Preacher shut the door. "What's happening, baby?" he yelled. "I was beginning to wonder if you was going to show up."
Prince smiled at the remark. "I started not to show up, man, but the thought of all that cash being left alone if I didn't forced me to get off my ass and come on over." He examined the other men. "Hawk, you look like you might be a little nervous." Prince grinned, taking the sting out of his words. "And you, too, Bossgame," he said.
Bossgame grinned in return. He was tall, with a golden brown complexion. His extreme thinness had once earned him the nickname of "the Shadow," but his success at playing on people had caused his associates to call him "Bossgame."
"What about Eddie, Prince? You don't think he's a monument of pure nerve, do you?"
"I ain't shittin' on myself!" Eddie exclaimed loudly, his words bringing a roar of laughter from the men. Eddie was the youngest man in the room, just eighteen, but he had spent six years in reform schools, so he was considered reliable.
Prince stared at the young, brown-skinned man. Out of all the men in the room, Eddie was his main concern. He didn't want him to do anything that would bring more heat down on them than was necessary. Eddie was a good man, he believed, but he might do something that was uncalled for. He glanced over at the two brothers, Ronald and Donald. He wasn't worried about them. They were seasoned stickup men. Both had been to prison, so it wouldn't be anything new if they got busted. They were both nervous, since they were used to working only with each other. If it hadn't been for Prince, neither man would have been there, but since he was jeopardizing his own freedom, they had decided to go along.
Prince wasn't fooling himself. He knew if something went wrong, he was as vulnerable as the rest of them, even though he wouldn't be on the scene. "Preacher," he said suddenly, "I want you to use Eddie as the getaway driver." He wasn't going to take a chance on having blood spilled without cause. He could see the effect his words had on the other men. They seemed to relax a bit.
"Fuck that shit, Prince," Eddie said angrily. "I ain't no goddamn driver and you know it. I ain't never drove no fuckin' car in my life."
"Listen, punk," Prince said coldly as he grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders, "I got too much riding on this job to have some trigger-happy punk spoil it. I know it wouldn't take much for you to shoot somebody, so I ain't takin' no chances. If you don't like the idea of keepin' the motor running until they come out, you're out of the job. It's as simple as that. Either you go for it or you don't."
"Why me, Prince?" Eddie cried. "I can handle any part of this job as good as any of these guys, man." He was brokenhearted at being left out of the heavy part of the stickup.
"That's the reason right there," Prince said. "Any of these other guys would be glad to be sitting in the car and getting the same split, but you, you're looking forward to the job with just too goddamn much joy, Eddie. I can't take the chance, man. If trouble should come up, you just might shoot before you thought about it, baby."
"Shit!" Eddie cursed loudly and kicked the couch. A large rat ran out from under the couch, saw the men in the middle of the floor, hesitated, then scurried along the edge of the wall until he disappeared behind a large chair.
Prince stared with horror at the spot where the rat had disappeared. Ever since an incident in his early childhood, the sight of a rat paralyzed him with fear. He remembered how he had awakened one night when he was a child to find a large, red-eyed rodent on his bed. The rat had bitten him through the sheet on his leg. His screams had brought his grandmother hurrying into the room. Now, the fear was there again, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer, sweat soaking his shirt.
"Put that gun up," Preacher ordered sharply. Eddie had his pistol out and was trying to get a shot under the chair.
Donald came out of the kitchen carrying a broom. "Pull the chair out, I'll kill the bastard," he yelled, waving the broom.
Ronald, a younger replica of his brother, came out of the kitchen carrying a heavy skillet and a large steel pot. His cold black eyes glistened eagerly as he pranced around the chair, waiting for the rat to attempt his escape. Donald grinned as he held his broom ready.
Prince scrambled on top of a wooden chair, unconcerned about what the other men might think. They all knew that the only thing in life he feared was rats.
