Day of the Guns

Chapter 13

If Ernie Bentley had more at home than he could take care of, he was showing it pretty well. He was still in the lab playing with miniature explosive charges when I walked in, and though the entry looked casual and easy, I knew I had been checked out on a closed-circuit TV downstairs and if I hadn’t been right, I would have been dead.

I said, “Hi, lover.”

Ernie never bothered to look up. “Now what.”

“You have microphotos of the bullets from Toomey?”

“What’s this, amateur night?”

“So?”

“Certainly. You want to see the slides?”

I tossed the two slugs down beside him. “Make a comparison test.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

He snapped a light off, threw a couple of switches and picked up the slugs. While he was busy running the photos I walked to the window and looked down at New York in the shadows below.

It wasn’t like being uptown. Here it was quiet and mean and dark, with all the latent streaks of hatred and animosity that go to build a city. Down there people were thinking and planning, and according to statistics, somebody would die violently within four blocks of this place tonight.

Hell, I could tell them where three of them were already if the police hadn’t found them yet.

Ernie processed the slides as quickly as he could, set them in the machine and projected them on a screen. The left one killed Toomey. Its nose was blunted and there was a twist to the conical shape, but each land and leed had left an indelible groove on the metal.

The first one didn’t measure up, but the second one did. It came from Alexis Minner’s gun and now, even in death, he didn’t have to worry about diplomatic immunity. He was on a meathook nobody could get off and there he had to hang. Those fat-faced Russian slobs wouldn’t even dare try a push after what we had and what I had set up. Before the Washington agencies or I.A.T.S. could get on it New York’s Finest would have it photographed, fingerprinted and processed and no matter how hard the District pushed for jurisdiction, the locals wouldn’t let it out of their laps. It had better be good or it was no go no matter what.

This time it was pretty good.

So Minner killed Toomey... his other gun hands were on record, and in a fit of remorse, or a fight over the money they had to find, three guys had gone down. Maybe some bright boy would tie up the angles and figure me into it, but here, at least, I.A.T.S. kept quiet and Martin Grady’s loot paid off excuses. Hell, maybe patriotism would even come into the picture.

But it wasn’t the end yet. The noose wasn’t tight enough.

Ernie said, “Use the goof balls yet?”

“Saving them for an emergency.”

“Look, I found something out. They’re good for about forty-eight hours. For some reason the instability becomes acute after that and you don’t need heat or impact to set them off. The shells are too thin and there is an evaporation factor involved. Give yourself about twelve hours to be on the safe side and drop them down a toilet somewhere.”

“What happens then?”

“They dissolve. No trouble.”

“How long did you have them before you handed them over?”

“I’m getting old,” Ernie said, “or maybe I just hate you field men. Limit it down. I just cut six hours off their expiration date. If I were you I’d make sure they were either used or destroyed before...” he looked at his watch... “two A.M. Monday morning. Of course, if you want to be part of a grand experiment...”

“Drop dead,” I said.

He went back to his microscope and peered down the lenses. “I have a radio tuned to police frequencies,” he mentioned.

“Good for you.”

“They got to the house.”

“How about that.”

“Think you ought to write a report before you leave? You may not have another chance.”

“Faith. Nothing like it.”

Ernie shrugged his shoulders elaborately and looked up from his microscope. “Tiger... I’m an inside type. You field men scare hell out of me. I know what you do and help do it, but you wouldn’t catch me dead with a gun in my hand or any of the tools I dream up. Sometimes I sit here and wonder what goes on outside there and when I think about it long enough I get the cold shakes because I know I’m a part of it. I’m in this for money and nobody has enough to pay me for what I do or what I think except Martin Grady. But when those times come when my conscience starts working on my mind I try to figure out just where I stand. I look at you field men with your goddamn bullet scars and that wild, cold look in your eyes and know you can kill without a thought and man, I get scared. Am I a man or a bug?”

I took a long time before I spoke. “You’re a man, buddy.”

“Thanks. Sometimes I wonder.”

