Goldfish Have No Hiding Place

8

It was a little after 22.00 when I arrived at the Half Moon bar. When Freda had left me, I took a taxi to my bank where they had an all-night safe deposit service. The film she had given me had already caused Gordy’s death. I wasn’t taking any chances with it. It wasn’t until I had locked it safely away that I was able to relax. Sometime tomorrow I would hire a 16 mm projector and take a look at the film.

I found Brenner nursing a beer in the upstairs room. He looked sourly at me as I shut the door.

‘I’m on early duty,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get some sleep. What’s cooking?’

I sat at the table, facing him. I had to confide in someone and who better than a disinterested cop?

So I told him about Freda, about finding the film in Gordy’s desk drawer, how I was slugged, how the film had gone missing, how she had told me there was a second film and it was now in my bank.

He sipped his beer, smoked, stared down at the table and listened. By the time I had finished, tiny sweat beads made his face glisten.

‘Do you think Creeden’s got it?’

‘I hope so. If he has it, he’ll destroy it.’

He thought about this, then wiped his hand over his face. ‘As long as that film exists, we both are in trouble.’

‘I know that.’

We stared at each other.

‘What about this second film? When are you looking at it?’

‘I’ll hire a projector tomorrow.’

‘I want to see it.’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ I looked at the dirty white wall facing me. ‘I could bring the film and the projector here in my lunch hour.’

He shook his head.

‘I’m not off duty until four.’

‘Come to my new apartment?’

Again he shook his head.

‘I’ll tell you something, Manson. Goldstein has his eye on you. Watch it. You could be tailed. If he saw you and me together, it would sink me.’

‘So what do we do?’

He thought about this, then said, ‘I’ll check if you’re being tailed. Give me your telephone number. If you’re in the clear, I’ll call you around midnight. I’ll say “Roger” and hang up. If you’re being tailed, I won’t call. If you aren’t, we meet here* tomorrow night. Bring the film and projector... right?’

‘Okay.’

He lit another cigarette and brooded for a moment, then he said, ‘Let’s look at this set-up. Let’s run through the suspects. There’s you, me, Creeden and Latimer. Your gun killed the creep so that puts you way ahead of the rest. I’m thinking as Goldstein would think. But if this hustler is giving it to you straight, the second film is the money maker so that puts Creeden who has that kind of money in the photo... right?’

I thought about Creeden. He was rich, tough and ruthless: not a man who would stand for blackmail. If his wife had been stealing and if Gordy tried to squeeze him for something like a million dollars, Creeden could turn killer. He had had the opportunity of stealing my gun, shooting Gordy and returning it.

But how did he know I had the gun?

I asked Brenner.

‘Pistol permits have to be cleared in this city by an acting magistrate,’ Brenner told me. ‘That’s what Creeden is.’

‘His signature wasn’t on the permit.’

‘He doesn’t sign it. It’s a matter of form. He okays it and the Chief of Police signs it.’

‘So he would have known I had the gun.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I ran into him coming away from Gordy’s house on the night of the murder. I ran into him when I got knocked on the head and lost the film. Damn it! It points to Creeden.’

Brenner showed his teeth in a cynical smile.

‘Try to prove it.’

I scribbled down my new telephone number and gave it to him.

‘I’m going back to my apartment now. Call me.’

‘If you don’t hear from me by midnight, you’re being tailed.’

Leaving the Half Moon bar, I walked to the end of the street before I found a taxi. I gave the driver my new address and looked through the rear window to see if I could spot anyone following me. At this hour the traffic was heavy. All I saw was a mass of cars behind the cab. Again I had a feeling of someone breathing down the back of my neck and I felt very alone.

When the cab stopped outside my apartment block, I paid the cabby, then took the elevator up to my new home. I turned on the light and looked around. Strange surroundings and again I felt lonely.

Whoever Jean had found to arrange things in the apartment had done a good job. There was even a vase of roses on an occasional table, but they didn’t help me.