"Hey, man, I see you takin' care of business," Hawk yelled from atop the back of the couch. He flashed a friendly grin at Prince. "It ain't that I'm afraid of rats," he said. "It's just that I don't believe in taking any unnecessary chances. Let the big game hunters run that sonofabitch down."
Eddie was bent over double laughing. Now and then he would manage to point his finger in the direction of the two men on top of the chair and couch.
Prince gritted his teeth, fighting back his anger. "Fuck all this laughing. If ya goin' kill the goddamn thing, get it over with."
The rat made the decision for them. He darted out from behind the chair. Ronald had been watching for just this chance. He threw the skillet and caught the rat across the back. Before the rat could regain his balance, Donald was on him, beating him with the broom.
"Let me at him," Ronald yelled, brandishing the pot. He tried to dance around his brother so he could get in a good blow.
"The bastard's back is broke," Donald said, stepping back from the rat. Ronald picked up the skillet and quickly finished the job.
"Wrap that rat up in some newspaper and toss it out the back window," Preacher ordered. "You wash that fuckin' skillet off good, Ronald. No telling what kind of goddamn germs you done picked up on it."
Prince climbed down off his chair. He rolled a stick of reefer from the package Preacher tossed him, then waited until things returned to normal. When the two brothers returned from disposing of their burden, Prince tossed them a stick of reefer apiece. He waited until they had settled down, then began. "After I leave, Preacher will tell each one of you what position you'll handle on the job. What I want to get across to each of you is the importance of the disguises you will wear." He gestured towards the two brothers. "I want both of you to shave off those heavy mustaches you wear." He raised his hand for silence when they started to protest. "What's more important, wearing a goddamn mustache or getting away from a robbery with plenty of cash and no witnesses that can identify you?" Prince waited until they nodded their heads in agreement. "Okay then, after you shave your mustaches off, Preacher will give you some shit that will make you jet black." He stared at the two light brown-skinned men. "You shouldn't have any problem gettin' away with it. Once white folks see a black man, they won't think of anything else."
"What about me?" Hawk asked curiously. "Ain't no way to make me white, is there?" He grinned. "If I get any more darker, man, I'll be able to pass for an ink spot."
"We got a old man's wig with gray hair in it for you, Hawk. That plus a beard should help you get past the people." Prince grinned at Preacher. "Brother Preacher is going to pass as a lady, with a pretty red wig." He smiled as the men made a few lewd remarks.
"You goin' need any help puttin' your panties on, Preacher?" Hawk asked, then laughed uproariously at his own wit. Preacher just grinned at them, then walked Prince to the door.
"Make sure you're on the case at three forty-five, Preacher," Prince instructed him. "Everything is going to go off like clockwork. When you finish and change cars, head towards the hideout. I'll get in touch with you out there."
When Prince reached the car, it was surrounded by teenage boys. Ruby had the window down and was giving them a tongue-lashing. One or two of the boys recognized Prince and stepped back out of his way. Ruby moved from the passenger side of the seat to behind the steering wheel as Prince got in.
"I see you got a lot of admiring young boys on this block," he said. "Maybe I better start watching you from now on whenever we come this way."
She laughed lightly as she started the car. "Them kids are something else." Ruby glanced at her watch. "Where to from here, daddy?"
"Time's gettin' real sho
rt, woman. I think we better go somewhere and establish us an airtight alibi, because after this shit jumps off we're going to be very important people in the police department's eyesight."
"It seems as though you might just have a point there, honey. Where do you suggest we go?"
Prince studied the problem for a minute. "I believe the best place in the world for us right now, baby, is down to the police station with our lawyer. Maybe we might even be able to spring Little Larry while we're killing time."
In Hamtramck, the Polish shoppers were staring around in wonder. Their neighborhood was being invaded by Negroes of every size and shape. Carload after carload of young blacks parked, and the men and women inside jumped out to surround the A&P supermarket. Traffic was congested because of the curious drivers slowing down to look at the pickets. Police cars arrived but had to park back from the crowd because there was no space for them to get closer. The clerks in the market glanced nervously out the win dow at the milling crowd.