“Play your part. You’re important. Some things we can do alone. Some things we can’t. At least you go home at night to a wife and lie in bed safe and sound and it isn’t a bad thing to know you have. Try sweating out one day alone in a mud hut with a native whore so you can get one tiny piece of information or eat chicken heads and snakes to get inside a ritual and nail down a name that belongs to a guy you have to disembowel because he swallowed a piece of paper with an address or phone number written on it. Think of how it is to spray a compound full of people who have archaic weapons wanting to fill your hide with poison darts and watch them fall when even they know they’re out of range, but to stay alive you pump all those bodies full of .45 slugs or Schamuser bullets or occasionally lob a grenade through an open window and watch chunks of arms and legs sail out of the wreckage. Buddy, you’re lucky. You don’t know how lucky. Stay with your chemicals, but when you start thinking, feel what we have to think when the possibilities are that you can be eaten alive by ants or tossed into a sinkhole with a weight tied to your feet and know you’re dead, real dead in a few seconds and there’s no way out.”

Ernie’s smile was pathetic. He’d like to try it, but he didn’t dare. He had a wife at home. “Why don’t you get married?” he asked me.

“Who the hell would have me?”

“A woman.”

“There are only girls and broads left.”

“I hear one time you loved a woman.”

“If you’re really hungry I’ll make you eat that goddamn microscope,” I said.

His eyes went up and down me and at last he got the answer. I could see it go through his analytical mind and come up with the tape all neatly punched and classified. “I’ll stay where I am,” he said. Then he added, “Why don’t you find a broad and get married?”

“Shut up, Ernie.”

“No... no kidding. I heard about you and somebody a long time ago. What happened?”

“I said, shut up.” My voice felt like a rasp in my throat.

“Psycho?” Ernie asked gently.

I turned around, looked at him and smiled. “I’ve killed friends too, Ernie, so lay off me.”

“No, I won’t. You got an itch for a broad. What happened?”

“Nothing happened yet.”

“But it will? You’re in love, sucker.”

“She tried to kill me,” I said.

“Kill her then. What do you have left?”

“I never had anything to start with. I died a long time ago. Now lay off me.”

“I can’t. We’re in the same racket. I need you and you need me. You got a problem... oh hell, I know all about it, Tiger. You had one and you found her again. What now?”

I grinned, my mouth tight and my eyes pulled down into little slits. “Dead,” I said. “She died.”

“Happy landings,” he told me and went back to his microscope.

I hopped a cab up to Charlie Corbinet’s apartment, called him from the lobby to make sure he was alone, then went up. It was a small place, almost military in appearance. It functioned as a second office to him with filing cabinets, a large working desk and a rack full of handguns and rifles on the wall.

“Coffee, Tiger?”

“A quick one.”

He poured out two, sat down casually and said, “I just had a call. There has been a triple killing downtown. One happened to be attached to the Russian delegation.”

“How about that.”

“Yes, Tiger, how about that? Care to offer an explanation?”

“No.”

He picked up the coffee cup and looked into it, thought a moment then sipped it. “At this moment the police are a little baffled. The bullets from one gun killed a man named Toomey. They found a good deal of money in the place so the shooting could have been over that.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I didn’t think so. Now, what’s the visit about?”

I pulled out the three thousand-dollar bills I had taken from Minner’s cache and laid them down in front of the Colonel. “Run a check on these serial numbers. See if they are from the same batch as the other one I gave you.”

He fingered the bills, frowned and reached for the phone. He had to go through two other numbers and a fifteen-minute wait before he had his party, then the conversation was brief. He read off the numbers, nodded, said something I didn’t get, then put the phone back.

“You hit it, Tiger.”

“Okay, so that dough was earmarked for the rough stuff. Alexis Minner arranged for that contract kill through somebody else and this is the money that was used in the pay-off. The Reds may start to sound off loud about this but when you slap it down in front of them they’ll cut and run like dogs. My suggestion is to let the papers have it... spread it all over the front pages.”

“You know better than that. This is still an age of diplomacy,” he said.

“Balls. It’s about time the public was wised up to what these slobs are pulling. They come over here acting like they own us, get privileged enough to commit murder without too much fear of reprisal and then bitch when they’re caught at it. Now I want you to understand something, Colonel... I’m not tied to any stupid rules of diplomatic protocol and convention. I don’t give one hoot in hell what the eggheads in Washington think. I’ve been there when they’ve loused up the situations so badly we had to slink off with our tails between our legs. Nobody’s going to stop me from doing what I want to do. Either I.A.T.S. or some other agency can make this thing public, or I will. I have a guy standing by who will go down the line on it and if it has to come out that way a lot of the college boys in striped pants will be reaching for their hats.”

