He turned.
I stepped up to him and belted him over his head with the gun barrel. I hit him as hard as I could. He slumped down on; his hands and knees, but he wasn't out. He had the hardest head in the world. He squirmed round, grabbed at my legs. He nearly had me over. I kicked him off, hit him again with the butt of the gun. I hit him so hard the gun jumped out of my hand. He stretched out flat.
I cut the ropes that tied Brodey to the bed and sat him up. He fell off the bed before I could catch him. He was out.
As I stooped to pick him up, the door jerked open and Sansotta walked in. He stopped, gaped at me, at Bat; then his hand flashed to his hip pocket.
I let go of Brodey, flung myself at Sansotta's legs. We went down in a squirming heap. He clubbed at my head with his fist, but I wriggled away, caught him a bang under his right eye. His head snapped back, but he was on his feet before I was on mine. He was as fast and as tricky as a lizard.
The Luger had vanished under the bed. Bat was stirring, trying to sit up. Brodey was lying like a dead man a few feet from me. Sansotta jumped me. I caught him round his waist, I dragged him down, belted him about the body.
He tried to fight me off, but my weight was too much for him. He gave a strangled yell, but I had him by the throat. I squeezed.
Green gaberdine trousers came into the room. I threw myself sideways, but I was too late.
Something that felt like the Empire State Building descended on my head.
6
I opened my eyes. Bat grinned at me. "Hullo, bub," he said. "How you feel?" I fingered a tender lump on the back of my head, grimaced. "Lousy," I said. He nodded, looked pleased. "I guessed it," he said. "But it ain't nothing to what's coming to you."
I grunted, and looked around the room. It was fair sized, windowless and contained a bed on which I was lying, and a chair on which Bat was sitting. High up in the ceiling was a naked electric light bulb. The room wasn't clean.
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
Bat grinned again. "Three-four hours," he said, leaning back in his chair. He seemed to regard the whole business as the best joke in the world. "You ain't so tough," he added as an afterthought. His short, greasy hair was matted with blood where I had hit him, but he didn't seem to worry about it.
"Where's Brodey?" I asked.
"Him? They put him somewhere. That guy's nuts. He don't know what's good for him," Bat returned, fishing out a package of cigarettes and lighting one. He tossed the package and a box of matches to me. "Have a smoke, bub, you ain't got so long to live."
I lit a cigarette. "What's cooking?" I asked.
He shrugged. "They'll be along to see you when they're through with Brodey," he told me. "You'll know soon enough."
I wondered what had become of Jed Davis. I hoped he'd ducked out in time.
"Well, well," I said, trying to blow a smoke ring. It didn't come off. "I'm not curious. I'll wait."
He grinned some more. "Don't start anything smart," he said. "I'm as fast with a rod as you are—faster."
I laughed at him. "You've kept it quiet then," I said.
A tiny spark of rage burnt in his pig eyes. "Whatja mean?" he demanded, leaning forward.
"Bat Thompson doesn't mean anything to me," I said. But Chester Cain means plenty to you. Work it out for yourself."
"Yeah?" he said, his face a dusty red. "Listen, I could take you any time with a rod, see?" That's what you say."
"Watch, punk," he said, getting to his feet.
He crouched. There was a blur of white as his hand moved; a .38 sprang into sight. It was a fast, smooth draw. It surprised me.
"How's that?" he asked, twiddling the gun around on his thick finger.
"Do that standing in front of me when I'm heeled, and you'd be a dead pigeon," I said.
"You're a liar," he said, putting the gun away, but there was a look of doubt in his eyes.
"All right, I'm a liar, but I can beat you to the draw easy. I'll tell you why. You waste time. You don't co-ordinate your movements."
"Don't what?" His eyes opened a trifle.
"You're all wrong. Show me again."
He stared at me, his curiosity battling with his rage. Then he set himself, the gun jumped into his hand. It was fast and smooth. I knew I'd have to be extra good to beat him.
"Yeah," I said, "the holster's in the wrong position. I thought that was the trouble. It's too high. You want to sling it lower. You waste time catching at the butt. When you get the rod out you have to lower the barrel before you fire. See ? Wastes time."
