West of Guam (44 page)

The thin-faced one smiled and showed white, even teeth.

“You would risk your life and six diamonds—for the four you say I have?”

Jo Gar smiled gently. “My life is not too important,” he said. “I have never regarded it that way. I came here because I knew the one responsible for many deaths would be here.”

The thin-faced one said mockingly: “And you were not trapped? You simply wanted to see that person who you hated because of Arragon’s death, and because of things done to you?”

The Island detective kept his hands motionless on the table surface.

He shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “Not exactly. I wanted to see that one taken by the police. And that is practically assured, now.”

He watched the facial muscles of the thin-faced one jerk, saw his colorless eyes shift towards the blinds of the windows. His gun hand moved a little, in towards his body. Rage twisted his face, and then he smiled. It was a grotesque, mask-like smile. The brown skin was drawn tightly over the face bones and the lips were pressed together. Jo Gar said:

“I remember you, Raaker. You were in the insurance business in Manila until a few years ago. There was about to be a prosecution, and you left the Islands.”

The thin-faced one said with hoarseness in his voice:

“And I have never forgotten you, Señor Gar. You tell me you have come here, not caring about your life—and that the police are outside. Well—I didn’t bring you here to get your six diamonds, Gar—Von Loffler’s diamonds. I brought you here because I hate you. I want to watch your body squirm on the floor, beside that stool.”

Jo Gar said quietly: “That was how you knew about the Von Loffler diamonds—that Dutch Insurance Company. You stayed out of Manila, Raaker—you couldn’t risk coming back. You hired men. Some of them tricked you—and each other. The robbery was successful, but you lost slowly. All the way back from Manila, Raaker, you lost. You used men and women, and they tried to kill me—too many times. They were killed—there were many deaths. Those were diamonds of death, Raaker—and you only got four of them. The woman in black brought them to you—I think she was the only one who was faithful.”

Raaker was breathing heavily. He made a sudden movement with his left hand, plunging it into a pocket. When it came out four stones spilled to the surface of the small table. Three of them only rolled a few inches, but one struck against a finger of the Island detective’s left hand. Raaker said fiercely:

“I hate you, Gar. You drove me from the Islands, with your evidence. I hated Von Loffler, too. He took all his properties away from me, because he learned that I was gambling, because he was afraid of the insurance. So I learned about the stones, where they were. And I planned the robbery. I stayed here—and got reports. I tried to direct. But you were on that boat—”

He broke off, shrugged. “You are going to die, Gar. So I can talk. The woman came to me with the diamonds. Four of them. And by the time she brought them to me here—she hated me. She had seen too much death. She’s gone away, with her child—and you’ll never find her, Gar. She killed a man on the
Cheyo Maru,
and that made her hate me all the more. She had to kill him, before he could talk—to you!”

Jo Gar said steadily: “I don’t think—I
want
to find her, Raaker. I know now who planned the crime, who caused the deaths. And you are caught, Raaker—”

There was the sound of brakes beyond the room, the low beat of an idling engine. Two sharp blasts from a horn came into the room. Raaker jerked his head sharply, then turned his eyes towards Jo Gar again. The Island detective made no movement. He smiled with his lips pressed together. Raaker said: “What’s—that?”

His voice was hoarse. Jo Gar parted his lips. He said:

“A signal from the police—that the house is properly covered.” Raaker sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll get more than one of them—as they come in!” he muttered.

Jo Gar shook his head. “I do not think you will, Raaker. They will not come in. It is easier to wait for
you
—to go
out.
”

Raaker smiled twistedly, but there was fear in his eyes.

“They’ll come in, all right,” he breathed. “I’ll get you first—when they come. You won’t see them come in, Gar.”

Jo Gar smiled. “They will not come in,” he said softly. “If I do not go out, within the next ten minutes, they will unload the sub-machine-guns and the smoke bombs. They will know I am dead—and that there is a killer in the house. The smoke bombs—and the tear gas bombs—
they
will come in.”

