Free Drowned Hopes by Donald Westlake Page A

said, “John? I don’t get it. What’s wrong?”

    Dortmunder muttered something. Kelp hurried to overtake him and heard the last part: “ — was the planner.”

    “The planner?” Kelp echoed. “Yeah? What about it?”

    Reaching the far corner, Dortmunder turned and said it all over again, out loud: “I was always under the impression, myself, that I was the planner.”

    “Well, sure you are, John,” Kelp said, as Tom Jimson joined them and they resumed their walk east. “Sure you’re the planner. None better.” Kelp even appealed to Tom: “Isn’t that right?”

    “That’s his rep,” Tom agreed.

    “I’ve put together a lot of jobs in my time,” Dortmunder said.

    “Of course you have, John,” Kelp said.

    “Sometimes things go wrong, a little wrong,” Dortmunder said. “I freely admit that.”

    “Luck, pure luck,” Kelp assured him.

    “But the plan is good,” Dortmunder insisted. “I defy you, show me once when I put together a string of events that wasn’t the best when it comes to you get in, you get the goods, you get out.”

    “I can’t,” Kelp admitted. “You win that one, John, I can’t come up with even one.”

    “And all without a computer,” Dortmunder finished, with heavy emphasis.

    “John, John,” Kelp said, while Tom looked a little confused by this turn of events, “the computer doesn’t take your place, John. The computer’s a tool, that’s all, like a pair of pliers, like a jimmy, a lockpick, a, a, a …”

    “Over–and–under shotgun,” Tom suggested.

    “Okay,” Kelp said, though reluctantly. “A tool,” he repeated to Dortmunder. “There’s some safes, you know? You drill a little hole next to the combination, you know the kind?”

    “I know the kind,” Dortmunder agreed, though still stony–faced.

    “Well, the drill,” Kelp said, “the drill doesn’t take your place, John, it’s just an aid, kind of. I mean, it’s easier than poking a hole through a half inch of steel with your finger, that’s all.”

    “Back there right now,” Dortmunder said, “where we just came from, this drill of yours with the TV screen attached to it is thinking up plans. ”

    “For your consideration, John,” Kelp said. “For you to say yes or no. You’re the guy in charge.”

    “In charge of what? A machine and a guy that isn’t even on the inside, this Wally of yours that we can’t even trust with the right story.”

    “Oh, you can trust Wally,” Kelp assured him. “You can trust Wally to be very involved in the problem, and not worry his little soft head about what’s going on in the real world at all.”

    “He better not,” Tom said.

    “I’m the guy who does the plan,” Dortmunder insisted.

    They were at Tenth Avenue already; you walk faster when you’re arguing. Stopping, waiting for the light to change, they all took a little breather, and then Tom said, “So we’re ahead, right? We got three people doin plans, so that’s even more chance to come up with the right one.”

    Kelp, convinced there were quagmires ahead, but unable to keep from following the trail Tom had just indicated, said, “Three people, Tom?”

    “Well, two people and a thing,” Tom amended. “Al here’s gonna think about plans —”

    “You’re damn right I am,” Dortmunder said.

    “And your little round fella’s machine is gonna think about plans —”

    “Hmph,” said Dortmunder.

    “And, of course, there’s me,” Tom said with an almost pleasant look. “But I’ve already got my plan.”

    “That’s right,” Kelp said with a meaningful look at Dortmunder. “Wally and his computer aren’t the problem, John,” he said.

ELEVEN
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    The one called Tom was angry when I said I knew he was the one who hid the treasure. Comment.
    A secret is revealed.

    But why is it a secret? The treasure is hidden, but it isn’t a secret. Comment.

    Tom plus treasure is the secret.

    That’s right. So it matters to Tom that he has a secret.