Moe charged back into the room.
“Come on! Let’s go! We’ve exactly half an hour to get there, do the job and get away, and the goddamn joint’s the other side of the town.”
Pete picked up a bundle of magazines, checked to make sure the three-inch, razor-sharp ice-pick was in its sheath under his coat, and followed Moe at a run down the dirty rickety stairs and out to the ancient Packard parked at the kerb.
Although it looked old, the Packard’s engine was almost as good as new under Moe’s skilful handling, and the car shot away from the kerb with a burst of speed that always surprised Pete.
“Here’s what we do,” Moe said, talking out of the side of his mouth. “I stay wid the heep and keep the engine running. Yuh ring the bell. If she comes to the door, give her the spiel about the magazines, and get her to invite yuh in. If someone else comes to the door, ask for her: Miss Coleman, see? Get her alone. Make out yer coy or something, see? Then give it to her. Hit her hard, and she won’t squeal. Then beat it. Use yer rod if yuh have to. Get back in the heep. We beat it to Wilcox an’ 14th Street and ditch the heep. Dutch’ll pick us up and take us to the club. We take a speed-boat to Reid Key an’ an airplane to Cuba.”
“Okay,” Pete said irritably. “I know all that by heart.”
“Yeah, so do I, but it don’t hurt to run over it again. The worse spot’ll be getting to the club. If we get there, it’s a cinch. Cuba! Gee! Yuh ever been to Cuba? I seen pictures of the dump. Terrific! And the women… !” He pursed his thin mouth and gave a shrill whistle. “Brother! Just wait until I get among those brown-skinned honies!”
Pete didn’t say anything. He was scarcely listening. He was thinking that he was at last approaching the climax of his life. For months now he had thought about this moment: the moment when he would take a life; when he would inflict on someone something worse than had been inflicted on him, and he felt the cold knot tighten inside him.
“This is it,” Moe said after five minutes’ driving. “Lennox Avenue. She’s staying with some frill called Bunty Boyd. I dunno wad yuh do about her. Hit her too if yuh have to.” He slowed down to a crawl and drove the car past a long row of four-storey houses. “There it is, across the way.” He swung the car across the road and pulled up. That’s the one; three houses up. I’ll wait here. I’ll have the heep movin’ towards yuh as yuh come out.”
Pete picked up his bundle of magazines, opened the car door and got out. He had a sick feeling inside him, and his hands felt like ice.