I went into the bedroom, stripped off my jacket, dropped it on the bed, then went into the bathroom and washed my hands. Was this going to be my future life? I wondered, drying my hands on a towel. Alone? I thought of Jean. If she had been here, how the scene would have changed! How wonderful it would be!

I wandered back into the living room and sat down. I now thought of the film I had locked away in the safe deposit box. If, when I ran it off, it showed Mabel Creeden stealing, what was I going to do? Hand it over to Goldstein? Thinking about this, I decided no. Creeden, fighting back, could involve me too and Linda’s stealing would be exposed. At the moment, Chandler was leaning over backwards for me, but I was sure he would give me the gate if Linda’s stealing became news.

I would keep the film as an insurance. Someone had the reel of tape with Gordy’s voice threatening me with blackmail. This someone probably had the film showing Linda stealing. If this someone was Creeden, then he would hold onto this evidence in case Goldstein caught up with him. A clever defence attorney could shift the killing on to me.

I looked at my watch. The time was now 23.20. I would sit up until midnight, hoping Brenner would call. I lit a cigarette and tried to relax, but thoughts kept moving through my mind.

Then the front door bell rang.

I stiffened, hesitated, and after a long moment, I got to my feet, went into the lobby and opened the door.

Lieutenant Goldstein stood in the corridor. Behind him was a bulky man with cop written all over him.

‘I saw your light, Mr. Manson,’ Goldstein said smoothly. ‘May we come in? This is Sergeant Hammer.’

I stood aside.

‘I was just going to bed, Lieutenant, but come in. Can I offer you a drink?’

‘No, thank you.’ He entered the living room, glanced around, nodded as if with approval. ‘Nice place you have here.’

‘Just moved in. How did you know where to find me?’

He moved to a chair and sat down. Hammer went to the table and sat by it.

‘We have ways and means,’ Goldstein said and smiled his thin smile. ‘I tried to contact your wife, Mr. Manson. Apparently she is touring Mexico.’

‘Is she? I’m arranging a divorce, Lieutenant. Frankly, I couldn’t care less where my wife is right at this moment.’

I sat on the arm of a lounging chair.

‘Is that what you wanted to see me about?’ I asked, after a long pause.

‘No... no...’ He regarded me, his little eyes probing. ‘That gun of yours still worries me, Mr. Manson. When it was issued to Mr. Borg for you there was a box of slugs to go with it... fifty slugs. Right?’

I felt a slight tension.

‘That is correct.’

‘You still have the box of slugs?’

‘Yes.’

‘They should have been returned.’

‘In the confusion of the move here, I forgot them. If you will tell me to whom I should return them, I will do so.’

‘We won’t bother you with that. Let me have them now.’

‘You don’t mean you have come here at half past eleven to collect a box of cartridges, Lieutenant?’

‘I would like the slugs!’ There was a cop snap in his voice.

I shrugged and went to a closet. After a search, I found the box and handed it to him. He in turn handed it to Hammer who examined the cartridges.

‘Six missing,’ he said in a hard, flat voice.

‘I loaded the gun,’ I explained. ‘If you remember, the gun was stolen. The cartridges went with the gun.’

‘Yes.’ Goldstein stared down at his hands. ‘Mr. Manson, are you acquainted with Freda Hawes?’ He looked up sharply and his eyes probed. It was a sucker punch and it had me floundering for a brief second as he meant it to do.

‘Yes.’

I was back on even keel now, but the damage was done. Creeden had warned me about Goldstein. He had slipped in a mean one and he had got his reaction.

‘When did you last see her, Mr. Manson?’

I felt it time to assert myself.

‘Why should I answer that question, Lieutenant?’

He leaned forward, staring intently at me.

‘She was shot dead this evening. A cartridge case, matching these issued to you, was found by her side. I have reason to believe the gun that killed her also killed Gordy: the gun you allege was stolen from your car. So I ask again, when did you last see her?’