“You’re asking for it, you know.”

“Screw it, Colonel. I’m the one who’s a target. They don’t put me up there without realizing the consequences. They got what they wanted... almost. There’s a little more left to do and it won’t take long. There’s still time enough to round the story out and polish it off to suit propaganda needs if they want to play it that way. I’ll give them one day to get ready, no more.”

“It’s incidents like this that can cause a war,” he reminded me.

I finished the coffee and put the cup on the table. “You got it wrong. They can’t afford a blowup. They aren’t that tough. We may seem like we can be pushed easily, but they know that when the chips are down we can wipe them out and nothing will stop us. If we can’t be pushed they’ll back down until they can control things again, but right now we have the ball and it’s about time we ran it a little.”

“Very well. I’ll submit the suggestion. If they don’t agree, I’ll remind them of the alternative. You know the possibilities, don’t you?”

“Sure, so let them try spotting me like they did Vance in L.A. When our own kind play it rough with us we let out all the stops. Martin Grady will have them screaming through their ears again.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve been around, Colonel.”

“And where do you go from here?”

“To find Vidor Churis.”

“The same way you found the others?” A hard smile worked at the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe.”

I sat back and looked at him without really seeing him at all. There was a sharp turn in the picture somewhere and it had been pulling at my mind all night. It was one of those little things that is there without being seen you know can be the crux of the whole affair.

What?

Someplace I had picked up the key then laid it down again without realizing it.

Corbinet said, “Got it yet?” He knew what I was thinking.

I shook my head. “It’ll come. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, maybe it does. If one thing doesn’t show up something else will.”

“Don’t go playing hunches. You can die that way.”

“You can die either way, Colonel.” I got up and put on my hat. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see what they want to do with this angle of attack.” He flapped the three bills against his fingers. “They may want a statement from you.”

“No doubt. It will make nice reading in the papers.”

“In view of the situation Hal Randolph may want to handle it differently. It can be done if it is warranted. In either case you are still on the spot, Tiger. Our Russian friends won’t take this lying down.”

“I’m on their ‘A’ list now,” I grinned, “but there’s a difference this time.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re on mine,” I told him.

The ticket window of the Grenoble Theater was just opening as I arrived. A half-dozen people were in line, a couple with kids, and I waited until they had gone inside before I shoved my money through the slit. The woman there passed back the ticket and the change without ever looking up, then went back to her evening paper as I walked away.

I took the same seat I had before and sat there with the .45 in my lap under my raincoat and waited. There was no sign of Vidor Churis or his round-mouthed friend. I did the same thing for the second show with the same result, then filed out with the rest.

If Churis was going to make the show he had one more day to do it in otherwise I’d lose a possible contact for three weeks. The previews of coming attractions all were of different language films for that period of time. The only other chance was that Newark Control could come up with another lead and to check it out I called them.

Negative.

I tried Dell on his private line and got the same thing, but he said he would put the word out to expedite matters if possible, then suggested that I take in the special show that night. Something new from Paris, France. If the lady was broad-minded she would enjoy it too.

Saturday night. The loneliest night in the week.

So I called the lady to see if she was broad-minded enough and Gretchen said, “Tiger Mann, I have never, repeat... never, seen anyone who was so offhanded about asking for a date.”

“It’s not that late.”

“Do you know it’s after eleven?”

“I’m a night people.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Causing trouble. Now I’m tired. I’d like to see you. Dell has a new act coming into the Hall of the Two Sisters we can catch if you shake it up. That is, if you can take it. His shows get pretty rough.”

She laughed, a pretty sound, full of life. “You talked me into it, Tiger. Will you come to get me?”

“Grab a cab and meet me there. It’ll be quicker.”

“Okay, lover boy. But there are times when I’d like to belt you one.”

