just bring my insurance policy into the house with me if you don’t mind.’ Dillinger went back to the Ford. Doc watched him bring in the machine guns as if death was being carried into the house under both of Johnny’s arms.
And then the rains came, a heavy relentless downpour that churned the yard to mud as Dillinger sat on the porch, drinking Doc’s coffee and cleaning his tommy guns to perfection. The old man’s plaint was getting to him, making his eyelid tic.
‘Three thousand lousy bucks by next Monday,’ Doc was saying, ‘or they take over – even the furniture.’
‘Can’t you sell some of your land off and settle up your debt to the bank?’ Dillinger asked.
‘Not possible,’ Doc said. ‘Not under the terms of the mortgage. And there isn’t enough time. That bastard George Harvey is collecting as many small farms as he can and hoarding them for resale when times get better.’
The old man poured another drink. ‘Anyway, enough about me. What about you? That break from Lake View prison the other month must have been really something, wasn’t it, Johnny?’
‘For them, not for me,’ Dillinger said. ‘It was a breeze.’
‘You’re really number one, Johnny,’ Doc said. ‘I’ve known them all one time or t’other. None like you. I heard you was in California. The radio said you robbed a bank in Los Angeles last week.’
‘Sure wish I did. I heard I was in Houston and New Orleans doing the same thing on the same day. It’s OK with me. Just keeps the cops confused. What about your wife, Doc, she leave you on account of your drinking, the way she always swore she would?’
‘She left me all right, Johnny. Died last year. Top of that, my girl Carrie, who married a guy from Miami, well he got himself killed asleep at the wheel last year, and Carrie took the baby with her to the Florida Keys. She runs a café down there.’
‘Why don’t you join her?’
‘I couldn’t do that to her. I’d just be a burden. A dried-up old man with no money.’
Dillinger said, ‘I remember when this was the best hideout in Kansas. A man could get anything here. A night’s sleep, a change of car.’
Doc chuckled. ‘Remember the night I took that bullet out of your arm after the Fort Harris job?’
Dillinger smiled faintly. ‘You were a pretty damn good doctor for a country vet.’
‘Oh, I had my moments.’ He poured another whisky, ‘It’s funny, Johnny, but when you reach my age, you get to thinking what it’s all supposed to be about.’
‘Any answers?’
‘Oh, sure – three thousand dollars, that’s what my whole life adds up to, only I ain’t got it which means my life adds up to nothing. That’s a hell of a thing to contemplate.’
Dillinger sat there staring at him for a moment, then he stood up, picked up the old man’s yellow oilskin slicker, pulled it on and went down the steps to the Ford.
‘Where you going in the rain, you damn fool?’ Doc yelled after him.
When Dillinger came back, he was carrying a small case which he carried inside and placed on the table. He opened it carefully. Inside, there was a stack of money, each bundle neatly banded in a bank wrapper.
The old man’s eyes widened.
‘Fifteen grand there, all I have to show for a misspent life,’ Dillinger smiled. ‘Keep it for me. If I don’t come back, use it any way you see fit.’
‘No, Johnny, I couldn’t,’ Doc whispered. ‘God, where are you going?’ the old man demanded.
‘To see a man about a bank loan,’ Dillinger said, his back to the old man as he went down the steps to the Ford, got behind the wheel, and drove away.
George Harvey glanced at his watch. It was just after 2.30 and it occurred to him that an early finish might make sense today. The relentless rain which had cleared the streets of Huntsville outside hammered ceaselessly against the window of his office and filled him with acute depression. He was about to get up, when the door opened and Marion, his secretary, looked in.
‘Someone to see you.’
Harvey showed his irritation. ‘I don’t have any appointments.’
‘No, he knows that. A Mr Jackson of the Chicago and District Land Company. Says he’s only in town by chance and wonders if you could spare him a few minutes.’
‘Does he look like money?’
‘I’d say so.’
‘OK. Bring him in, give it five minutes and then come in to remind me I’ve got another appointment.’
She went out and returned a moment later to usher Dillinger in. He held the yellow slicker over one arm and Marion took it from him.
‘I’ll hang it up for you.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
She felt an unaccountable thrill as she went out, closing the door behind her, and Dillinger turned to face Harvey,
‘It’s good of you to see me, Mr Harvey.’
Harvey took in the excellent suit, the con-servative tie, the soft-collared shirt in the very latest style, and got to his feet.
‘That’s what we’re here for, Mr Jackson. Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you. You’re in the property business?’
‘That’s right. Chicago District Land Company. We’re in the market for farm properties in this area – suitable farm properties. Our clients, the people we represent in this instance, intend to farm in a much more modern way. To make that pay, they need lots of acreage. Know what I mean?’
‘Exactly,’ Harvey said, opened a box on his desk and offered him a cigar. ‘I think you’ll find you’ve come to the right place, Mr Jackson.’
‘Good.’ Dillinger took the cigar and leaned forward for a light. Harvey frowned. ‘You know, I could swear I’ve met you some place before.’
‘That could be,’ Dillinger said. ‘I get around. But let’s get down to business. I need a bank down here.’
‘No problem.’
‘Good, then I’d like to make a withdrawal now.’
‘A withdrawal?’ Harvey looked bewildered. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Yes,’ Dillinger said. ‘Twelve thousand dollars should do it, what with my expenses and all.’
‘But, Mr Jackson, you can’t make a withdrawal when you haven’t put anything in yet,’ Harvey explained patiently.
‘Oh, yes I can.’ Dillinger took a Colt .45 automatic from his pocket and placed it on the table between them.