A long silence built up in the room while I stared at Goldstein. I felt a chill crawl over me and I felt blood leaving my face.

He and Hammer watched me the way a cat watches a mouse.

‘She’s dead?’ I finally managed to say.

‘That’s right. She’s dead.’

I hadn’t lived in the tough newspaper world for nothing. Somehow I pulled myself together and got my mind working.

‘Well, for God’s sake!’ I said. ‘I only saw her a couple of hours ago!’

‘You saw her... two hours ago?’

‘That’s right.’ I was thinking fast now. ‘I’ll explain. Ever since Gordy’s killing, I have been wondering why someone should have killed him, as you have been. I edit a successful magazine. Gordy’s killing is topical news so I decided I would investigate this blackmail angle you suggested to me. The only lead that looked promising was this woman: Freda Hawes. I wondered if she might tell me more than you, so I telephoned her. She was scared and planning to leave, but she wanted a getaway stake. She said she had information she would sell for fifteen hundred dollars. This sounded interesting. I got the money and met her at The Annex bar. We talked. She was half drunk and frightened. She said someone might kill her as Gordy was killed. She told me Gordy had a film showing a number of women, living at Eastlake, stealing and he had been blackmailing them. She wanted to know if she told me where the film was, would I give her money. I have had a lot of experience interviewing people and I was satisfied she meant business. I gave her the money and she told me the film was in a hidden compartment in Gordy’s desk drawer. There is a little knob under the desk that releases the partition in the desk. We met at nine-fifteen and she left me twenty minutes later with the money. I was going to call you tomorrow to tell you to check the desk. I’m pretty sure when you do, you will find the film.’

I saw Hammer was busy writing in his notebook. Goldstein, looking thoughtful, was stroking his hooked nose.

‘What did you do, Mr. Manson, after she left you at nine-forty?’

Watch it, I told myself. I had to keep Brenner out of this.

‘I went to the Half Moon bar,’ I said. ‘I arrived there just after ten.’

‘Why did you go there?’

‘Looking for information. Freda Hawes mentioned that she used the bar. I was looking for background material. I talked to the barman, but she was either lying or he wasn’t passing out information. I got nothing from him so I came back here.’

He studied me, then nodded.

‘You didn’t think to tell me this when I arrived, Mr. Manson.’

‘You didn’t give me much chance, did you?’

Again he studied me, then said, ‘You gave her fifteen hundred dollars for this information... in cash?’

‘Yes. She put the money in her handbag. She was also carrying a Pan-Am overnight bag.’

‘When she was found, she had no handbag... no overnight bag.’

‘If you could find the film, Lieutenant, it could solve your problems.’

‘That’s right.’ He rubbed his hooked nose and then got to his feet. He started to move to the door. Sergeant Hammer picked up the box of cartridges and started after him. Goldstein paused and stared at me. ‘Mr. Manson, it would help this investigation if you were frank with me. Was Gordy blackmailing you?’

‘Suppose you wait until you get that film, Lieutenant?’ I said. ‘If he was blackmailing me, I wasn’t the only one.’

‘You will be seeing me again, Mr. Manson,’ he said and they went away.

I waited until I heard the elevator descend, then I sat in a chair, feeling shaky.

Goldstein hadn’t been talking for the sake of hearing his own voice. He had said the gun that had killed Freda was the gun issued to me by Borg. He, like Brenner, had identified the cartridge case. Jean had told me she had dumped the gun in a sack of refuse. She and I had been satisfied the gun was lost, but it couldn’t have been. For some time now I had had the feeling that someone was breathing down my neck. Suppose that someone had followed me to Jean’s place, then followed her, seen where she had dumped the gun and as soon as she had gone, had collected it? This could be the only explanation. Someone on the second film who was desperate to get that film. So desperate, he/she had been watching Freda. Seeing her with the Pan-Am bag, he/she had decided she had the second film in the bag, shot her with the same ruthlessness as Gordy had been shot: using my gun.

