Part 13 (2/2)

Power to the people, Photographer whispers.

Reporter reads. Sergio Sucks b.a.l.l.s. Spicks Must Die.

So much anger in the world, Sutton says.

Righteous anger, Photographer says. The anger of the oppressed.

Reporter reads. Aryell plus Jose.

Sutton smiles. They sound like a nice couple-you think they made it?

February 4, 1919. Midnight. Bess sneaks out of her house and meets Willie and Happy at Meadowport. Willie carries a plaid grip with bolt cutters from his father's shop. Happy carries a jimmy. They hail a horse cab, tell the driver not to spare the whip.

At the s.h.i.+pyard Willie clips the padlock on the fence. Happy jimmies the door to Mr. Endner's office. The safe is made of wood. The three of them stand before it, looking at it, then at each other, for one long moment.

The safe splinters with two chops from a fire ax. As the door swings out Happy whistles. Would you look at this, Willie. It's like the vault at t.i.tle Guaranty.

Sixteen rolls of cash. Each wrapped in brown paper. Each labeled $1,000. Four times more than Bess told them it would be. They shovel it into the plaid grip, run up Beard, hail another horse cab.

Once upon a time, Sutton says, Happy and I met Bess here. Then we went down to her old man's s.h.i.+pyard and cleaned out his safe.

How much did you take?

Sixteen large. That's a nice sum today, but back then the average Joe made fifteen bucks a week. So. You know. We were rich.

Then what did you do?

Went h.e.l.l for leather to Grand Central.

And then?

Poughkeepsie. My first trip outside the city.

Why Poughkeepsie?

That's where the next train was headed.

The train pulls in at dawn. They ask a cabdriver to take them to the best hotel in town. He takes them to the Nelson House, a redbrick fortress.

Willie, trying to steady his hand as he holds the hotel's heavy black fountain pen, scratches the register: Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Lamb. Happy signs as Mr. Leo Holland. The name of his neighbor back in Irish Town. The prosecution will call this hotel register Exhibit A.

Since Willie and Bess plan to marry in the morning, Bess says there's no longer any sense in waiting. She closes the door of their suite, undoes the top two b.u.t.tons of her dress. Then the bottom two. Willie glimpses her corset. It looks harder to open than her father's safe. She begins the process, untying one silk ribbon after another.

He lies back. He can't resist her anymore. He reminds himself, rea.s.sures himself, that he doesn't need to. She slips into the bathroom. He counts backwards, trying to calm himself.

Ready or not, she calls.

Not, he thinks.

She walks out naked, palms on her thighs, pantomiming shyness, though there's no shyness in Bess. She's got power, the vast power of beauty and youth, and she wants to use it. It's like money burning a hole in her pocket. Willie stares at her angles and curves, her pinks and ivories, the flush of rose along her collarbone. He stares at the points of her nipples, the creamy roundness of her hips, the smooth plane of her stomach. Loving Bess has already caused him agonies of pain and anxiety, but now he sees that what comes next will be a far greater test. Bess, her power, is a giant wave. Willie's boat is small.

You're staring, Willie Boy.

I am?

They're not much, I know.

What?

My b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I'm flat as a pancake.

No. You're perfect.

She walks to the bed, puts one knee on the mattress. She pretends to hesitate. He undoes his belt, she slides off his pants.

Are you going to have me, Willie?

If you'll let me.

I don't want to let you. I want you to take me.

Okay. I'll take you.

Is it going to hurt?

It might, Bess.

I hope it hurts.

No.

They say the hurt is how you know you're a woman.

Then I'll hurt you.

In the years ahead, in cells, in lonely rooms, whenever Willie replays this night, he'll struggle to remember his thoughts. He'll have to remind himself that there were no thoughts, only impulses and flas.h.i.+ng images and tidal surges in his heart. That may be why it all pa.s.ses so fast. Time is an invention of the mind, and with Bess his mind is off. Which is part of the joy. And the danger.

In one motion they finish and tumble into sleep as if falling down a well. He wakes three hours later to find Bess stroking his hair. I thought it was all a dream, he says. She smiles. He wakes two hours later to find Bess sliding her head onto his chest. He sighs. She kisses his fingers. He wakes an hour later to find Happy sitting on the edge of the bed. Happy-what time is it?

Happy smiles at the bloodstained sheets. Time to skedaddle.

Bess looks at the sheets, puts a hand over her mouth. We can't leave these. They'll think there's been a murder.

They strip the bed, stuff the sheets into the plaid grip. Blood money, Happy jokes.

Over breakfast in the hotel dining room they take stock. Surely the safe has been discovered by now. Surely Bess's father has called the police. So the chase is on. They'll need to stay off the trains, and that means buying a motorcar.

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