Raaker said hoarsely. “——! How I hate you, you little half-breed—”

He jerked the gun slightly. The Island detective looked him in the eyes, still smiling.

“That is true,” he said. “You
do
hate me—and there
is
the blood of the Spanish and the Filipino in my veins. But I am not a criminal—a thief and a killer.”

Raaker turned his head slightly and listened to the steady beat of the cab engine. Then his eyes came back to the small figure of Gar, went to the four glittering diamonds on the table. He said thickly:

“With the others—over two hundred thousand dollars—I would have been fixed—”

His voice broke. Jo Gar said quietly: “Yes, you could have had things easy, Raaker. If I had not taken the same boat that your accomplices took—if things had turned out differently in Honolulu—” Raaker stared at him, his little eyes growing larger. He said slowly:

“Where are—the other six stones?”

Jo Gar smiled. “In the vaults of the customs office,” he replied. “You did not think I would bring them here?”

Raaker’s body swayed a little. The wind made noise in the trees beyond the house, and he stiffened. Jo Gar said in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper:

“If you had had even the courage of a certain type of criminal—and had gone to the Islands yourself, you might have had the diamonds now. If you had not used others—”

Raaker said fiercely: “Damn the diamonds—I’ve got
you!
They brought you here—”

Jo Gar half closed his almond-shaped eyes. “And they’ve brought the San Francisco police here,” he said steadily. “They’ve brought tear gas and sub-machine-guns—and they’re bringing death here, Raaker.” Raaker’s eyes held rage again. He was losing control of himself.

He made a swift motion with his left hand, shaking fingers pointing towards the four stones on the table.

“Look at them—damn you!” he gritted. “Look at the four you couldn’t—reach! Look at them—”

Jo Gar looked into the eyes of Raaker. He shook his head.

“I’ve seen the
others,
” he stated quietly. “I’ve seen many diamonds, Raaker.”

Raaker laughed wildly. He backed towards a wall of the room. “You’ll never see diamonds again,” he said in a fierce tone. “Never,

Gar!”

He raised his gun arm slowly. From the cab outside there came the sharp sound of a horn, silence—and then another blast.

Jo Gar never took his eyes from the eyes of Raaker. He was smiling grimly.

He said very slowly: “Machine-gun bullets, Raaker. And choking, blinding gas. They’ll be waiting for
you
—after you get through squeezing that trigger.”

Raaker cried out in a shrill tone: “Damn you—Gar—that won’t help
you
any—”

There was a sudden engine hum as the cab driver accelerated the motor. Yellow light flashed beyond the house, along the road. O’Halohan was going for the police, starting his cab. For a second Raaker twisted his head towards the sound and the light. He was thinking of machine-guns—and tear gas—

Jo Gar was on his feet in a flash. The table went forward, over. The Island detective leaped to the right as Raaker cried out hoarsely, and the first bullet from his gun crashed into the table wood.

The second bullet from the gun ripped the cloth of Gar’s coat, and his right hand was coming up, with the Colt in it, when the cloth ripped.

He squeezed the trigger sharply but steadily. There was the third gun crash and Raaker screamed, took a step forward. His gun hand dropped; he went to his knees, stared at Gar for a second, swaying—then fell heavily to the floor.

Jo Gar went slowly to his side. He was dead—the bullet had caught him just above the heart. One diamond lay very close to his curved fingers; it was as though he were grasping for it, in death.

The other three Jo found after a five-minute search. Then he went from the room into the hall, and out of the house. The cab was out of sight; in the distance there was still colored light in the sky. The shooting gallery noise came at intervals. Jo Gar found a package in his pocket, lighted one of his brown-paper cigarettes.

He said very softly, to himself: “I have all—of the diamonds. Now I can go home, after the police come. I hope my friend Juan Arragon—knows.”

He stood very motionless on the top step that led to the small porch, and waited for the police to come. And he thought, as he waited, of the Philippines—of Manila—and of his tiny office off the Escolta. It was good to forget other things, and to think of his returning.

