Fred Barker paused mid-chicken to grin, gold teeth flashing. “Hung over, huh?”
Floyd smiled; he had sauce all over his lips and teeth. “Way over.”
Doc said, “Is he going to be up for it?”
“Sure,” Floyd said, matter-of-factly.
“I never worked with the guy.”
“I have,” Floyd said. Friendly but with a hard edge.
“I never even heard of him.”
Floyd put the chicken down. “I don’t work with just anybody, Doc.”
“I never said you did, Chock.”
Nelson, working on a bite of baked beans, said, “Yeah, why isn’t your pal Richetti in on this one? I thought he was your right-hand man.”
“He’s on the mend. Caught a bullet while back.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Nelson said. “Suppose he’s holed up in the Cookson Hills, huh?”
Floyd shook his head no. “We been havin’ to avoid the hills. Ever since the feds and the state militia did that sweep through there February last, we been stayin’ out.”
Karpis, who was sharing half a chicken with Dolores, said, “I heard they only nailed a dozen or so crooks, all of ’em small-timers, with that search party.” Small laugh. “A thousand men combing the hills for small change.”
Floyd nodded. “Still, with the governor willin’ to turn up the heat that high, we been keeping out of there. We been holing up ’round Toledo way.”
Doc said, “Licavoli mob’s helping you out, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” Floyd said. “For a price.”
Doc sighed, nodded. “Yeah. This ol’ life ain’t cheap, is it?”
“Life’s cheap enough,” Floyd said. “It’s livin’ that gets expensive.”
Louise, who was an even daintier eater than John Paul Chase (she was the only one at the table cutting the meat off the chicken with her knife and fork, instead of just using her hands — her daddy must’ve beat some manners in her), had finished her meal and was starting to complain of getting eaten up by mosquitoes. The sun was going down and the bugs were coming out.
Floyd stood. “You nice gals can clear the table, if you would, and get in away from the skeeters. Us men got work to do.”
Karpis wiped his face and hands with a napkin and stood as well. “Yes we do. Let’s go down to my cabin.”
The men went down to his cabin.
37
Karpis’ cabin was identical to ours, except with the beds on the opposite side of the room. In addition he’d had some folding chairs brought in. Everybody found chairs or sat on the edge of one of the beds, which was where I ended up, over to the far left, by the wall, facing Karpis, who, looking more and more like a schoolteacher, stood by the facing wall where he’d tacked a big homemade grease-pencil map of the Chicago Loop.
Floyd was the last to come in, with his hungover partner Sullivan in tow, the little-man-who-wasn’t-there at dinner, an average-looking guy in a dark suit, wearing sunglasses and a fedora, despite being indoors. They took seats across the room, near the door, where I couldn’t quite see ’em.
It was a little warm, a little stuffy in the room, with all these men crowded in, most of them smoking; no cigars in the crowd, at least. There was a breeze tonight, coming in the half-open windows, and it was appreciated. Most of the men were in shirt sleeves; I wore the lightweight white suit, gun tucked under my arm. If I was going to play in the World Series of crime, I figured I ought to have my bat along.
Karpis, in a white shirt buttoned to the neck and baggy brown pants, stood with folded arms, slouching a little. He was, like me, wearing his window-glass wire-rims. “I guess everybody knows our objective.”
Nelson laughed, but bitterly. “We’re going to snatch the big fed. The loud-mouth son of a bitch who calls us yellow rats from behind a goddamn desk. We’re going to snatch him, haul in the big dough, and then fuckin’ kill him.”
“No,” Karpis said, pointing a finger at Nelson like a kid in his class. “We don’t kill him.”
“Why?” Nelson said. It was almost a whine.
“Because,” Karpis said, “he’s more trouble to us dead. Better we embarrass and disgrace and humiliate the bastard, and then cut him loose, than have him be a dead hero for the feds and press to rally ’round.”
From across the smoky room came Floyd’s voice. “I agree. The son of a bitch likes to call us ‘vile’ and ‘vicious’ and ‘mad dogs’ and that. Kill him and we make him look right.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Nelson said evenly.
Floyd said, “That’s just handin’ Hoover’s attorney general boss more ammunition against us. Then he just sticks another son of a bitch in Hoover’s chair, and what’s to gain? The days ahead is gonna be hot enough.”
Karpis took over. “George, listen. Sure, picking Hoover for our mark comes partly out of wanting to even scores with the son of a bitch. Make him look bad, make him look stupid, put him on the spot. Of course. But the real point of this, the main point, is to grab a public figure so important the government’ll cough up some real dough to get him back. The fact it also makes the feds look sick is just frosting on the cake.”
Doc Barker was sitting next to me; he seemed impatient as he said, “Quit chasing your tails, fellas. I ain’t convinced yet this is even gonna come off. I’m not in unless somebody can show me how this fool thing can really work.”
Fred Barker nodded, said, “Yeah. Yeah, me too!”
Karpis said, “That’s why we’re here, Doc.”
Doc said, “From what you told me before, I take it you’re planning to snatch Hoover right on the street, right in front of the feds’ own office building.”
Jesus.
“Last time we tried something in the Loop we damn near got our asses shot off,” Barker was saying.
“That’s not fair, Doc,” Karpis said. “If we hadn’t got in that accident, we’d been in the clear.”
“Bullshit. You got in a accident ’cause of traffic, and then them cops swarmed on us like flies on shit.”
“The basic plan was sound, Doc. We can make it work this time.”
“You’re going to use the same plan as for the post-office heist?”
Karpis smiled a mildly embarrassed version of his ghastly smile. “Well, yes, sort of, as a stepping-off point anyway — the Banker’s Building is right across from the post office, where we made the other hit. Direct across. We can build on that same plan, and learn from our mistakes.”
Doc was shaking his head. “Learn from our mistakes? What you should learn from that post-office flop is not to pull jobs in the Loop. City jobs are a bitch in general. Now, in the country, shit, you can hit a place, drive like hell, know your back roads and you’re home free. But in the city, fuck.”
Karpis was getting worried. “Come on, Doc, keep an open mind...”
“You got traffic to deal with, cops on every block, one call and the word’s out to hundreds of radio cars... shit. And a plan that went bust one other time. Creepy, I’m surprised at you.”
Nelson said, “Doc, you knew what this was about coming in — why bitch now?”
Doc said, “I’m all for snatching Hoover. Its a sweet way to get even and get rich. Understood? But why not snatch him at the track — he likes the ponies, you know — or at the train station, when he comes to town, or leaves.”
Karpis said, “Those are city jobs, too, Doc.”
“Yeah, sure, but they’re easier to deal with than the goddamn heart o’ the Loop. Don’t forget — I was there, on that post-office heist. I saw the fuckin’ bullets fly.”