That’s okay, Planner thought. He had almost forgotten, but now he fully remembered that the safe was the best place in the world to lead them. Because the twin of that.32 automatic was in the safe. Tucked behind the piles of money. Waiting.
“Okay,” Planner said, tugging on the string on this room’s overhead light. This room, too, was full of crates and boxes, as well as some old chairs and tables in need of repair. There was a small work area in one corner where Planner did his own mending. In the other corner was the big old gray metal safe. So old the name of the company was worn off. A good man could open it up in ten minutes. Planner had never bought a newer, more burglarproof (ha!) safe because it seemed foolish — after all, the only people who knew that he kept goodly amounts of cash in the safe were his friends, and he had the kind of friends who could open
“Open it,” the older man said. The younger man was standing behind him with the empty cardboard box in his arms, the silenced automatic peeking around one side of it.
That was just what Planner wanted to do. He wanted to open that safe and bring his hand out shooting that.32. But he didn’t want to be obvious.
So he said, “No.”
The older man slapped him across the face with the silenced gun again and Planner’s upper plate flew out onto the floor. The floor was all dusty and dirty and now so was his plate. He wished Jon had cleaned this room up yesterday, as he was supposed to. Feeling silly with only half his teeth in his head, he said, “You lousy son of a bitch, put that gun away and I could whale the crap out of you.”
The older man hit him again, in the stomach this time, and Planner lay down on the floor. It didn’t hurt all that bad, but he figured if he acted as if it did, maybe the guy would stop hitting him. He shouldn’t have got mad at the guy and sworn at him like that. That was stupid. He looked up and said, “Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“A friend of a friend,” the older man said. “Now open that goddamn safe.”
“What made you want to rob me for? I’m just an old feller trying to make a buck. There’s nothing in there worth taking. Oh, sure, I keep a few of my prize heirlooms in there. I’ll admit it. They’re worth some money, sure, but they mainly just make an old man happy in his last days.”
“Cut the crap,” the older man said, kicking Planner in the side. “Open the goddamn safe, I said. You can keep the heirlooms, you goddamn old buzzard, and we’ll take the money.”
Planner just looked at him.
“That’s right,” the older man said. “There’s a lot of goddamn money in that safe, isn’t there? You know it and I know it. Forget about pretending and open it.”
“Nolan will come after you,” Planner said. “I feel sorry for you bastards when Nolan comes after you.”
Something funny glittered in the older man’s eyes. He kicked Planner again and said, “Open it. Open it.”
Planner got to his feet, said, “All right, okay,” and dialed the combination lock. The latch creaked as he opened the heavy door, which swung out on its hinges to reveal six shelves, lined with stacked green.
“Jesus,” the younger man said, awestruck. It was the first word he’d uttered since coming into the store.
The older man said nothing. He just smiled, a grim, tight sort of smile, and nodded his head.
Planner said, “Toss that box over here and I’ll help you load it up, damn it,” and reached into the safe. He felt behind the stacks of money on the middle shelf, found the cold metallic surface of the automatic. He wrapped his fingers around the gun and swung his arm out, firing. Money scattered as his arm knocked stacks from the shelf, and the contact with the stacks of cash were probably what threw his aim off. The bullet splintered into the gray wood behind the older man, between him and the boy, and Planner knew he was in trouble.
He tried to drop to the floor, so he could roll and keep firing, but the room was too small, and he was too old and too slow. He was moving when he got hit by the first shot, which he didn’t even hear. He was motionless when the silenced automatic snicked and the second bullet caught him in the stomach, two small bubbling holes in his gut, and the back of him felt wet, and he felt warm, he felt hot, he felt afire, and he went to sleep.
A bell was ringing. Distant. He woke up. The older man and the younger man were on their haunches, packing the money into the big cardboard box. The box was just big enough to take all of the money. The older man said, “We can lay newspaper over the top of it, and stuff it down so we don’t go dropping money behind us. That’d be a hell of a goddamn trail to leave.” Planner’s stomach felt warm. His hand felt cold. No, something in his hand. The gun! They hadn’t taken the gun away from him. The gun!