"Got it all worked out, ain't you?" he said, staring at the gun. I could see he was impressed. He put the gun back into the holster, adjusted the strap to bring the gun in a slightly lower position. "That right?" he asked.
"I'd make it lower," I said, "but then you're not as tall as I am."
He hesitated, then let the strap out another knotch. The way he had it now was the way I wanted him to have it if I could lay my hands on a gun. The holster was now loose enough to go with the gun when he pulled it, and that'd mean a time lag before he could free the gun.
"Yeah," he said, looking at the way the gun was hanging. "That's okay." He grinned at me. "You ain't so smart, are you, bub?"
"What the hell?" I said, shrugging. "I still got confidence. I don't murder guys. I give 'em a chance."
He stared at me. "You ain't murdering me," he said, showing his teeth. "I know I'm good."
"To me you're just a tough egg from Detroit, but not tough enough to stay in Detroit."
He was sliding across the room, his great fist set to belt me, when the door opened and Killeano and Flaggerty came in.
Bat paused, dropped his hand to his side.
"Hi. boss," he said to Killeano.
Killeano ignored him. He stood at the foot of the bed, looked at me.
"Hullo," I said, stubbing out my cigarette.
Flaggerty stood by the door. His face was set.
"Where's the Wonderly girl?" Killeano snapped.
"How do I know?" I said. "Think I carry her around in my pocket?"
"You'd better talk, Cain," he said. "We want that girl, and we're going to get her."
"You don't expect me to help, do you?" I said, lighting another cigarette. "I wouldn't tell you if I knew. We parted company last night after I'd given her enough dough to get out of town."
"She hasn't left town," Killeano said, stroking the bedrail with his small white hands. "There wasn't time before we closed the roads."
"Then she must still be in town," I said, shrugging. "Why don't you look for her?"
Bat threw a punch at me, but I saw it coming. I rolled off the bed on to the floor, grabbed him around the ankles. He came down on top of me. Flaggerty jumped us, and after a little squirming around and thumping, I felt a gun-barrel against my ear. I relaxed.
Bat's moronic face was close to mine.
"Take it easy," he said, "or I'd blow your lid off."
"I'm easy," I said.
They stood away. I got up.
"Look," I said, dusting myself down, "this won't get us anywhere." I sat on the bed, and reached for another cigarette. "Let me do a little talking. Maybe we'll find out where we stand."
Bat folded his fist, but Killeano stopped him.
"Let him talk," he said, sat down on the chair.
Bat and Flaggerty stood behind the bed ready to jump me if I looked like starting trouble.
"I'm making a lot of guesses," I said, looking at Killeano, out this is the way I see it. You're the top shot in town. The only guy who might have been dangerous to you was Herrick. You own the Casino, which is a swell place for getting rid of dud currency which you're printing. You didn't think I knew that, did you? It didn't take me long to figure that one out. You have the Bank and the police in your pocket, and no doubt you're paying the boys to keep their mouths shut. The dud money circulates in the town. But if the visitors take it out of town, you've made sure it's good enough to fox anyone until it's too late to trace it back to you. But what happens? Herrick suspects that you're passing dud notes, and he begins an investigation. He can't go to the police because they're playing with you. He has to work on his own. He gets some of your dud notes and he is ready to spring the surprise on the Governor of the State. But you get wise, and knock him off." I flicked my cigarette away and grinned at Killeano. "How am I going?"
His square-shaped face was expressionless. "Go on," he said.
"Herrick is an important citizen and is running for election! He's not the guy you can knock off regardless. You hear I'm coming to town. It doesn't take you long to figure I'm the boy who's to be blamed for the killing. You fix it, and you make a swell job of it, and I'm the fall guy. Okay. But you slip up on a couple of points. You forgot that Brodey was wise and had I evidence too, and you misjudged the girl who was to lead me into this mess. She ratted on you, and you know she can blow the lid right off your racket. Without her, you're sunk, even if you have made Brodey spill what he knows."
