The Hot Rock Read Free

down, and the Major studied this man Dortmunder. It was always fascinating to see a man in the flesh after having known him only as a dossier, words typed on sheets of paper in a manila folder, photostats of documents, newspaper clippings, photos. Here was the man that dossier had attempted to describe. How close had it come?

    In terms of facts, Major Iko knew quite a bit about John Archibald Dortmunder. He knew that Dortmunder was thirty–seven years of age, that he had been born in a small town in central Illinois, that he had grown up in an orphanage, that he had served in the United States Army in Korea during the police action there but had been on the other side of the cops–and–robbers game ever since, and that he had twice been in prison for robbery, the second term having ended with a parole just this morning. He knew that Dortmunder had been arrested several other times in robbery investigations, but that none of those other arrests had stuck. He knew that Dortmunder had never been arrested for any other crime, and that there didn’t even appear to be any rumors concerning any murders, arsons, rapes, or kidnapings that he might have performed. And he knew that Dortmunder had been married in San Diego in 1952 to a night–club entertainer named Honeybun Bazoom, from whom he had won an uncontested divorce in 1954.

    What did the man himself show? He was sitting now in the direct sunlight streaming in the park–view windows, and what he looked mostly like was a convalescent. A little gray, a little tired, face a little lined, thin body, rather frail looking. His suit was obviously new and obviously the cheapest quality made. His shoes were obviously old but had obviously cost quite a bit when new. The clothing indicated a man who had been used to living well but for whom times had recently turned bad. Dortmunder’s eyes, as they met the Major’s, were flat, watchful, unexpressive. A man who would keep his own counsel, the Major thought, and a man who would make his decisions slowly and then stand by them.

    And stand by his word? The Major thought it worth taking the chance. He said, “Welcome back to the world, Mr. Dortmunder. I imagine freedom feels sweet right now.”

    Dortmunder and Kelp looked at each other.

    The Major smiled and said, “Mr. Kelp didn’t tell me.”

    “I know,” Dortmunder said. “You been checking up on me.”

    “Naturally,” the Major said. “Wouldn’t you, in my position?”

    “Maybe I ought to check up on you,” Dortmunder said.

    “Perhaps you should,” the Major said. “They’d be happy to tell you about me at the UN. Or call your own State Department, I’m sure they have a file on me over there.”

    Dortmunder shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What did you find out about me?”

    “That I can probably take a chance on you. Mr. Kelp tells me you make good plans.”

    “I try to.”

    “What happened the last time?”

    “Something went wrong,” Dortmunder said.

    Kelp, rushing to his friend’s defense, said, “Major, it wasn’t his fault, it was just rotten luck. He had it figured for —”

    “I’ve read the report,” the Major told him. “Thank you.” To Dortmunder he said, “It was a good plan, and you did run into bad luck, but I’m pleased to see you don’t waste time justifying yourself.”

    “I can’t play it over again,” Dortmunder said. “Let’s talk about this emerald of yours.”

    “Let’s. Can you get it?”

    “I don’t know. How much help can you give us?”

    The Major frowned. “Help? What kind of help?”

    “We’ll probably need guns. Maybe a car or two, maybe a truck, depending on how the job works up. We might need some other stuff.”

    “Oh, yes,” the Major said. “I could supply any materiel you might need, certainly.”

    “Good.” Dortmunder nodded and pulled a crumpled pack of Camels from his pocket. He lit a cigarette and leaned forward to drop the match in the ashtray on the Major’s desk.