It took me ten minutes to get to the Hall and Dell was there to meet me. I told him my broad-minded girl would be along shortly and to bring her to the booth. When he had relayed the word to his other doorman he led the way up the steps, down to the end and parted the curtains for me.

I told the Arab waiter to bring a pair of drinks and pointed to the table. “Join me for one, Dell.”

“Certainly, Tiger. We do not often get a chance to drink together, no?”

“Any news?”

“As I said, it is difficult. The man you want is... elusive. I have dealt with these types before as have you. They don’t frequent public places, preferring to stay in their holes until they are needed.”

“You seem to have the guy pinned down pretty well,” I said.

Dell gave me his usual generous shrug. “It is that I know you better, Tiger. The ones you want are generally of the same sort. They have nearly identical habits. Something in their mind makes them do it.”

“They have to come out once in a while.”

“Yes,” he said, “it is so. There are necessities and peculiarities that make them reveal themselves eventually. I have posted my people and if the one with the stiff finger or the round mouth shows himself, you will know about it immediately.” He raised his drink in a silent toast and finished it.

The waiter came in then, swept the curtains aside and Gretchen Lark stood there, a fitted white trench coat hugging the beautiful curves of her body like a glove. We both stood up and Dell nodded approvingly.

“Ah,” he said, “now you can be alone. The show will start shortly.”

“Come on in, kitten.”

She smiled, unbuckled the coat and tossed it over the back of the chair. The black sheath she had on had an open throat that cut down in a generous V, exposing the cleft of her breasts in a daring sweep you couldn’t take your eyes off.

“You look sexy,” I said.

“I’m supposed to.”

I signaled the waiter for two more drinks and lit her cigarette for her. Across the flame her eyes became serious. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because the last time...” she didn’t finish.

“I’m still here.”

“Did you... do what you had to do?”

“Somewhat.”

Gretchen exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching me intently. “Tiger... I hope it can always be like this for us. I... don’t know what these things are you do... I think I prefer not to know. But please be careful.”

“Relax.”

She reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were long and cool and there was a bluish pigment stain on the side of her palm she couldn’t get off.

“How is the picture coming?”

“One more sitting will finish it, but who knows when Mr. Selwick will be back? This will be a busy week-end for him.”

“He ought to be glad to take a break with you.”

She smiled and her teeth showed even and startlingly white. “He is. He’s a dear, you know. Whenever he isn’t feeling well he’ll tell me he’s ready for another sitting.” She giggled then. “It’s a wonder the painting doesn’t show him with a pill in his mouth.”

“Take that crazy smock off and he’ll get a better expression.”

“I don’t think his wife would appreciate it. She’s pretty starchy from what he tells me. Anyway, he just likes to sit there and think. Nobody bothers him, no phones ring and he makes a fine subject. Sometimes he just sleeps.” She squeezed my hand. “When am I going to paint you?”

“Nude?” I laughed.

“Naturally.”

“That’ll be the day,” I said.

From the orchestra came a weird chord of sound. The lights dimmed around the room and a tinted spot hit the floor. The dancers moved into it slowly, suggestively, preparing the audience for what was to come.

A Japanese team joined them, were followed by four Hawaiians who put more vibrancy in the hula than I had ever seen before. Then Dell’s big act came in with a muted roll of drums.

There was no music, just the steady tempo of the drums. The pair that strutted in dressed in the ordinary stage attire of the Parisian apache dancers, peak cap, rough jacket and red pants on one, a black slitted satin skirt and loose scarlet blouse on the other, was the tallest couple I had ever seen. Both were well over six feet four, both wearing smiles of the oddest nature I had ever seen.

The beginning of the act was almost commonplace and Gretchen said, “I thought this was supposed to be something special.”

“I don’t know the gimmick,” I told her, “but it will be. Watch.”

Bit by bit the tempo increased and the pair went through the classical motions of the act. Then they began to improvise. As the woman struggled with the man in the mock dance-fight, things began happening to their clothes. It almost began to look as if it were real and had they not kept such close rapport with the music it would have been believable.

Again, it was those at the tables below who attested to what the act was designed for. I could see them, tense and drawn, unable to look away even to touch their drinks.

