention. Everybody there would remember us now. That didn’t necessarily mean they would associate us with anything that happened later, but it certainly increased the risk. It had been a bad stroke of luck and maybe I had been at fault to go to Charity’s rescue in the first place.

  As we went through the door the man in uniform said to me, “What happened in there?”

  “Man had a heart attack.”

  “He dead?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe it was only indigestion.”

  “It sometime take you that way. My sister-in-law…” We were gone before I found out what had happened to his sister-in-law. We hurried along down the winding road and past the parked cars toward the bridge.

  Charity said, “I want to thank you for what you did in there, Clay.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Ruddy motherfuckers.”

  We were halfway over the bridge when I heard the patter of running feet. I looked back and there was Grogan hurrying after us, clutching his solar topee. He looked comical, like one of the seven dwarfs running through the moonlight. We waited for him and he caught up gasping. “Charity!”

  “What, luv?”

  I could swear he blushed. I mean what with the moonlight and all I might have imagined it, but then I don’t suppose anybody had called him “love” in an awfully long time. Like not since he was six months old or so.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Right as rain.”

  “Those swine.”

  “Nothing to it, luv.”

  “The big one? Was he the one who…?”

  “The one I went off on the boat with? Mmm.”

  “Miserable bastard.”

  “Oh well, I don’t think he’ll be interested in girls for a little while anyway. Not after the way our friend Clay here fixed him. What do you call that maneuver anyway?”

  “Just an ordinary line block,” I said.

  “Something out of American football, I take it,” Charity said.

  “Yes.”

  “Jolly good thing to know. You must teach me.”

  “I don’t think you have the build for it. Karate might be better.”

  “Oh that. I had a little Nip offer to teach me that, but as it turned out he had something else in mind. Never learned a bloody hold.”

  “I was about to get into it myself,” said Grogan, “but I was across the room and couldn’t get to you in time.”

  She patted his arm. “Don’t give it a thought, luv. Didn’t Uncle Harry come on though? Like the Queen’s bleeding Grenadiers. I should think those two chaps would want to leave town in an awful hurry.”

  “They’d better,” said Grogan belligerently.

  We walked on across the bridge and said goodnight to Grogan at the pier. He stood watching us as we got down into the raft and rowed back to Jezebel. I felt very sorry for him. He obviously wanted to come with us but what was the point?

  I lit the oil lamp in the cabin and turned on Miss Wong’s portable radio. We picked up ZNS, the Nassau station, and a disc jockey program with records that were at least twenty years old. I was starving and poked around the galley to see if there was any of our basic stew left. It was our standard dish made of rice and tuna fish and ham scraps and onions and potatoes and garlic and anything else left lying around. You just kept throwing things in to make
up for what you took out. Fortunately there was a gallon or two left in the big old iron pot, and I began wolfing it down. Charity fixed herself a drink of vodka and canned grapefruit juice.

  When I had finished eating she said, “I really am very grateful to you, Clay.”

  “Forget it.”

  “If they had gotten me out of there and back onto that pig of a boat, God knows what might have happened.”

  “They were probably only trying to scare you.”

  “Not those two.”

  She put her arm around me and kissed my cheek. Then she kissed my mouth.

  “Mmm, garlic. Luverly.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. She sagged up against me, and I could feel her small breast against my shoulder.

  “Clay…” she breathed.

  I knew what she meant by that. Well, here it was, my chance at last to get in some real boffing. But I couldn’t take it. I didn’t feel much of anything for Charity except pity, and although I did not know much about the art and science of boffing, I knew enough to know that pity was not one of the basic ingredients.

  So we kissed and I breathed garlic down her throat. She was a nice girl but I didn’t want her. What I really wanted was to go to sleep. Now if it had been Miss Wong or Miss McGee…

  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  I said, “Gosh, I’d better put up the anchor light.”

  There was a pause and then she gave a kind of tinny laugh and said, “Ouch. Another line block to the kidneys.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Poor little Clay. A lion on the football field and a mouse off it.”

  I didn’t see any point in arguing about it so I remained silent.

  “Oh go light the bloody lamp,” she said.

  CHAPTER 20

  HARRY GAVE ME HELL. “WHAT A FUCKING half-assed stunt!”

  “What else could I have done?”

  “You could have kept your nose out of it.”

  “And let them just drag her out of there?”

  “It wasn’t your problem. She can take care of herself. Better than you can.”

  “Well, I notice it didn’t take you long to pile in.”

  “The shit had hit the fan by that time.” Suddenly he grinned. “Anyway I didn’t like that bastard’s face. You see that little guy go down?”

  “I saw it. Where did you learn a thing like that?”

  “In a bar in Tokyo. A little Jap not much bigger than Grogan floored me that way. When I came to I asked him to show me how it was done. He explained that where the two halves of the skull grow together there’s a weak spot and if you can find exactly the right place…”

  “Well, you found it on him all right.”

  “You weren’t bad yourself in there, Clay. That big sonofabitch will be limping for a week.”

  There was this feeling of real kinship between us at that moment. Like two kids together. It was the first and last time.

  “What happens now?” I said.

  He shrugged. “We go ahead anyway. You and I were the only ones involved so the others aren’t really affected. Except for Charity, of course. We’ll have to keep her ass out of there. In your case it doesn’t really make much difference because you’ll be outside anyway. And I guess you’d better stay there. Don’t try to come inside when you’ve finished your job.”

  I felt relieved. Fixing the air conditioner was nothing compared to going inside.

  “What about you?” I said.

  “I’ll have to fix up a disguise.”

  “You could shave off your beard.”

