He patted the air with his free hand, as he sipped his coffee. “I
“They won’t take him as they see him go in?”
“Probably not.”
“
“With only two men at each site, we’d prefer to wait till our entire contingent has converged on the one correct theater.”
“Then what? Take him after he’s inside the dark theater?”
“Possibly. But only if there’s an open seat behind him and we could grab him from behind.”
I shook my head. “Not in this heat. There isn’t an empty seat in any air-cooled movie house in town, tonight.”
Cowley shrugged with his eyebrows. “Then we take him when he comes out.”
“Anna and Polly are with him?”
“The Sage woman and Miss Hamilton, yes.”
“Is Polly in on it?”
“We’ve been dealing with Mrs. Sage.”
“You mean Purvis has. You haven’t even met her.”
He scratched the side of his head, where it went from brown to gray. Didn’t look at me. “That’s right. But it’s not pertinent.”
“I think you should be very careful, if this does fall into place tonight. Particularly if you’re planning to let the East Chicago boys come along.
Stone-faced, Cowley just looked at me; then, slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
I said, “Zarkovich is at the Marbro, I know. The rest of them, where are they now?”
Sarcasm etched itself into the corners of his eyes. “In our conference room down the hall, with some of my men, having sandwiches. Why, is there somebody you’d like to talk to?”
“Your conference room,” I said, my aches and pains suddenly coming back to me. “They ought to be comfortable, there. Isn’t that where you guys do your own rubber-hose work, and hang guys out the window till they talk and such?”
Cowley didn’t like that. But he just said, “That’s not the way we do things. Maybe it’s different in East Chicago.”
“So I hear. Anyway, be careful tonight, if you decide to go to the movies. Because the Outfit may be providing you with a fall guy for the main feature.”
“A fall guy.”
“A patsy. A ringer.”
He made a dry disgusted
“Well, Purvis could. He has been before.”
“Don’t start again, Heller…”
I shrugged elaborately, and it only hurt a little. “Hey, it’s your job on the line, not mine. Just don’t forget that you’re following through on something put in motion by Dillinger’s
He swatted at the air with one thick hand, like my thoughts were flies. “That doesn’t mean anything. Piquett just double-crossed him, is all.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re falling in line with Piquett and doing Dillinger a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“Getting him declared dead.”
Cowley, not a man given to smirks, smirked. “And what does John Dillinger do, once he’s ‘dead’? Disappear in thin air?”
“With the accumulated loot from his various bank jobs, sure. He could buy a fucking island.”
Cowley winced at “fucking.” He just didn’t like that kind of language; I knew he didn’t—that’s why I said it. Anything, to light a match under his Mormon butt.
“You’re a good man, Cowley,” I said. “Don’t get taken in.”
“Your confidence in me is an inspiration, Heller.”
The phone on his desk jangled and he grabbed it, the weariness in his face replaced with urgency.
Then his face fell, while at the same time he sat erect, as he said crisply, “No, sir. No developments…yes sir, immediately, sir…yes, sir, I quite agree. We’d reached that conclusion ourselves…yes, sir.”
He hung up.
“Hoover?” I said.
Cowley nodded. “He’s been calling every few minutes. From his home in Washington, D.C. Pacing his library, I gather.”
“This is a make-or-break moment for you guys.”
“Yes, and Hoover knows it. He was just vetoing the notion of taking Dillinger within the theater, by the way. He wants no gunplay in a crowded auditorium.”
“It occurs to me this sudden possible switch from the Marbro to the Biograph is a trifle suspicious.”
“Oh, really,” he said, with flat, almost disinterested skepticism. “Why is that?”
“It allows you to plan for one theater all day, and then pulls the rug out from under you at the last minute…besides scattering your forces between the two locations.”
Cowley counted on his fingers, as if explaining to a child. “First of all, we’ll have time to converge on whichever theater it is, before we take him, and that includes the two men currently covering whichever theater proves to have been a false alarm. Second, your suspicions only hold true if they go to the second theater, the Biograph, because we’ve had ample opportunity to scout the Marbro.”
“What’s playing?”
That threw him. “What?”
“What pictures are playing?”
Cowley rolled his eyes. “I haven’t the foggiest.”
“You got a Sunday paper up here?”