The two dancers came at each other, hands grabbing and clawing. The girl was nearly naked, fighting her partner off, and as he stripped away the last shred of cloth from her body she grabbed his shirt, tore it, took him to the floor and in the melee of the struggle, to the rising sound of the drums, he lost everything he had on.

And then the specialty of the act was plain for all to see.

They were both women.

They were both contortionists.

I picked up my drink and watched Gretchen. Her face was livid and a small pulse beat showed near her temple. When Dell came through the curtain, motioned to me with his finger to follow, she hardly noticed him.

At the corner of the balcony out of sight from any of the others he leaned toward my ear and said, “One of my people has seen your man.”

“Which one?”

He held out a rigid forefinger. “He was first seen in a delicatessen store, then followed to a theater.”

“The Grenoble?”

Dell nodded soberly. “You have a good system of your own too, no?”

“Everything helps.”

“Indeed. He inquired of the attendant who was closing the theater if the picture would play tomorrow.”

Good boy, Churis. Nostalgia will kill you yet.

“He get an address?”

“Unfortunately, no. My... man... has a slight allergy for police and there was one standing on the corner. You see... he is wanted for something or other. He was forced to give up tailing him.”

“That places him in two general areas, but both close enough to be related. He’s not shopping in any one store apparently.”

“It’s still in the Village?”

“Looks that way.”

“Tomorrow is your day, Tiger?”

“All the way.”

I thanked him and went back to the booth. On the floor the dance had come to a torrid end that was unbelievable and the audience was sitting in shocked silence, but making no move to avoid the scene. They were enjoying every lascivious moment of it and when the lights darkened momentarily, to light up again and show the floor empty, you could hear the slow letting out of breaths long held in.

Gretchen had a look of guilt not quite concealed by the nervous smile she gave me. “That was terrible!” she said.

“I told you it would be rough.”

“But did you see them?” She pointed to the tables on the floor. “The faces on those women...”

“You should have looked in the mirror yourself.” I grinned.

“But... but they knew what to expect.”

“It takes all kinds to make a world, kid. I’ve seen far worse in the capitals of some of the most cultured countries in Europe.”

“And you get up and walk away from it!” She laughed behind her hand and said, “Did your friend offer us a room again?”

“It was better than that.” Before I had to lie to her I said, “Ready to go?”

“Whenever you like.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll drive you home.”

“For a nightcap?”

“It’s polite to wait till you’re asked. No, no nightcap. Tonight I want sack time and a chance to think.”

We told Dell good night and he called a cab for us. I gave Gretchen’s address, flicked a match for her cigarette and watched how her mouth formed around the tube, tinting it with her lipstick.

“Pretty,” I told her.

“Prettier than Edith Caine?” she teased.

“Different type.”

“She’s the jealous type. She doesn’t like to show it, but women can tell.”

“You mention I saw you?”

“Uh-huh. I call her every day anyway. I don’t think she was pleased at all when I told her.” She let out that silly laugh again. “Frankly, Tiger, I don’t care. Do you mind?”

“I’m here, sugar.”

She glanced at me sidewise. “Something always happens to your face when you speak about her.”

“Does it?”

“Were you... ever in love with her?”

I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling. “A long time ago. Twenty years.”

“But...” I could feel the puzzled frown on her face and it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.

“Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.”

The cab pulled to the curb and I told him to wait. I got out, helped Gretchen out and walked to the building with her. She turned, her lips moist and her eyes soft. “Thanks for the date, Tiger.”

I kissed her easily, feeling her mouth tremble beneath mine, the restraint inside her. “I’ll call you earlier the next time,” I said.

She winked and went up the steps. When the inside door closed I started back to the cab and had one second to spot the car coming down the street. It was like a whistle going off in my head, a sudden premonition of what was going to happen and I threw myself to the side and hit the pavement behind a pair of ash cans as the first stacatto thunder from a tommy gun rolled out of the window.

The slugs tore into metal, spraying a cloud of dust in the air, ricocheting off the walls of the building behind me. One tugged at my coat and another careened off the sidewalk sending a shower of stone into my face. I couldn’t move, couldn’t go for my gun without losing the protection of the cans. The cabbie didn’t wait for anything more. He jammed the cab in gear, pulled away from the curb with rubber burning behind him, slipped around the black sedan and raced for the intersection.

