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Apart from that, though, Stein was quite a nice guy. But a job’s a job. It might be dirty work - but somebody’s gotta do it.
Anyway, like I say, there’s Stein in this car - all sleek shiny leather and a customised horn. The car was a kinda dark blue jobby.
Stein eyeballed me and beckoned me over. My senses, trained and honed by Ninja Masters, and countless exploits since, were strained to the limit for any double-cross Stein might try to pull. When I considered it safe I wandered over to the car, keeping my hand firmly on my piece. Being a highly acclaimed Shakespearian actor in the past (you should see my Bottom) I feigned surprise and smiled at Stein so as not to arouse suspicion.
It’s an art you learn quickly in my line of work - to do anything else might alert the perps and bad guys that something is amiss. That’s all the reason some of them need to draw a bead on you and start measuring you up for the old pre-stressed pacamac. (Another free tip from yours truly: Never let the perps suss your thoughts and intentions with some careless body language or verbal faux-pas.)
"Vinny!" I said, in mock admiration. "How’s the ‘mob’? Still laundering money for ‘em you old sewer-sucking scum-bucket low-life sleaze-bag. I thought you were doing a ten stretch after Joey ‘The vol-au-vent’ Feldspar ratted on you and dished the dirt to the D.A. on the counterfeit vole furs you were trying to shift."
I made sure the smile never left my face - I was giving nothing away to this guy.
"Ah, Mr. Conan," said Vinny, with barely controlled anger: obviously my inscrutable visage and imperturbable sang-froid approach was getting to him - he must have realised he’d never break me.
He continued, "Yes, you’re right, I have been an inmate in the not-so-distant past. But that’s all behind me now. I’ve paid my dues to society."
Huh, I thought, I’ve heard that line before. Well, Mr. Vinny ‘The Kumquat’ Stein. I’ll be watching you and your money-laundering subordinates. One line out of step and I’ll show you how Dicks deal with the laundry.
He went on, "I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Conan, to give you some information. While I was inside I had some disturbing news from my medic. It appears that I have not long to live. I’ve put my affairs in order and I wanted to do one good deed before I meet my maker. I’ve come to inform you of a heist!"
The adrenalin surged. I used a Tibetan yoga technique I learned when visiting my old boxing buddy the Daila Lama to control my heartbeat and respiration. This was BIG news. If this went well I could get the drop on the ‘mob’, and get the credit for taking out the black market in recycled paper.
I fixed him with my withering steely stare. "So, Stein, that’s what it takes to get you to roll over? Why wait so long? Why did you spend all those years in the black market laundering money for the ‘mob’? Why did you do it, Stein? Why did you ruin decent people’s lives? Why did you work for the ‘mob’, Stein? Why did you work for them? Eh? Eh?"
I guess it’s true what they say about deathbed confessions. After all these years he admitted it: "They made me!" he said.
I curled my lip and tried as hard as I could to look arrogant. "Huh," I lisped. "I discovered that when your mother was out sucking knee-high grasshopper’s eggs! Now what’s the dope on this heist?"
What Stein told me that day made my blood run cold. I’m only prevented from telling you because what you don’t know won’t hurt you and put you in the cross-hairs of the ‘mob’. It also doesn’t hurt to raise the tension of a plot once in a while.
One of Stein’s lieutenants, known only as ‘The Paper Lady’, had masterminded a heist of the Acme Paper Company’s payroll. The idea was to bleach the notes and then sell them on, unmarked now, as quality paper to be recycled. These people will stop at nothing.
It was obvious that Stein was genuine. If he’d told me that information last year it could only have meant two things: One, I was inside doing a ten-to-fifteen for the Crouch and Jocelyn sustained-non-inhalation-syndrome scenarios; and, Two, I wouldn’t have believed him: he didn’t meet ‘The Paper Lady’ until nine months ago!
What I had to do was make sure that only I knew the location, date, time, manpower and target of the heist.
I invited Stein in. I told the girl on reception Stein was coming up to my room to fill me in. She gave me a filthy look - she must have been a friend of the maids!
Stein told me that, to keep profits high, there was only going to be ‘The Paper Lady’ and a low-life loan shark I’d come across before, Hal Itosis, carrying out the heist.
Stein owed Itosis one. Hal was a real scum-bucket. Stein suspected he was responsible for strangling an old-fashioned but charming aunt, named Phylis, he was particularly fond of.
I tried to think of her before the dirty deed, but the thought made me shudder - old quaint aunt pre garrot. For the sake of old lag Stein, I’d hear him out, perfect a plan, round up Itosis and ‘The Paper Lady’, put a serious dent in the ‘mob’, and still be back in time for a romantic candlelit dinner for two with Viv.
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