you need it, and I’ve already stashed the spare
key where you can find it. I’ll show you this afternoon.”
There were several minutes of silence, and then Charley drew
a deep breath. “So give me the details,” he said.
“OK, here it is. We’ll stay in a motel this evening – miles
from tomorrow’s site – drive into town and take time to look around, see where
the man will be speaking. I’ll show you where our friends from Harrisburg will
park a getaway car for you, so you can make an easy exit.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll have dinner and sack out early in the motel
room.”
“One room?”
“I’m guessing you’re straight, Charley. I just don’t want
you having any second thoughts and sneaking away.”
“Ah – OK.” He paused. “And tomorrow? What time, anyway? What
time will I be doing – my job?”
“Ten o’clock, but politicians are always late; builds up the
crowd’s anxiety level, you know, so when the pol finally gets there he’s some
kind of savior protecting his fans from a wasted Sunday morning.”
George continued, “A man will be speaking to a crowd, maybe
two hundred people, from a platform. Then if he does what most people do in
that situation, and what he himself usually does, he’ll step down into the
crowd to shake hands. You’ll be there. You’ll edge toward him without being too
obvious about it. You’ll extend your hand – not the one holding the pistol in
your pocket. When he reaches for it you’ll pull out your gun and shoot him.
Two-three times, more if you need to, just to make sure.”
“Will there be cops? Guards?”
“Probably. But they won’t shoot into a crowd, as I said, and
that’s where you’ll be. As soon as you get those shots off, you get the hell out
of there as fast as you can.”
“And the getaway? The car? How will I recognize it?”
“I’ll show you this afternoon, the exact corner where it
will be parked. There’s a clicker key courtesy of our friends, and you can have
that tomorrow morning. I hid it where you can find it just before you get to
the car. Just click and see which car lights up. Are we OK so far? You don’t
sound calm. Show me your hand. No, that one. Shaking? I’ll give you some pills
tomorrow to take the edge off. But no more booze for a while.”
At three p.m., George and Charley pulled into an
unpretentious motel near one of the Pennsylvania Turnpike exits.
“Is this place an original?” asked Charley in wonder.
“Original and almost untouched, as I’m sure you’ll see when
you use the plumbing. One of the original Howard Johnsons.”
“And a restaurant. Is that …”
“Sure. It’s Chinese now, you know, since all the old
restaurants in the chain closed down.”
“Any good?”
“The restaurant? As good as Chinese motel food gets,
Charley.”
George got carryout and brought it back to their room. After
an early dinner, they drove to Grantwood and parked on one of the larger
streets. The sun was almost setting. “Need to wrap this up before dark,” George
said, “Don’t want anyone looking at us crossways.”
They strolled into a large, almost-empty parking lot. A
makeshift platform was already in place along one side, in front of a bare
concrete wall. “This is it, Charley.” Charley began to sweat. “Look around.
There are buildings on all sides here, five or six stories, but see that seven-story
one across the street? That’s called the Morton Building, just an ordinary
office building. Use it to get your bearings. Right?” Charley nodded. “Then
let’s do this in slow motion.”
“You walk around here like you know this town. You were here
last week, you said?”
“Yeah. Checking out the site where you’ll be tomorrow,
making sure the motel was still in business, finding a good spot for my friends
to park your getaway car – and so on.”
George and Charley walked north past the Morton Building and
turned left. “Remember: from in front of that building it’s
key where you can find it. I’ll show you this afternoon.”
There were several minutes of silence, and then Charley drew
a deep breath. “So give me the details,” he said.
“OK, here it is. We’ll stay in a motel this evening – miles
from tomorrow’s site – drive into town and take time to look around, see where
the man will be speaking. I’ll show you where our friends from Harrisburg will
park a getaway car for you, so you can make an easy exit.”
“And then?”
“And then we’ll have dinner and sack out early in the motel
room.”
“One room?”
“I’m guessing you’re straight, Charley. I just don’t want
you having any second thoughts and sneaking away.”
“Ah – OK.” He paused. “And tomorrow? What time, anyway? What
time will I be doing – my job?”
“Ten o’clock, but politicians are always late; builds up the
crowd’s anxiety level, you know, so when the pol finally gets there he’s some
kind of savior protecting his fans from a wasted Sunday morning.”
George continued, “A man will be speaking to a crowd, maybe
two hundred people, from a platform. Then if he does what most people do in
that situation, and what he himself usually does, he’ll step down into the
crowd to shake hands. You’ll be there. You’ll edge toward him without being too
obvious about it. You’ll extend your hand – not the one holding the pistol in
your pocket. When he reaches for it you’ll pull out your gun and shoot him.
Two-three times, more if you need to, just to make sure.”
“Will there be cops? Guards?”
“Probably. But they won’t shoot into a crowd, as I said, and
that’s where you’ll be. As soon as you get those shots off, you get the hell out
of there as fast as you can.”
“And the getaway? The car? How will I recognize it?”
“I’ll show you this afternoon, the exact corner where it
will be parked. There’s a clicker key courtesy of our friends, and you can have
that tomorrow morning. I hid it where you can find it just before you get to
the car. Just click and see which car lights up. Are we OK so far? You don’t
sound calm. Show me your hand. No, that one. Shaking? I’ll give you some pills
tomorrow to take the edge off. But no more booze for a while.”
At three p.m., George and Charley pulled into an
unpretentious motel near one of the Pennsylvania Turnpike exits.
“Is this place an original?” asked Charley in wonder.
“Original and almost untouched, as I’m sure you’ll see when
you use the plumbing. One of the original Howard Johnsons.”
“And a restaurant. Is that …”
“Sure. It’s Chinese now, you know, since all the old
restaurants in the chain closed down.”
“Any good?”
“The restaurant? As good as Chinese motel food gets,
Charley.”
George got carryout and brought it back to their room. After
an early dinner, they drove to Grantwood and parked on one of the larger
streets. The sun was almost setting. “Need to wrap this up before dark,” George
said, “Don’t want anyone looking at us crossways.”
They strolled into a large, almost-empty parking lot. A
makeshift platform was already in place along one side, in front of a bare
concrete wall. “This is it, Charley.” Charley began to sweat. “Look around.
There are buildings on all sides here, five or six stories, but see that seven-story
one across the street? That’s called the Morton Building, just an ordinary
office building. Use it to get your bearings. Right?” Charley nodded. “Then
let’s do this in slow motion.”
“You walk around here like you know this town. You were here
last week, you said?”
“Yeah. Checking out the site where you’ll be tomorrow,
making sure the motel was still in business, finding a good spot for my friends
to park your getaway car – and so on.”
George and Charley walked north past the Morton Building and
turned left. “Remember: from in front of that building it’s
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