Chinaman and Blanca moved through the crowd, keeping down any unnecessary disturbance. As soon as they left a spot, though, it was filled with agitators. The agitators moved through the crowd building up tension. Wherever they found police, they concentrated on that spot. The police, already short-tempered, were easily aroused to anger. Shouts of "white pigs" filled the air. The police moved through the crowd roughly, pushing people aside, swinging their clubs at any who hesitated. The only thing that held them in check was their small number. They waited impatiently for reinforcements to come from neighboring precincts.
The signal came from one of the agitators: "Now! Now! Now!" The shout filled the air. The few policemen caught in the midst of the crowd were turned on with a fury they had never seen before. It was beyond their understanding to find themselves faced with black people who were fighting back. They were so accustomed to cracking heads without fear of being turned on that, now that it was happening, they were frozen with fear. It was a different matter when you swung your club at a head to find that head trying to take the club from you. The people in the crowd who had no knowledge of what was happening only saw that the police were trying to break up their peaceful demonstration. When they saw a black woman fall under the feet of two white policemen, they moved in a body towards the officers. As more police began to arrive, the agitators began to throw rocks. The rocks broke windows, angered the police, and turned the street into a riot. The fighting was now going on up and down the street. Black officers and white stood shoulder to shoulder trying to turn the tide. Store windows were broken, fire bombs were tossed indiscriminately. The street became a nightmare of chaos as people tried to escape from the police retaliation.
Chinaman kept his arm around Blanca as he fought his way out of the crowd. He pushed her into a small dress shop. The woman proprietor stared at them as though they were animals. He glanced back over his shoulder at the riot and shivered. He couldn't understand what had happened. All he could think of was that it was the policemen's fault. His anger almost overcame his reason as he turned around and stared at the woman. "I ain't goin' ask you but once, woman," he snapped. "Which is the quickest way out of here? I'm talking about the back way, too."
She stared at him with fear. Before she could answer, the door opened and two more black men came in, pushing their women in front of them. One of the women was holding a hankie to her bleeding nose.
"We ain't got time for games, bitch!" Chinaman yelled at the woman. She trembled at the sound of his voice, and managed to point towards the rear of the store.
"What about a key? Do we need a key to get out?" Chinaman asked. Before the woman could answer, one of the men snatched her arm and pushed her towards the rear. When they reached the back door, one of the men rushed past her and opened the lock himself.
The door opened onto the alley. As the small group stepped out, a police car rushed past. The group broke and ran up the next nearest alley. The only thing they could think about was escape. Behind them the street was filled with struggling figures. Black men tried to build a protecting wall around their women as they fought their way down the street. Time and time again police broke through the wall of men who fought courageously with fists and feet against pistols and billy clubs.
Fatdaddy and his group finished loading up the guns in the panel truck. When he returned for his last trip into the gun shop, he examined the ropes that the owner was tied with. He loosened them slightly so the man wouldn't have much difficulty getting free. His wife's bonds were still tight, but Fatdaddy ignored them, surrendering to his greed and tapping the cash register on the way out of the store.
Before the small truck had gotten out of the neighborhood, the proprietor of the gun shop had gotten loose and made a hurried call to the police station before even bothering to untie his wife.
The desk sergeant took the call and immediately went into action. Since all of his cars were at the riot, he had to make an emergency call for cars to take care of the robbery. His call was answered immediately by four cars that were needed in the riot.
When Preacher and his men reached the bank two miles from the gun shop, there wasn't a police car within a mile of the bank. They entered it quickly. Before the people inside knew what was happening, they were covered by the men with the guns. The bank guard had been caught completely off guard. Hawk removed his gun and ordered him to stand still.