I felt cold sweat on my face as I thought of this. It seemed more than likely that the killer was the one who had broken in and taken the reel of tape that would hook me to Gordy’s killing. It also pointed to him as the man who had hit me over the head and taken the first film.

My mind turned to Creeden. He fitted my picture of a ruthless killer. I looked at my watch. The time was five minutes to midnight. I knew the Creedens kept late hours. Crossing to the telephone, I called his number.

His wife, Mabel, answered.

‘Hello, Mabel, this is Steve Manson,’ I said. ‘Sorry to call so late. Is Mark there?’

‘Mark is down town somewhere,’ she told me. ‘He should be back any moment now. He had a business dinner. I can’t think what’s keeping him.’

‘I just wanted a word. I’ll call him tomorrow.’

‘Steve... I’m so sorry about Linda.’

I had to listen to ten minutes of her yakking, but finally cut her short.

‘Well, do come and see us, Steve.’ She gave her high pitched laugh. ‘After all, single men are always in demand.’

I said I would and hung up.

It didn’t mean much, but at least, Creeden had been in the city around the time Freda was shot.

I did some more thinking without getting anywhere, then seeing it was now fifteen after midnight, I remembered Brenner telling me he wouldn’t telephone after midnight if he had proof that I was being tailed. So this meant a couple of trained cops were planted outside my building.

I was sure, I told myself, that the second film held the key to all this, but if I was now going to be tailed how was I going to get it, hire a projector and see the film without two cops busting in?

Going to my bank wouldn’t be suspicious. I’d take my briefcase with me. I remembered I was going to talk to Ernie about investments. When I left.him, I would go down to the vault and get the film. It would be unlikely my tails would know about the vault.

Freddie Dunmore had a photographic studio. He did a lot of artwork for me. That too wouldn’t be suspicious. He would have a 16 mm projector. I could talk him into letting me have his projection room for ten minutes.

Thinking about this, I decided it was the only way, but remembering Gordy’s killing and now Freda’s killing, I would start the day with the gun I had forgotten to give Max.

It was now pushing 01.00. I went into the bedroom and turned down the bed. I took a quick shower, got into my pyjamas and climbed into the strange bed. I realised as I lay there, with the bedside lamp making shadows that after all I did miss my own home. This was something I had to get used to.

If only Jean was by my side, I thought, stretching out in the king-size bed, what a difference all this would make! I wondered about the man she had chosen and I felt a pang of jealousy. Who knows? I told myself, he might get bored with her or she with him and then, maybe I would still stand a chance. As I snapped off the light, I told myself that she was the one woman who meant anything to me. I lay in the darkness and thought of her. Then I remembered something my father told me when I was a kid. My father and I had got along fine together. He was a gentle, understanding man but he hadn’t been wonderfully successful. He had said, ‘Look, Steve, here’s something to think about. If you ever really want something, never let go. Hang on and keep hanging on and sooner or later if you hang on long enough you’ll get it.’ He had smiled and ruffled my hair. ‘The trouble with me is I’ve really never wanted anything bad enough.’

Well, I wanted Jean. Remembering my father’s words, I decided to hang on. With that thought in my mind, I slipped into sleep.

Dreams are strange things. I kept dreaming that I wasn’t alone. I dreamed a shadowy figure was looking down at me as I slept. This figure was moving around me: dark, with no outline: neither man nor woman: just a silent, sinister figure and I knew, in my dream, this shadowy figure meant me harm.

I woke with a start. All I could hear was the traffic passing below. I found I was sweating. Then I heard the elevator descend and I looked at the lighted face of the bedside clock. It was 03.40.

I turned over, pulling the bedclothes around my shoulders.

But I didn’t sleep anymore that night.

