“A hydraulic jack wouldn't do for the Vesper Club, I'm afraid,” remarked O'Connor wearily. “Why, sir, that place has been proved bomb-proof—bomb-proof, sir. You remember recently the so-called 'gamblers' war' in which some rivals exploded a bomb on the steps? It did more damage to the house next door than to the club. However, I can get past the outer door, I think, even if it is strong. But inside—you must have heard of it—is the famous steel door, three inches thick, made of armourplate. It's no use to try it at all unless we can pass that door with reasonable quickness. All the evidence we shall get will be of an innocent social club-room downstairs. The gambling is all on the second floor, beyond this door, in a room without a window in it. Surely you've heard of that famous gambling-room, with its perfect system of artificial ventilation and electric lighting that makes it rival noonday at midnight. And don't tell me I've got to get on the other side of the door by strategy, either. It is strategy-proof. The system of lookouts is perfect. No, force is necessary, but it must not be destructive of life or property—or, by heaven, I'd drive up there and riddle the place with a fourteen-inch gun,” exclaimed O'Connor.
“H'm!” mused Kennedy as he flicked the ashes off his cigar and meditatively watched a passing freight-train on the railroad below us. “There goes a car loaded with tons and tons of scrap iron. You want me to scrap that three-inch steel door, do you?”
“Kennedy, I'll buy that particular scrap from you at almost its weight in gold. The fact is, I have a secret fund at my disposal such as former commissioners have asked for in vain. I can afford to pay you well, as well as any private client, and I hear you have had some good fees lately. Only deliver the goods.”
“No,” answered Kennedy, rather piqued, “it isn't money that I am after. I merely wanted to be sure that you are in earnest. I can get you past that door as if it were made of green baize.”
It was O'Connor's turn to look incredulous, but as Kennedy apparently meant exactly what he said, he simply asked, “And will you?”
“I will do it to-night if you say so,” replied Kennedy quietly. “Are you ready?”
For answer O'Connor simply grasped Craig's hand, as if to seal the compact.
“All right, then,” continued Kennedy. “Send a furniture-van, one of those closed vans that the storage warehouses use, up to my laboratory any time before seven o'clock. How many men will you need in the raid? Twelve? Will a van hold that many comfortably? I'll want to put some apparatus in it, but that won't take much room.”
“Why, yes, I think so,” answered O'Connor. “I'll get a well-padded van so that they won't be badly jolted by the ride down-town. By George! Kennedy, I see you know more of that side of police strategy than I gave you credit for.”
“Then have the men drop into my laboratory singly about the same time. You can arrange that so that it will not look suspicious, so far uptown. It will be dark, anyhow. Perhaps, O'Connor, you can make up as the driver yourself—anyhow, get one you can trust absolutely. Then have the van down near the corner of Broadway below the club, driving slowly along about the time the theatre crowd is out. Leave the rest to me. I will give you or the driver orders when the time comes.”