Killeano took a cigar from his vest pocket, bit off the end, spat. He lit the cigar carefully and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Finished?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
He looked over at Flaggerty. "He knows too much," he said. "We'll have to alter our ideas. It wouldn't do to bring him before a jury now. They might cotton on."
"Killed while resisting arrest?" Flaggerty said, raising his eyebrows.
"That's it," Killeano said. "You'd better do it quick. This guy's a tricky customer."
"I'll say I am," I said, winking at Bat.
"With him out of the way, we can concentrate on finding the girl. She can't get away," Killeano went on.
"It wouldn't be a bad idea to get rid of both of them," Flaggerty said.
Killeano shook his head. "We've got to put on a show," he pointed out. "We'll fix her so she won't talk when it comes to the trial. Girls are easy." He looked across at Bat, who leered at him. "Could you handle her?"
"I could sort of try," Bat said, showing his teeth.
Killeano got up. "Get rid of him," he said to Flaggerty.
"So long, Fatso," I said. "Don't think you're safe. You're not. It'll catch up with you in the end."
He took no notice and went out, closing the door sharply behind him.
Bat looked at Flaggerty.
"Do it now?" he said hopefully.
"Not here," Flaggerty said. "We'll take him for a ride."
"Give it to me quick," I said to Bat, "and shoot straight."
"Sure, bub," he said, patting my arm. "It won't hurt."
7
Flaggery drove; Bat and I sat in the back. "How's it feel to take your last ride?" Bat asked, looking at me with simple curiosity. "All right," I said. "I got good nerves." "You have, at that, bub," he said admiringly. "But don't think you're going to skip out on this. You ain't."
"Doesn't look as if we'll find out who's the better man, does it, Bat?" I said after a while.
"I don't have to find out; I know," Bat said, grinning. "I can take you any time."
"Not you," I said. "I'd rather meet you in a gun fight than a paralysed old lady in mittens."
He clouted me in the face with his fist.
"Shaddap," he snarled. "I could take you blindfolded."
"You haven't the nerve to try, have you?" I said.
"He ain't going to," Flaggerty broke in. "We're not taking chances with a snake like you."
"See?" I said to Bat. "Even your pal thinks I'm better than you. Hear him?"
Bat breathed heavily.
"You ain't so good," he said, struggling with his fury. "I could take you. To hell with that lousy flatfoot. I could take you with a guy hanging on each of my arms."
"Pipe dreams," I said, and jerked my head out of the way as he slammed a punch at me. His fist hit the rear window of the car and smashed the glass.
Flaggerty cursed him.
"Cut it out, will you ?" he snarled. "You're going to plug this rat the way I tell you."
"The tough egg from Detroit taking orders from a small-time cop!" I jeered, digging Bat in the ribs.
Flaggerty slowed down and stopped.
We had arrived at a lonely stretch of beach. The lights of Paradise Palms were fading in the light of the dawn. It still looked a nice spot, but to me, it looked a long way away.
"Come on out," Flaggerty said. He sounded worried.
We got out.
Bat's face was purple in the yellow light.
"I'm going to show him," he snarled to Flaggerty. "I'm faster than he is, and I'll make the
punk admit it!"
"You'll do what I tell you!" Flaggerty bawled.
"Tell him to jump into a lake," I said to Bat. "He thinks you're a sissy."
Flaggerty's hand whipped inside his coat, but Bat grabbed his wrist.
"Make a move like that and I'l l blast you too," he raved, "I don't like coppers, see ? I'm going to prove it to this punk, and a yellow shamus like you ain't stopping me."
"You're crazy," Flaggerty spluttered. "Suppose he beats you? He'll kill us both."
Bat grinned. "No, he won't," he said. "I ain't as nutty as that." He took Flaggerty's gun and broke it open. Cartridges spilled on the sand. "See?" he went on, leering at Flaggerty. "He has an empty rod. I have a loaded one. He still gets it even if he beats me to the draw, but he won't."
"Get it?" He looked over at me. "Suit you, bub?"
"Sure," I said. "I'll go happy showing you a turn of speed."
Flaggerty backed away. He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do about it.