Donald and Ronald moved behind the cage windows and took all the cash from the cash drawers. Preacher pushed the bank manager towards the halfopened vault. In less than three minutes he was back carrying an army duffel bag half full of money. Hawk climbed on top of a counter and ripped out the movie camera that had been working all the while they were in the bank. Each man wore a pair of thin gloves and dark sunglasses. Preacher caught the camera as Hawk tossed it down, stuffed it inside the bag on top of the money without ever taking his eyes off the customers. With the help of Donald, Preacher made the customers lie down beside the cashiers. The guard was clubbed to his knees by Hawk as the men prepared to leave. Ronald had already left for the car when the rest of the men followed, walking quickly from the bank, not running, afraid they might draw attention if anyone should see them. Eddie was sitting under the wheel when they reached the car.
The men jumped in, Preacher taking the front seat beside the driver. He took off the wig he had been wearing and kicked off the women's shoes as the car leaped away from the curb.
"Take it easy," he cautioned Eddie. "We got everything going in our favor, so just be cool. It couldn't have been no sweeter if Prince had been in charge," he gloated happily.
The other men began to relax now that the ordeal was over. The tension was beginning to disappear. Ronald and Donald began to wipe the makeup off their faces, while Hawk came out of his wig and beard. Ronald took another wipe at his face with the wet rag Eddie had given him.
"Am I got most of this shit off?" he asked loudly.
"Don't worry about it," Preacher said. "In another block we're going to start changing cars, so you'll have plenty of time to take all your war paint off."
"Man, oh man," Eddie exclaimed excitedly. "Is all that cash really unmarked?"
"We ain't got nothing but the smaller bills. All that big shit we would have had trouble gettin' rid of we left alone," Preacher answered.
"Ronald," he added a moment later, "that Buick up there, that's the first car you guys change in." He glanced over his shoulder. "Hawk, you stay with me. The rest of you take that piece and head for the hideout. We'll be there in a few minutes, as soon as we reach the other car."
15
THE OFFICE OF CAPTAIN Mahoney was a scene of bedlam. The detectives were in an uproar. Reports on what had happened that afternoon were still coming in.
"Damn it, Morales," Lieutenant Gazier swore. "If we release that punk, this whole city will blow up in our faces."
Lieutenant Morales ignored his partner and spoke to the other two men in the office. "Gentlemen, I have to disagree with you. I believe that
the killing of that homosexual last week is definitely tied up with the other killings that have plagued the city lately."
"Lieutenant Morales," one of the Federal men began. "You have misunderstood us. We will definitely give you all the cooperation we possibly can, but under the circumstances, my partner and I will have to concentrate on the apprehension of the men who held up that bank today." He glanced at his partner, then continued. "I for one can't see offhand how this would tie in with the rest of your problems. It's possible, true, but I just don't believe that any young group in the city would, or could, control what happened out there today."
Captain Mahoney stood up behind his desk, a piece of paper in his hand. "I don't know, Morales, if you are correct or not, but from my report, Roman was followed to the airport this morning, where he and his woman boarded a plane for Chicago." He held up his hand so he wouldn't be interrupted. "The same man that followed him out there followed Prince and his woman back to the city. Now, in regards to Prince, he was downstairs all afternoon working on the release of Larry with his lawyer. So whatever happened this afternoon, he had an airtight alibi. Since Roman was probably still in Chicago, he has an airtight alibi, too. Now, as far as I'm concerned, that's the two big men in this gang, and it's just a little beyond my imagination to believe they wouldn't be needed on an operation like the one that went off today."
Morales tilted his chair back. "Well, there is one thing you can't ignore. That's facts. Just plain, ordinary facts. First, what most of you fail to realize is that the organization that caused that riot is the brainchild of no other than our boy, Prince. Now, the rest of this crap that happened, you can take from there. The gun shop was hit at just the right time. When the only available police cars in the vicinity answered the call, the bank was hit."