  “What?” His hand jumped to that red steel wool. “Are you crazy?”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “Well forget it.”

  I forgot it.

  “By the way,” he said, “have you seen Grogan?”

  “Not since last night.”

  “You mean before or after that fuss?”

  “After. He caught up with us on the bridge after we left.”

  “What did he do that for?”

  “He was worried about Charity.”

  “That was pretty stupid. Anybody could see she was all right.”

  I kept quiet. However Grogan felt about Charity was his business.

  “I can’t find him,” said Harry. “Where did you leave him?”

  “On the dock.”

  “I’ve checked twice this morning with his hotel and nobody has seen him. Damn it all to hell I don’t like it when things begin to happen this way. Too many unexpected twists and turns. We’d better get on with it before the whole thing comes unstuck.”

  I couldn’t help him. I mean the whole thing had been his idea from the start and I was only going along because it was a thing he wanted to do.

  “I’ve got Burger fixed up for the boat,” Harry said.

  “What boat.”

  “The bait boat.”

  “We’re going fishing?”

  “No, stupid. The idea of the bait boat is to draw the chase away from us. As soon as we finish the job, Burger will take off in his Whaler straight out to sea. A boat roaring out of the harbor at that hour of the night ought to attract plenty of attention. Everybody will figure it had something to do with the casino job and they’ll be after him. When they finally catch up with him he’ll want to know what’s wrong with a guy taking his own boat out for a little joyride. By the time they figure all that out we’ll be long gone.”

  “It sounds all right but how did you convince Burger? Did you offer him a share?”

  “Hell no. He doesn’t need the dough. He sells eight million hamburgers every day of his life.”

  “What then?”

  Harry grinned. “You just don’t understand the Burger psyche.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s very simple really. Burger is the kind of a guy who can afford just about anything he wants but is always bothered by the idea that maybe what he wants is not worth anything. And that’s about the way it works out. I mean he’s got the yacht and the good-looking wife and the clothes and the successful business and all the booze he can guzzle, but he keeps wondering why there’s no zest to it. Like a guy walking down a hot dry road thinking about a dish of ice cream. He would sell his soul for a spoonful.

  “But if you put five gallons of it in front of him, he would soon begin to wonder why the fiftieth spoonful didn’t taste as good as the first. Everybody else is enjoying their ice cream so why isn’t he? That’s the rich man’s hang-up, and Burger has an advanced case of it.”

  “Then what did you offer him in place of the ice cream?”

  “Not a thing really. Just a slight refurbishment of his taste buds.”

  “You mean he’s doing it for kicks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that seems reasonable.” It was too. Burger really had nothing to lose. Since he was not getting any of the loot there was no way in which they could ever tie him to the holdup.

  “You’re growing up, Number Three,” said Harry.

  Was I? I didn’t feel grown up. I felt scared and lonely. I felt like bumming my way back to Miami, getting on the Dog, and going home. But going home with my tail between my legs was no good. And I couldn’t give Harry that satisfaction. I admired Harry more than any man I had ever known, but there were times too when I hated him. I felt like he was always testing me against some kind of invisible standard. I was tired of trying to measure up. It was like a never-ending series of school finals and not ever knowing if you were passing or failing. I mean after all, who was he to say how the whole world should live and die?

  “What do you figure to do with your share?” said Harry.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see it first.”

  “You could turn it over to your father. Sensible sound investments. Second mortgages. Eight and a half percent. Retire when you’re sixty-five and take a nice little junket to Paris. Hardware Merchants convention at the George Cinq. How does that grab yo
u?”

  “It’s a thought.”

  “Or you might talk to Brother Burger about the Beat Your Meat franchise for Peckinpaugh, Nebraska. Someday, with luck, you could be as rich and miserable as he is.”

  “True, true.”

  “Or you might seduce the Wong, take up the study of comparative religions, give away all your money, and go to live in Kurdistan with the Kurds.”

  “Or I might just buy a Ferrari and go to Val d’Isere and go skiing with Jean-Claude Killy.”

  “Well now. Well now. Is this my little crewcut nephew from Nebraska?”

  “The same.”

  He shook his head. “Not quite. Not quite.”

  CHAPTER 21

  GROGAN TURNED UP AFTER ALL. HE LOOKED haggard. He said he had been rechecking the air-conditioning duct system, but I don’t think that was it. I think he had been out boozing. His hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot, and you could smell the whiskey ten feet off. Harry took one look at him and had a fit.

  “Goddamn it, Grogan, I ought to beat your ass.”

  Grogan drew himself up to his full four-feet-ten and said with an air of wounded dignity, “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’ve been on the sauce, you little bastard.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “This is one sweet time to go on a bender.”

  “Man does not live by bread alone, Harry.”

  “Nor by Haig and Haig either. I swear if you blow this thing, I’ll kill you, Grogan.”

  “I don’t think I particularly appreciate your attitude.”

  “Fuck my attitude. What I want to know is will you be ready to go tomorrow night?”

  “You can count on me.”

  “I can count on you to get scared shitless and run to the bottle. That’s what I can count on.”

  The little man drew out a cigarette and held it in his trembling fist.

  “There’s no need to be abusive, Harry.”

  “No need!” Harry got red in the face and I thought his blue eyes would pop out of his head like ping-pong balls. He ran his hand through his beard until the hair seemed to give off sparks. “Just remember one thing, little man. We’re not back in the Med trying to push five dollars worth of cruddy crockery off on the tourists. If you blow this thing, we are liable to wind up in the soup for good. Now if it’s too much, you can still back away. There are planes out of here twenty times a day. Pack your toothbrush and be on the next one. Just don’t hang around where I can find you. Well?”