12 The Heckler by Ed McBain

Author:Ed McBain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9781477805732
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1960-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13.

THE FOUR MEN SAT on the hillside overlooking the ice-cream factory. The factory was surrounded by a cyclone fence and within that fence there were at least thirty white ice-cream trucks lined up in three identical rows. Two smokestacks jutted up into the April sky, and a huge sign straddled the stacks:

PICK-PAK ICE CREAM

The Big Lick on a Stick

The four men looked like a group of congenial buddies who had been out for a late afternoon stroll, who’d discovered this grassy hillock overlooking the ice-cream plant, and who’d decided to sit and rest their weary feet. There was certainly nothing sinister-looking about any of the men. If they’d showed up at Central Casting for parts in a grade-B gangster film, each and every one of them would have been turned down. And yet three of the four men had police records, and two of the men were, at that very moment, carrying guns. And even though their conversation was carried on in low and gentle tones, accompanied by sincere facial expressions, these men were discussing the future commission of a crime.

The deaf man was the tallest and handsomest of the four. He sat looking out over the rows of white trucks, a strand of grass between his teeth.

“That’s where we get it,” he said.

Chuck, sitting next to him, fished for a cigarette in the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a single cigarette while leaving the package inside the pocket. He took out a book of matches, lifted the cover, bent one match over from the rest so that it was close to the striking surface, closed the cover, and then struck the match, all with one hand, the match flaming but still attached to the folder.

“Plenty trucks,” he said, and he blew out a stream of smoke.

“We only need one, Chuck,” the deaf man said.

“That’s for sure. When do we grab it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“The day before, huh?”

“Thenight before,” the deaf man corrected.

“What time?”

“I figured along about midnight. Rafe’s been casing the lot for a week. Rafe, do you want to fill us in?”

Rafe adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, let out a sigh and ran a busy hand through his straw-blond hair. He seemed reluctant to speak. It almost seemed as if speaking pained him physically.

“There’s a simple padlock on the gate,” he said, his voice very low, as if he had learned at an early age that people who speak softly are generally listened to. “I can open it with a bobby pin.”

“He’s speaking figuratively,” the deaf man said. He grinned. “Aren’t you, Rafe?”

“Sure, not a bobby pin, but this is a snap, believe me. Also, there’s no watchman in the yard. So once we’re in, we’re in.”

“Are the ignition keys left in the trucks?” Chuck asked.

“No. We’ll have to cross the wires.”

“No possibility of getting duplicates made?”

“I don’t see how.”

“That might be worth thinking about,” Chuck said, turning to the deaf man. “I mean, we can’t keep the thing running all the time, can we? And if the law shows, who

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