A Redhead for Mike Shayne

15

There were no cars in the public parking lot at the night club when Michael Shayne got there. He pulled up directly in front of the entrance and got out. The doors stood wide open, and inside an old man was industriously mopping the floor of the lounge.

He didn’t even look up from his task as the detective crossed the damp floor and went down the corridor to the stairway at the rear.

It was very still inside the building and he encountered no one else as he climbed the stairs and went toward Lasher’s office.

The outer door into the reception room stood open and it was empty this morning, with the ceiling light on.

The door to the inner office was closed. Shayne strode across to it and knocked lightly and then turned the knob. He had timed his arrival carefully so it was exactly ten o’clock, and as he pushed the door open Armin Lasher called out from inside, “That you, Shayne?”

He said, “Yes,” and stepped inside, confronting the gangster seated behind the big bare desk as he had been the night before, with Dixie and Bull standing stiffly behind his chair.

Lasher’s black eyes narrowed for a moment as he took in Shayne’s appearance, and then a faint smile flickered over his mobile face. “You’re not near as pretty as you were last night,” he observed sardonically. “Like I told you then, you don’t know when to keep your big mouth shut I guess.”

Shayne said evenly, “I guess not.” He glanced from the seated gangster up into the faces of Dixie and Bull, and he sensed real fear in their furtive expressions. He knew, then, that Lasher was not aware they had disobeyed him last night, and that he would have them on his side if he played it right. He touched the strips of adhesive on his cheek and said lightly, “One of the hazards of my job. Sometimes I run up against a guy tougher than I am, and I don’t hold a grudge if I get marked up a little.”

Lasher merely grunted, then he demanded, “What are we here for, Shamus? You got something to say… say it.”

“We were talking about Russian pistols last night,” Shayne reminded him. “The whole thing’s a hell of a lot bigger than I realized, and I need somebody with your connections to swing the deal. I know there are about a dozen well-heeled Cuban refugee groups in town who would be eager cash customers for the kind of goods I can deliver. In my position, I can’t contact them. You can. I know where the stuff is. You handle the selling end and we split fifty-fifty.”

“What is the ‘stuff’?” asked Lasher.

“An assorted shipment of Russian small arms. The Lenski pistols are a sample. There are six gross of them. At a hundred bucks each…” He shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Automatic rifles… machine guns… with ammunition to match. All new and the very latest design. Exactly what the hotheads need to foment half a dozen revolutions in Cuba and the rest of Latin America.”

“Where is it?” demanded Lasher.

“That’s my secret,” Shayne told him evenly. “Are you interested?”

“Why not? Show me the stuff and we’ll deal.”

“There’s one hitch. There’s a mug standing between me and the shipment, and he’s got a couple of torpedoes gunning for me right now. I’ve got to stay alive to make delivery to you. That’s where your two boys come in. I need a couple of real pros like Bull and Dixie to handle that angle.” He raised his gaze and looked from one to the other with cold eyes. “From what I’ve seen of them, I figure they’re just the pair for the job. Give them to me for a couple of hours and we’ll be in.”

Neither of them said anything or moved. They looked back at him dispassionately and he had no idea what they were thinking.

“Right now?” asked Lasher.

“It’s got to be right now. I’m the only one standing in this other guy’s way and he’s putting me on the spot. I’ve got a date to meet him out in the country in about an hour, and I’ve got word he’ll have a couple of quick-trigger boys on hand to blast me out of the picture.

“I’m not handing you anything on a platter,” he went on harshly to Lasher. “It’s my hide I’m worried about. If Bull and Dixie can handle the job, I’ll owe you half the take. But there’s sure as hell going to be shooting, and you boys better shoot first,” he ended raising his eyes to them again. “Don’t throw in with me unless you’re as good as I think you are.”

“They’re good all right,” Lasher assured him. “Two of the best.” He leaned back in his chair with narrowed eyes and considered the proposal. “I don’t see why not. If it’s as big as you say, Shayne.”

“It’s that big. You boys all ironed and ready?” Shayne asked them. “My car’s in front and we’re due south of Homestead for the showdown in less than an hour.”

Dixie said in a tight voice, “We’re ready if you are.”

“Sure,” said Bull with a swagger. “You show us who you want gunned… tha’s all.”

Shayne said, “Let’s go then,” and turned on his heel and walked out.

They followed close behind, and Bull caught up with him at the head of the stairs and said earnestly, “Jeez! It’s real swell you ain’t got no hard feelin’s for last night. Dixie an’ me, we just sorta got carried away.”

Shayne said lightly, “Why should there be any hard feelings? I guess I asked for it when I pushed you in front of Lasher. Important thing is, I knew where to come when I needed a couple of real tough lads. Anybody that can rough me up and get away with it… know what I mean?”

“Hear that, Dix?” said Bull over his shoulder happily. “Just like I tol’ you this mornin’. You take a pro like Mike Shayne… why should he get sore for a little slappin’ around? He’s handed out plenty his ownself, you can bet.”