The fat man whose eyes were much more slanted than those of Jo Gar sat slumped in the fan-backed chair that had been made by Bilibid prison inmates and shook his round head from side to side. Between chubby fingers of his left hand he held a large palm leaf fan, with which he made faint but graceful motion. He spoke in precise English.

“It is good to have you back in Manila, Señor Gar. You were away a short time, yet it was much too long.”

Jo Gar smiled a little with his slightly almond shaped eyes and said politely:

“You are kind, Señor Kanochi. I am glad to be back, even though I arrive in the midst of the hot season. It is always good to be home.” A ceiling fan that turned very slowly stirred warm air in the tiny office just off the Escolta, main business street of Manila. Two lizards crawled languidly beyond the arc of the fan, and there were several annoying flies in the room. Jo Gar’s diminutive body rested passively in the wicker chair beside the desk; he looked beyond the half-breed Kanochi and seemed to be thinking of things not concerned with the man. Yet he was actually remembering all he heard of the fat one.

Kanochi said in a flat, thinnish voice, still moving the fan in his fingers:

“There is trouble in my
Park of the Moon.
I have come to you about it. If you are at liberty—”

He let his voice trail off; the questioning note gentle and polite. It was almost as though he regretted mentioning the matter to Jo Gar.

The Island detective said:

“I am at liberty, Señor. I have had a good rest since recovering the Von Loffler diamonds. Your
Park of the Moon
has greatly enlarged this season, I have heard.”

The fat one nodded his big head slowly. “I have spent much money, and I do not wish trouble,” he stated in a grim tone. “But one does not obtain always what one wishes, Señor Gar.”

Jo Gar smiled. “It is so,” he agreed.

The fat one sighed heavily. He listened a few seconds to the shrill sound of a native argument, in the
calle
below. One of Manila’s antiquated flivvers made a staccato sound. A tail of one of the two lizards on the ceiling dropped suddenly from the reptile’s body and struck the matting of the floor with a faint sound. The lizard scurried towards a corner of the ceiling. The shrill argument below was suddenly stilled.

Kanochi said:

“In my
Park of the Moon
I have installed a shooting gallery. It is already very popular. The Filipinos like to shoot. Many of them come in from the ranches for gaiety; come in from the plantations. Some are excellent shots with the rifles. My new shooting gallery is an attraction.”

Jo Gar said thoughtfully: “So many men have the desire to kill.”

Kanochi’s small, slanted eyes held a swift expression of surprise, which quickly vanished. He made a little gesture of agreement with his fat hands.

“It is unfortunately so,” he said. “But in the
Park of the Moon
they destroy only figures of clay, many of which move from side to side. And thus they learn to defend themselves.”

Jo Gar said quietly: “Very admirable is such a defense, Señor Kanochi.”

Suspicion flickered in the fat one’s eyes, but died almost instantly. “In my shooting gallery my son-in-law works,” Kanochi went on. “He is a Filipino of the name of Vincente Calleo. He is not a good son-in-law, Señor Gar, but I am a patient man. I wish to give him every opportunity. He gambles at the cock fights and drinks too much. He has lost several positions I obtained for him. Now he works for me. He is not too grateful and not too good a husband for my daughter. Yet there is much about him that I like. He is very young and perhaps will outgrow his faults. That is what I think to myself. I urge my daughter to be patient.”

The Island detective offered brown-paper cigarettes that were politely refused, lighted one himself. Kanochi said very slowly, his slanted eyes almost closed: “This morning I received a telephone call. The one who called said that Vincente owed him quite a sum of money, had owed it to him for some time. He did not give me his name, of course. He spoke Filipino, and many voices are alike. He said, ‘that if I did not at once give to my son-in-law sufficient money for him to pay his gambling debt—Vincente would be killed.’ ”

Jo Gar widened his eyes slightly. The ceiling fan made faint squeaking sound and the Island detective said:

“I shall have to oil the fan—in my absence it has been neglected.”