“OF COURSE,” CHIN WAS saying, “We’ll have to play it by ear. But we should have a plan, a best-case scenario. I’ve often found that very helpful.”
Fabrese scowled. “Meaning?”
“Let’s decide what we want to have happen tonight.”
Still seated in Chin’s Buick, Fabrese shifted restlessly, looked at his watch. The time was almost six o’clock; dusk was about to fall. Downtown San Francisco was settling in for a quiet evening. The Sunday afternoon strollers were returning home, the theaters were still closed, and the restaurants had not yet begun to fill.
“Jesus Christ. What’ve we been talking about for an hour?”
Ignoring the other man’s outburst, plainly a product of nerves, Chin began again: “I will go with you. Only me. We will use this car, which is in perfect condition. However, we must allow time to fill the tank. Then we will go to my home. You will stay in the car. I’ll go upstairs and change clothes. I will wear running shoes, jeans, a dark jacket, and a black stocking cap—the costume, in fact, of the midnight prowler.” As he spoke, Chin glanced at Fabrese’s impeccably cut blue blazer, gray flannel trousers, gleaming white shirt, striped tie, and tasseled loafers. “If you like,” Chin said, “there is probably still time to stop by an army surplus store, for you.”
Impatiently, Fabrese brushed the suggestion aside. “Never mind about me.”
“If digging is involved,” Chin said, “which there clearly is, and if you should get dirty, and then you return to your hotel, you would be conspicuous.” Once more, driving the Buick with one hand, Chin consulted his watch. “We have time. And a surplus store is on the way.”
As spiteful as a spoiled child, Fabrese shrugged. “Whatever.”
“So,” Chin said, continuing, “I’ll go upstairs, as I was saying, and I’ll change—while you stay in the car. In a few minutes, I’ll join you. I’ll have a Colt .45 automatic in a shoulder holster under my jacket, and I’ll have three extra clips of ammunition. I’ll be carrying a nylon duffel bag, like athletes carry. I’ll have an M-Sixteen rifle in the bag, along with flashlights. The rifle will be broken down, and I’ll have three extra ammunition clips. Hopefully, the bag will be large enough to accommodate both the rifle and the container for the jewels. Of course, we’ll also take a shovel, which is in my garage.”
“Jesus,” Fabrese said, “you’ve got an M-Sixteen? What’re you expecting? A goddam war?”
“Every day,” Chin answered, “it’s proven that firepower is what our business is all about. At least at the street level.”
“No question.”
“By seven o’clock,” Chin said, “we’ll be ready.” He pointed to the locked glove compartment. “There’s a scanner in there, which will lock onto Bern—onto their car. By using that, and this”—he pointed to the cellular telephone—“we’ll be in good shape.”
“What about having two of your guys follow us, for backup?”
Chin shook his head. “No. The more people know about this operation, the more danger we face. I’m not talking about danger from the police. I’m talking about danger from your people. You’ll be in Mexico, or wherever, with your share. But I’ll be here. I don’t plan to be killed by one of your famous hit men.”
Fabrese made no reply. Only his hands, tightened into fists, hinted at the fear he felt.
“We will park, if possible, within sight of the Rabb house, on Thirty-ninth Avenue. I expect the tall man to arrive there about seven-thirty. He’ll be driving a brown Honda station wagon. There was some conversation about a woman coming with him, to guard Angela while we’re all gone. Another man—his name is C.B.—will also arrive about seven-thirty, in another car. A Ford. At about eight o’clock, Bern—” Vexed with himself, his second faux pas, Chin broke off, began again: “At about eight o’clock, I expect the tall man and Louise to leave. They’ll be in the car with the homing device. The Honda. I expect the other car to follow, keeping the first car in sight. I would expect them to have walkie-talkies, and probably car phones. But they probably—”
“Why do you expect that?”
“Because they’re pros,” Chin answered. “Or at least so we must assume.”
“This tall man—the man they’ve talked to—you know who he is, don’t you?” It was a soft-spoken, hard-edged challenge.
Calculating carefully, Chin let a moment pass. Then: “I have suspicions, no more.”
“Okay, then, who do you suspect he is?”
“I don’t deal in speculation.”
“Bullshit. That’s all you deal in. With you, it’s all smoke and mirrors.”
“Our time is growing short. Do you want to bicker, or do you want to make plans?”
Muttering an obscenity, Fabrese shrugged again, gestured angrily. “Go ahead.”
Ignoring Fabrese’s anger, Chin said, “If the homing device is working properly, we can stay as far as a mile back, and still have a fix on them. I would expect them to cross the Golden Gate Bridge, then drive to Vallejo, and go on to the San Joaquin delta region. I would expect them to arrive at their destination between ten and eleven. From what Louise has been saying to her daughter, I don’t think it’ll take them very long to dig up the treasure. When they’ve got the jewels, they plan to return to San Francisco, either to Louise’s house or maybe to the tall man’s place. He lives in a flat on Potrero Hill. All of them, including Angela and possibly a female PI, will stay together all night. Tomorrow morning, they plan to go to the bank as soon as it opens. Once they put the jewels in Louise’s safe-deposit box, of course, the game’s over.”
“So how’re we going to hit them? Do you mind telling me?”
Now Chin’s smile appeared to express genuine amusement. “We’ll have two hours to make those plans while we drive. However, I’m thinking that, if a good chance presents itself shortly after the treasure is dug up, that may be the time. It’s probable, though, that they’ll be on high alert then.” As he spoke he pointed ahead. “There’s the surplus store. I’ll wait for you in the car. Be quick, please.”
Ignoring the order, Fabrese said, “All right, so they’ll be on high alert. So what then?”
“It depends. We may want to wait till they get back to the city. We’ll hit them after they leave the cars and before they get inside their house. Ideally, at the precise instant when whoever is inside the house—Angela, and the female detective—opens the front door of whichever house they choose to spend tonight in. That way, the two men will be off balance, trying to protect both the women and the treasure. And themselves, of course.”
Grudgingly Fabrese nodded agreement. Repeating: “Of course.”