This time they wanted to make sure. The car screeched to a stop, the door opened and a guy cradling the tommy under his arm ran to where I was. He had his back to the others when I went for the .45, shielding me from anything they could throw. He didn’t think I could have been alive and didn’t have the gun up. My first shot hit the butt of the gun, slammed him halfway around with a hoarse yell of terror, the tommy sailing out of his hands.

I didn’t have to hit him again. The others did it for me. I dropped behind the cans when they started pumping shots at me and some of them caught the guy in the back and pitched him head first against the curb with a sickening thud. Somebody yelled in the car, the door slammed shut and it took off down the street with a foot jammed hard on the accelerator. The police car that suddenly nosed around the comer to block off the exit almost caught it. The driver wrenched on the wheel to get around him and couldn’t hold it. There was one awful moment when the sedan was on its two right wheels, then it went rolling across the intersection with glass and metal fragments spewing from the body and, with a ghastly explosion, burst into a billowing sheet of bright yellow flame that turned the night into day.

Both cops were at the pyre and the people pouring out of the buildings in odd pieces of clothing hurriedly thrown on were hurrying toward the wreck with morbid curiosity. Nobody paid any attention to me at all. Later the cabbie would make a report, but at least I had time to get out of there.

Thanks again, Rondine. You talk to Gretchen and know I see her on occasion. You plant your men where you know you’ll have a definite contact sooner or later and wait it out. But you’ve slipped badly, baby. Time was when you’d do the job yourself. I sure must be a sword over your head. Each minute I’m getting closer and closer, and now you’re running with your tongue hanging out. How will you feel now, doll? What will happen to your guts when you get the word that they didn’t make the hit? What will be your next move?

Three blocks away, I flagged down a cab and went back to my hotel. I cleaned the .45, stowed it away, took a shower and laid down on the sack. Only then did I get a sudden, chilling thought. I had those damn pellets in my pockets all the time and in that fall I took behind the garbage cans I could have blown myself into little tiny pieces.

I picked up the phone, dialed Gretchen’s number and, before it finished ringing the first time, she answered, her voice taut with fear. “Me, baby,” I said.

“Oh, Tiger!” There was relief now and for a moment she couldn’t talk. Then: “Right after I left you... I had just started upstairs...”

“I know. I was there.”

“You... are all right, aren’t you?”

“No trouble.”

She seemed to be crying but not wanting me to know it. “They were after... you, weren’t they?”

“It looks that way. Part of the business.”

“Tiger...”

“Come off it, girl... it’s the way I am and the way I’m going to stay. Quit worrying about me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“So I’m okay. I just wanted to let you know. Now get some sleep.”

I cut the connection so I wouldn’t have to go into any explanations. The next number was Charlie Corbinet’s. He answered with a sleepy hello, but came to fast when he knew it was me.

“They made another try, Colonel. You’d better check it out.” I gave him the details and added, “My guess is they’re all dead, but if you get make on them they’ll be part of that contract bunch from Chicago. You’d better alert Randolph on this and have them keep it quiet. The usual story of a mob rub-out might do it. They killed one of their own men when he got in the line of fire so the slugs will match their guns.”

“I’m afraid it will be more than that, Tiger. Randolph won’t stand still for any more of this. He’ll want to see you personally.”

“Randolph can go jump, Charlie. He plays it my way. This thing is tied up with the international picture and if he doesn’t want to blow the whole deal he’ll go along. If you have to, go over his head. You’ll get cooperation there if you need it.”

“That’s just what I might have to do.”

“Good. Randolph swung a tail on Edith Caine. You hear anything about it yet?”

“Nothing there. She’s been very quiet. All other leads petered out.”

“When the stakes are high you have to play the cards close to your vest.”

“Tiger...”

“What?”

“Monday the new proposition comes up in the U.N. There’s no time left any more.”

“There’s enough,” I said and hung up. I lay back in bed, switched the light off and stared into the darkness.

All I could see was Rondine’s face.

And the rest of her.

We were back in the loft again and she was naked and beautiful and she loved me. I could feel the satin of her skin and the soft-hard curves of her body and smell the delicious warmth of her body and knew what the explosion of love was like.