I mean is, we’re just discussing things. You know, to see what can be done.”

“I think I understand.” She laughed. “In the investment field you can’t always put a precise name to the nature of any given business at hand.”

Didn’t she know a damn thing?

“Mr. Catell, would you like a fresh drink?”

He accepted another one and they talked about the heat and the lawn.

Eleven o’clock. When she rose, Catell got up too, and she offered her hand.

“I’m sorry my husband is keeping you so long, and now I must run too. I’m taking a little trip and my packing isn’t half done. You will excuse me?”

Probably a little trip to Hawaii or someplace. Catell finished his drink. He was getting annoyed with the rising heat and the long wait. He tilted his glass and sucked on the small piece of ice that was left. Then he heard a car crunch on the gravel, and a few minutes later Smith came through one of the glass doors.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Catell. Didn’t really expect you till later. Christ, the heat!” Smith sat down, mopping his big face. “I see you’ve tried to cool off. Join me in another one?”

“Sure.”

“Who’s been drinking with you? My wife?”

“We chatted a while. She’s packing.”

“Still packing? What did you talk about?”

“Investment business.”

“Oh.”

Kimoto brought two more drinks and Smith leaned back with a sigh.

“How’d it go at the resort?”

“Fine. I got everything here in my pocket.”

“Not now, Catell. Let me catch my breath.”

“Should be a cinch, that place.”

They drank quietly for a while.

“Get your expenses down?” Smith asked.

“Yeah, right here.”

“Never mind. How much?”

“Twelve hundred. The gambling—”

“Never mind. Here.”

Smith counted out some bills and pushed them across the glass-topped table.

“Not a bad business, this, huh, Catell?”

“Thanks, it’s O.K.”

“What do you think the take will be?”

“Perhaps close to a hundred grand.”

Smith took a cigar out, unwrapped it, lit it.

“Not a bad business, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

“Catell, listen. You still going through with your plans?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look. This heist is worth three, four times as much as that gold of yours. Did you ever think of sticking around? Right now, I’m giving you peanuts for your work, sure. But—”

“You trying to pull out from under?”

“I’ve told you once before, Catell, I don’t operate that way. What I’m offering you is a chance to come into my organization.”

“No deal.”

“What’s the matter with you, you crazy nut? Just what’s so much more important about heisting a stick of gold for a guy like Schumacher than to do the same work for more dough in this outfit?”

“A hell of a difference, Smith. Forget it. Besides, I got other plans.”

“Well, my offer stands. For a while longer. Think about it. Now let’s finish up and get going. I asked you to come here so you could give me a lift to Burbank. It’s on your way.”

They got up and walked to the carport. Catell was gritting his teeth at the delay, but he didn’t say anything.

“You drive.” Smith sat in the back.

When they pulled up to the side of the machine shop, the heat had become like a simmering liquid.

One o’clock.

There were four other men in the office, none of whom Catell knew. They were waiting in their shirt sleeves, collars open, hair sticky. The air-conditioning had broken down.

“Fellows, I want you to meet Tony Catell, head man on this job. Catell, this is Penny, Gus, Plotke, and Corvean. All good men. They’ll go with you.”

“I only need three.”

“Why?”

“I only need three, Smith. You’ll see why.”

“Never mind. Gus, you beat it.”

“Wait a minute,” Catell said. “Why Gus? Maybe I want Gus and not one of the others.”

“I said Gus goes.” Smith sat down. “All right, gather around. Any time you’re ready, Catell.”

Three o’clock.

They went over the job for the hundredth time. Every detail, every eventuality, every movement and step.

Five o’clock.

“Plotke, go out there and tell that slob foreman to get some more fans in here. And sandwiches.”

“How about some beer, boss?”

“No beer. You drink water till we’re through.”

Seven o’clock.

“All right, we’ll go over it once more. We leave both cars…”

Eight o’clock.

“Everybody here same time tomorrow. And don’t write anything down in the meantime. Memorize, memorize.”

When Catell drove to Santa Monica he was exhausted. The heat, the tension before the job, his strange faintness, all made him wish for a cool, still darkness and peace.

He stopped at a drive-in on the other side of Hollywood and dialed the apartment. Lily didn’t answer. He dialed the number again and let the phone ring a long