Surrounded

open."
        Bates looked away from the totem, grimaced as if in imitation of the bird-god's face. "Open? You mean you're hitting it during business hours? Then why do you need me?"
        "It's an after-hours job," Tucker assured him.
        "And the safe will be open?"
        "Most likely. I'll explain why in due time. First-"
        "But if it's open," Bates said, "why take me along?"
        "Just in case it isn't open," Tucker explained. "And we'll also need you to break the safe in the jewelry store next door."
        "You're taking jewelry?" Bates asked.
        "Unset stones."
        Bates shook his head disapprovingly, turned and looked up at the totem pole once more. His face was hard, the Slavic softness gone. His eyes were squeezed half shut, heavy but alert. "Merchandise!" he said, strong on the sarcasm. "You'll have to fence the damned stuff. And you know what a risk that is."
        "I know. But-"
        "It's almost as big a risk as taking the stuff in the first place," Bates said gruffly. "And what the hell can you get from a fence anyway? One-third the real value? More than likely, only one-fourth."
        "I can get a third on this," Tucker said.
        "Small potatoes."
        "Maybe better than a third."
        Bates cleared his throat, would have spat on the floor if this had not been a museum. "It's always best to take cash. Only cash. Never merchandise."
        "I agree," Tucker said. "You've worked with me before. You know I usually pull cash jobs. But unset stones are eminently fenceable. And these ought to be worth half a million. Perhaps two hundred thousand to us when we sell them. I'd be surprised if we get more than a hundred thousand out of the bank."
        "Half a million in uncut stones tucked away in a little jewelry-store safe?" Bates asked, surprised.
        "It's a big, expensive safe," Tucker said, smiling. "I told you this was no ordinary shopping mall. This jewelry store makes rings and necklaces to order. It doesn't sell nineteen-dollar watches, Edgar."
        "Tell me more," Bates said.
        Tucker told him all of it, the whole layout and every step of the plan. He tried to make it sound especially sweet, for he wanted Edgar Bates more than he did any other jugger. Although he had a reputation as an extremely cool and calm operator, Tucker was routinely frightened and tightly wound when he was in the middle of a heist, regardless of whether the job was going well or disastrously. He always projected an aura of self-assurance, was always quick to lead, a sure commander-all the while seething inside. However, when he worked with men like Edgar Bates, he was considerably more relaxed than when he had to deal strictly with Frank Meyers's type. "If the jeweler's safe isn't too difficult for you, we should be able to pull off the entire operation in less than one hour." He looked sideways at Bates. "Sound reasonable to you?"
        "Sure," Bates said. He looked away from the Eskimo artwork. "But what about this Frank Meyers?"
        "What about him?" Tucker asked.
        "You trust him?"
        "Do you know him?" Tucker parried.
        "I've heard the name, I think. But I've never worked with the man. Do you think he noticed everything he should have noticed? No guards or alarms that he might have overlooked?"
        "He's got every detail," Tucker said, remembering the care put into the diagram of Oceanview Plaza. He did not mention his other reservations about Meyers. If Bates came in on this, the two of them could make up for any boner that Meyers might pull. "Are you with us?"
        "You the boss?" Bates asked.
        "I always am."
        "Just checking." He looked up and down the display room and saw that they were alone except for a thin, bearded young man who was studying a totem twenty yards away. He turned his gaze on the bird-god again, studied the splintered beak and the madly gleaming eyes. A group of thirty or forty screaming schoolchildren raced past one of the doors, filling the chamber with maniacal echoes, remnants of eerie high-pitched laughter. When silence returned like a fog drifting in, the jugger said, "I'm along for the ride, then."
        Tucker almost sighed aloud with relief.
        "When?" Bates asked.
        "Next Wednesday."
        "Suits me."
        "We'll stay in Los Angeles," Tucker said. "I have a hotel picked out. It has over four hundred rooms, so no one will notice us or