Broadway Bounty

Chapter Seventeen

Ready was an hour early for the meeting, and he took the time to study that area of the park. It was thick with foliage and trees, but there was a path, with benches along the way. It was quite beautiful and would probably be dangerous after dark.

Ready was sitting on the bench when a man approached. He was a stocky man, thick though the shoulders and chest and slightly bandylegged. From where he sat, Ready could see that the man did not wear a gun.

Then again, his name was Razor.

“You Ready?” the man asked him.

“I am,” Ready said, hoping that he would hear none of the usual jokes about his name.

Apparently the man called Razor had no sense of humor.

“Bolan said you might have some work for me.”

“I might if you’re up to it.”

“What’s the job?”

“One man.”

“I’m up to it.”

“Did you know a man named Boil and his brother?”

“Second-raters,” the man said. He was still standing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“The man I want you to kill killed them.”

“That’s no recommendation.”

New York defeated St. Louis soundly, 11-0—thanks to the masterful “pitching” by a fellow with the unlikely name of Hickey Daring, and the extraordinary “hitting” of another fellow named Matthews Boggs.

On the way back to her apartment, Decker said, “We could have a late lunch or an early dinner.”

“I have to change.”

“Would you like me to come back and pick you up?”

“No,” she said. “You can come up and wait.”

“All right.”

Rosewood stopped in front, and Decker told him to wait.

“How long?”

“Just long enough for the lady to change,” Decker said.

Rosewood gave Decker a sly look, which Decker ignored.

Upstairs Linda said, “I won’t take long.”

“That’s all right,” Decker said. “I’m sure you’ll be well worth waiting for.”

“You’re sweet,” she said. “Five minutes.”

While he was waiting, Decker walked to the window and looked down at the back of the building. There was an alley, filled with debris but accessible.

“By the way,” he called out, “we didn’t decide. Shall we make it an early late lunch or an early dinner?”

He heard her come out. When he saw her, he stopped, stunned. She was indeed well worth waiting for.

She stood in the doorway, naked.

“How about a late dinner?” she asked.

“It’s Bolan.”

Bookman looked up at Largo from his lunch.

“As we suspected,” he said.

“Yes,” Largo said, “as we suspected.”

“What did you find out?”

“Bolan’s put out a call for Razor and Coles.”

Bookman chewed thoughtfully on a bite of turkey sandwich.

“There’s only one thing those boys do well,” he said.

“Kill.”

“Like you, my friend.”

Largo shook his head. “Not like me.”

“They’re first-rate.”

“But not in my class.”

“Keep an eye on Decker.”

“He says he doesn’t need a baby sitter,” Largo reminded Bookman.

“Make sure he doesn’t know you’re there, then,” Bookman said. “You can do that, can’t you, Largo?”

“I can do anything if you pay me enough, Bookman,” Largo said.

“Good,” Bookman said, “then go and do it.”

It was exactly twenty-four hours since he’d been there last when Oakley Ready entered the junk shop.

Albert Bolan was behind the counter, as he had been the day before.

“The sign,” he said, and Ready flipped the sign on the door over.

“What have you got for me?” Ready asked.

“Two men,” Bolan said, “and they’re not cheap.”

“If they do their job.”

“They’ll do it.”

“I want to meet them.”

“Fine,” Bolan said, “I’ll set it up. Tell me where you’re staying.”

“No,” Ready said, “I’ll meet them somewhere in the open.”

“Where?”

Ready shrugged.

“Maybe not,” Ready said. “Bolan says you’re one of the best.”

“He’s wrong,” Razor said. “I am the best. Who’s the man and where do I find him?”

“His name’s Dover,” Ready said and told Razor what hotel he was staying at. He still believed that Decker was Dover. “Bolan may be able to get you some more information about him.”

“It would be nice if he had a lady,” Razor said. He took a straight razor out of his pocket and said, “I like cutting their ladies…first.”

Ready looked into the man’s eyes and saw madness.

“I don’t know if he has a lady,” Ready said, “and I don’t care. I just want the man killed.”

