At 1:32, the International Armored Car Corp. truck pulled up at the offices of American Steel and two armed guards transported the payroll into the steel-plated truck. At 1:35, the The Big Day truck from the Safeguard Company arrived at Tartogue Aircraft to pick up its payroll load.
At 1:37, Anson Grubb said, “You’d better hurry, Carl.”
“I’m hurrying,” Carl answered. He was wearing a pale yellow sports shirt, and he stood before the mirror now, knotting a tie. He did not put either a sports jacket or a suit jacket over the shirt He wore, instead, a red plaid lumber jacket. The other men would follow the same sartorial plan. Over the lumber jackets would go overcoats. Once they were in the car and away from the bank after the holdup, the overcoats, the wigs, the false hair and the built-up noses, the neckties, all would be dumped into a suitcase in the backseat of the car. Anyone who’d seen them in the bank would remember men in overcoats, wearing neckties. Once they left that bank, their physical appearances would be completely changed. The three men in the car would be wearing lumber jackets and sports shirts. They would be of different hair coloring than the men who’d robbed the bank. Their faces would look different. They would all be clean shaven, whereas the two men who’d robbed the bank had worn mustaches. Only the driver of the car — if anyone happened to see him — had sported a hairless face.
But the escape precautions did not end at this point. Three men traveling alone, no matter what their description, would certainly be suspect after a bank had been looted by three strangers. Two drop-off points had been marked along the escape route. Jeremy would be dropped off first, carrying the suitcase with the overcoats and the rest of the junk. He would run around to the back of the car and — in the event anyone had caught the license number as they’d driven from the bank — he would take off the phony plate that was taped onto the car’s original plate.
Anson would be dropped off two miles later, carrying the suitcase with the money, and also carrying Carl’s gun as well as his own. If Carl were stopped after the two men had been dropped off, he’d be clean as a whistle. He was unarmed. There was no loot in the car. There was nothing in the car which could tie him to the holdup. There was no reason to assume he would be stopped, but if he were, he would be a workman in a lumber jacket, returning to the city after a hard day. A rendezvous point, some thousand miles and two weeks away, had been arranged. It looked perfect.
“I’m going to enjoy this money,” Carl said.
“Mmmm,” Anson said, grinning.
“What will you do with it, Carl?” Jeremy asked, stepping close to the mirror and admiring his masquerade handiwork.
“Spend it,” Carl said.
“On what?”
“Women.”
“He’s a ladies’ man,” Jeremy said to Anson.
“Damn right, I’m a ladies’ man. There isn’t anybody in the world who couldn’t be a ladies’ man with one-third of $500,000.”
“That’s a mean hunk of cabbage,” Anson said.
“I’m getting out of the country with my share,” Jeremy said. “Down to Mexico.”
“What the hell’re you gonna do there?” Anson wanted to know.
“He’ll open up a chain of houses.”
“The hell I am. I’ll just sit around in the sun and have myself a ball, that’s all. Nothing to do but soak up sun for the rest of my life.”
“I can’t go to Mexico,” Carl said.
“Why not?”
“I once cooled a Mexican cop. We were running some weed out of Tijuana, and he stepped in and began making noise.”
“There are other places besides Tijuana,” Anson said.
“Sure, but my face is in every police station in Mexico,” Carl said.
“I’ve got no worries there,” Jeremy said.
“Just so you stay out of Kansas City,” Anson said.
“I’m not wanted in Kansas City.”
“Not by the cops, no,” Anson said.
“You talking about Harry Kale?”
“Harry Kale is who I’m talking about.”
“Kale doesn’t bother me,” Jeremy said.
“No, huh?”
“No. He made up all that business. He invented all that statutory rape junk so he could get me out of K.C.”
“He did, huh? That sounds screwy, considering it brought the bulls down around his ears.”
“He made it all up.”
“Well, just stay clear of Kansas City, and you’re all right.”
“I’m not going anywhere near K.C.,” Jeremy said, “but not because Harry Kale scares me. He doesn’t scare me at all.”
“I once did a job for Harry,” Anson said. “In the old days, when we were still running booze. He pays well.”
“He doesn’t pay the way this job is going to pay,” Carl said.
“Nobody pays the way this job is going to pay.”
“You think we should run through it again?” Jeremy asked.
“Sure,” Anson said. “Once more before Carl leaves. We’ve still got a few minutes, haven’t we?”
They ran through the job again, committing it to their separate memories, and then they synchronized their watches with Anson’s, which had been set with the bank’s clock that morning.
At 1:50, Carl left the room.
The man behind the soda fountain did not recognize him, and he considered that a good omen. He had been secretly afraid that his disguise could be penetrated, but the man behind the counter hadn’t given him a second look. To complete the transition of character, and to completely disassociate himself from the Carl Semmer who’d sat at this same counter yesterday and ordered coffee, Carl ordered a cherry Coke. He paid for the Coke when he was served, eliminating any possible delay later when it would be time to leave for the car. He sat sipping his Coke and watching the driveway across the street.
At 2:02, the International Armored Car Corp. truck arrived. He watched the guards as they entered the rear door with the American Steel payroll. At 2:08, they entered the truck, backed it out of the driveway, and drove off. At 2:10, the second armored car appeared. They finished their delivery, and drove off at 2:16. Carl glanced at his watch, checking it against the time on the bank clock, and then relaxed.
“Let me have a newspaper,” he said to the man behind the counter.
The man gave him a paper, and Carl paid for it, and then began reading it, glancing across the street every few minutes. Not many people were going into the bank. That was good. Everything was running very smoothly. He was tempted to call Anson and Jeremy, tell them the loot was there, just waiting to be picked up, but he didn’t want to throw them into a panic. He bided his time instead, aware of the crawling hands of the clock. At 2:45, he knew Anson and Jeremy were leaving the room. Carl waited, folding his newspaper, sipping at his Coke.
At 2:57, he saw them coming down the street. He rose and walked to the plate-glass door, looking out.
“Hey, mister,” the man behind the counter said. Carl whirled.
“What?”
“You forgot your newspaper.”
“Thanks, you can keep it.”
He watched Anson and Jeremy as they walked past the A&P, past the bank driveway, up the flat steps leading to the entrance doors. The bank guard smiled as they entered the bank. The clock above the doors read 2:58. Everything was moving according to schedule. At 3:00 P.M., the guard closed the big bronze doors. Carl walked out of the shop, turned right, and headed for the parking lot and the waiting automobile.
“A holdup is in progress,” Jeremy said to the bank guard.