Down Among the Dead Men

XXVII

Berger squinted at her, gaped at her as if she were demented. His apple-red cheeks purpled. Veins traced dark threads on his forehead.

“Me!” he bellowed, — raised his arm to strike Joslin.

Koski stepped in, swiftly, got between them.

He was too close to use punches. There was only room for quick jabs, keeping Berger off balance.

“Yair! You!—”

A push.

“You answer the requirements—”

A shove, crowding Berger’s legs against the transom seat.

“—you found Merrill’s union cards on him. After you killed him—”

A prod in the stomach.

“—that gave you the idea of getting Ansel out of the country by switching identities—”

Another push.

“—you had a short-wave in your office. Or close to it—”

A blow, ramming Berger back on the padded seat.

“—I saw the glass insulator spools outside your window-sill this morning. And that office of yours has practically an airplane view of ships leaving the harbor.”

A hoarse groan from the Seavett’s fog horn made the saloon hideous with vibration. Joslin wrestled Fross into a corner on the chance he might interfere. Barbara tugged excitedly at Hurlihan: “Taurus! The bull! If I’d only been certain about Ansel’s birth hour... I’d never have made such a mistake, Clem!”

The Executive Director struggled to stand up. “Before you... get yourself... in any deeper, Lieutenant... better consider... who you’re... defaming.”

“I know who I’m talking to. Same guy Schlauff talked to. He catch you at the earphones when he walked into your office without knocking, tonight?—

He toppled the spy back against the cushions.

“—you slug him from behind?—

A straightarm to the chest.

“—after you went down in the elevator with him?—

An open hand wallop on the shoulder.

“—maybe you thought he was dead. After you cracked his skull!”

Berger held up his elbows to ward off Koski’s attack.

The Harbor Squad man cuffed him hard on the head. “Schlauff wasn’t dead. But he couldn’t have gotten up and walked. Not further than across Battery Park from the lobby of your office building to the Pier—

He hooked rapid-fire lefts to the side of the spy’s jaw; short, stinging blows that didn’t travel more than a few inches.

“—not with a fracture like that. This morning, in your office, I thought how nice it was for you to be right close at hand. In case we wanted you. We want you now.”

“Give me... chance to... disprove your... filthy lies.” Berger raged in cold fury.

“You’ll have your chance. Way we do things over here. You’d get a quick curtain if you’d pulled this in Himmlerland. Here you’ll have time to polish up that nonexistent alibi—”

The maniac howl of the siren on Penfield Reef punctuated Koski’s scorn.

“Who’s your Shipowners’ Council — other than you and Lawford Ovett? Only person who could prove you weren’t in Brooklyn Sunday afternoon is an old man who’s in the hospital now. You made a hell of a fuss about my not annoying this lifelong friend of yours, but still you didn’t mind roaring at me like a mad bull there in his bedroom last night. Gave me to cogitate at the time, that did... Now, the old boy’s in such shape he won’t be able to be a witness against you.” Koski held him by the throat.

“Witnesses!” Berger choked. “You talk... of witnesses... when you... have none...”

“Yair, yair. We got a few. Clerk at the drugstore where you bought the suitcase. Youngster at the pier where you dumped the suitcase in the river. Colored maid at the Bar-Nothing. And Ansel. You won’t be glad to know it — but we’ve got little Ansel.”

“Don’t even... know Gjersten... to speak to!”

“You spoke to him. On the phone at Rodd’s. Told him Merrill suspected how the sub commander knew ‘Captain Ovett’ was aboard the Mercede. Merrill probably came direct to you. Or phoned you at your club soon’s he hit town. You saw the fat was in the fire. You had to put him out of the way. Or your slimy game was up—

He shook the spy until the white hair flopped down over his eyes.

“You figured out how to decoy Merrill to Dommy’s place. You got over there, waited for him... and I don’t have to figure out how you spent your time that night!”

Berger screeched: “Fross! Hurlihan! Take him... off me... Take—”

Joslin snatched up the poker from the set by the grate. “Who wants it first! You’ll get it, if you cut in!”

None of the others moved.

Koski flattened his lips against his teeth. “You’re the sort of scum who always wants someone else to do your dirty work. Can’t stand to be told what you have to do. Not even by your own government. In wartime. Don’t mind bullying your hired hands. But have apoplexy when they tell you what they consider fair treatment. Want a country run your way or to hell with it. Well...” he put his face close to Berger’s. “You’re not going to run it your way. You’re not going to send it to hell. Not with all the brown-shirted, black-hearted bums behind you...”

Berger struggled desperately: “You’ve no proof! But I have. You can’t prevent me... common decency... my brief case.” He lunged in a frenzy toward the brief case he had set against the bulkhead.

Koski struck him in the face. The Executive Director fell back on the seat.

The Lieutenant picked up the brief case. “Don’t care for the tilings you do with luggage. What’s in this you want so bad?” He unbuckled the leather strap.

“Letter,” Berger spat out savagely. “From the... Navy Department. Read it... Then you’ll understand—”

The detective snapped the catch, opened the case.

Poong!!

There was a flash like a thousand photobulbs at once. A burst of dense smoke. No detonation. No concussion. But an instananeous sensation of terrific heat — numbing in its fierce intensity. It galvanized Koski into reflex action. He flung the case toward the companionway. A dazzling streak of molten metal like the tip of an acetylene torch showed through the trailing fumes.

The streak of incandescence flowed through the engine-room bulkhead as if it had been paper, left a blazing gap in the paneled pine. Through the aperture, for a split second, vivid blue sheeted out.

There was no time for anything except a frantic groping up the companion way to the deck-house. Berger got to the steps first, tore up on deck. Barbara got in Koski’s way long enough to balk him; then the Harbor Squad man waited until the others had all gone ahead of him.

On deck, the whistle went into frenzy with Cardiff hanging to the cord. The Vigilant came thundering up on the starboard quarter. Flame breathed up the companionway. Something said, “Huff” in a tremendous voice that seemed to ring in Koski’s ears for ten endless seconds. The transom and after deck of the yacht opened up like a wet cardboard box.

While he herded the others over into the Vigilant’s cockpit, Koski scanned the water. He could hear Berger swimming. In the fog there was no possibility of seeing him.

“Come on, Steve!” Mulcahey yelled. “I got them all aboard here. Except the one that jumped. Come on!”

“Hold it, Irish.”

The yacht’s deck tilted sharply to port. The bow canted up. A long tongue of orange leaked out over the water. The fog was suddenly luminous — white steam in the brilliant glare of a giant headlight. There was a curious rushing sound in the air. For a hundred feet around the burning yacht, the sea blossomed out in a quivering carpet of orange and yellow. The gas from the tanks had spread.

Twenty yards astern of the sinking Seavett a white spot rose above the surface. A hand shot up into the air, clutched flame.

Berger screeched once, went under.

The hand showed again for an instant. The head didn’t.

Koski pointed. “Jam her full reverse, Joe! Watch it! Don’t slash us with the wheel. I’m going for him!”

He jumped in, feet first, the way a waterman does when debris floats on the surface.