“Why not kill him yourself?”

Ready didn’t answer.

“Are you afraid of him?” Razor asked. He moved closer to Ready and waved his razor slowly in his face. “Do you scare easy, friend?”

Faster than Razor would have guessed, Ready grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted it and forced Razor to his knees. He added a little more pressure, and the razor fell to the ground. From a folded newspaper on the bench, he took a two-shot derringer and pressed it against Razor’s temple.

“All right, all right,” Razor said, gasping at the pain in his wrist, “you can let go now. You proved your point.”

“I should kill you,” Ready said, cocking the gun.

“Then you would have to kill Dover yourself, wouldn’t you?”

Ready decided not to tell Razor about Armand Coles. He released him and sat back on the bench. Razor retrieved his razor and stood up.

“When do you want this done?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Do you care how it looks?”

“I don’t care how you do it, as long as he looks dead when you’re done.”

“All right,” Razor said. He put his straight razor away and rubbed his wrist. “All right. You’ll know when it’s been done. After that, you go and see Bolan and settle up.”

“I’ll be there.”

Razor nodded, turned and left. Ready checked his watch and saw that he had half an hour before Armand Coles would arrive. He picked up part of the folded newspaper next to him on the bench, unfolded it and started to read.

Razor was a proud man—and a crazy one. Crazy, and angry. He rubbed his wrist as he walked through the park. He’d kill Dover, all right. But after Bolan had collected from Oakley Ready, he’d perform his next operation for free—on Ready!

As the second man came into view on the path, Ready folded the newspaper and put it down. He made sure the gun was out of sight beneath the folds.

“Are you the man I am to meet?”

Ready looked up at the man and said, “Are you Coles?”

“I am.”

Coles spoke with a French accent. He was taller and more slender than Razor. If Ready didn’t know better, he would have thought that Coles—certainly the more graceful of the two—was the man who killed with a blade.

“I’m Ready.”

Coles sat down on the bench, apparently perfectly relaxed. The folded newspaper with the derringer was on the bench between them.

“What’s the job?”

“I want a man named Dover killed,” Ready said. He explained that “Dover” had killed Boil and his brother, and Coles had the same reaction to the news that Razor did. Then he told Coles what hotel Dover was in.

“I knew that.”

Ready frowned.

“How?”

“I read the papers,” Coles said. “I know what hotel Boil and his brother were killed in. The papers didn’t say who killed them, however.”

“Well, now you know.”

Ready studied Coles. He was obviously more intelligent and less mad than Razor. Ready decided to tell him more than he had told the first killer.

“I’ve hired two of you, you know,” Ready said.

“That would make sense. Who’s the other?”

“Razor.”

Coles made a face.

“What’s the matter?”

“He’s a barbarian, and he is crazy.”

“So I gathered.”

“Does he know about me?”

“No. I want you to watch Razor and let him try first. If he fails, then you go in.”

“And if he succeeds?”

“Then I’ll pay you both.”

“And if Razor is killed and I succeed?”

Ready smiled. Coles was a man after his own heart.

“Then I’ll pay you double.”

Coles smiled and nodded.

“What’s your weapon?” Ready asked.

“Oh,” Coles said nonchalantly, “anything I find at hand—like this!”

Too late Ready realized what Coles was doing, and he was too slow to stop him. In a split second he was looking down the barrel of his own derringer.

“What was this for?” Coles asked.

“I was sure one of you would be crazy,” Ready said.

“And you were right, weren’t you?” Coles said.

“I was right,” Ready said, but looking into Coles’s eyes now, he wasn’t sure which of the two men was crazier.

Coles took the derringer off cock and handed it back to Ready. The feverish glint in his eyes was gone as quickly as it had come.

“When do you want it done?” Coles asked.

“I told Razor as soon as possible. Will you know where to find him?”

“I’ll find him,” Coles said. “If he’s too slow, I’ll kill him, and then Dover.”

As Coles stood up, Ready said, “I don’t care how it works, as long as Dover ends up dead.”

“Oh, he will,” Armand Coles said. “He will.”