On my way to my office the following morning, I kept looking in my driving mirror, but the traffic was too heavy to spot a tail.

Knowing that I was now being watched gave me an uneasy feeling. I told myself that as soon as I had dealt with the mail, I would leave Jean to take care of the office and go over to the bank for the film. With any luck, before lunchtime I would know who was on the film.

But it wasn’t to be. When I walked into the office where Judy was already at work, she swung around in her typing-chair.

‘Morning, Mr. Manson. Jean called. She’s sick.’

I came to an abrupt standstill.

‘Isn’t she coming in?’

‘Oh, no, Mr. Manson. She’s in bed. Something she ate last night.’

‘Is she bad?’

Judy nodded.

‘I think so, but she says she’ll be okay tomorrow.’

I realised it would now be impossible for me to leave the office until 18.00. If Chandler should call and found both Jean and myself absent there could be trouble.

‘I’ve opened the mail, Mr. Manson, and Miss Shelley from Secretarial Services is already here for dictation,’ Judy said.

‘Fine... thanks.’

Somehow I got through the morning. It was just as well I hadn’t taken a chance and had gone to the bank for Chandler came through soon after 11.00. He thought it was time we began to research Senator Linsky. When I told him Max Berry was already working on it, he was pleased.

Judy got me a sandwich lunch. I told her to give me a direct line and go for her own lunch. That left me alone in the office. She hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when the telephone bell rang. I heard coins dropping into the box, then Brenner came on the line.

‘Listen, Manson,’ he said, ‘you’re being tailed. Don’t underestimate these two. They know their job, so watch it.’

‘Give me a description of them,’ I said. ‘I guessed as you didn’t call last night I was being tailed, but I haven’t spotted them. It’d be a help to know their car and what they look like.’

‘Dark blue Mustang XP 55001,’ Brenner told me. ‘Taylor is tall, thin with dark crew cut, wears sports clothes. O’Hara is short, thickset, red hair, wears dark clothes and a dark blue hat, but it’s my bet you won’t spot either of them: they are professionals.’ A pause, then he asked, ‘Have you looked at that film yet?’

‘I can’t until tonight.’

‘You’ll have to tell me about it. I’m not taking the chance of being seen with you. You know you’re in trouble? I thought you told me that gun was lost.’

‘I thought so too. It was dumped in a sack of rubbish. Someone must have seen it dumped and collected it.’

Brenner grunted.

‘Goldstein’s working on it. From tomorrow, your apartment phone is going to be tapped.’

I stiffened.

‘Is this line clean?’

‘He can’t do anything about that. He’s too scared of Chandler to tap anything belonging to him.’

‘He hasn’t a case against me, has he?’ I said, feeling my hands turning damp.

‘Not yet, but he’s got his teeth into you and he’ll need shaking off. Take a look at that film and I’ll call you this time tomorrow,’ and he hung up.

I got up and went to the window and looked down on the busy street some eight storeys below. It took me five minutes watching before I spotted Taylor. Without Brenner’s description he would have been an anonymous man, but there he was, propping up a fire hydrant while he read a newspaper. I studied him, made sure I would recognise him anywhere, then looked around for his buddy, but O’Hara was not to be seen. He was probably covering the lobby.

Then the telephone bell started up and I was back in the business of producing the magazine.

Around 14.15, I called Jean’s apartment.

When she answered, her voice rather far away, I said, ‘I’m sorry about this, Jean. How do you feel now?’

‘I’m recovering. I swear I’ll never eat a clam again as long as I live. How are you getting on?’

I told her Judy had everything organised.

‘Do you feel like a visit?’ I went on. ‘I could come around after six and bring you something.’

‘Thank you. It’s kind of you but my tummy just couldn’t face any visitors.’

I felt a pang of disappointment.

‘I can imagine.’ A pause, then I said, ‘Jean, you remember dumping something in a sack of rubbish?’

‘Yes.’

‘Someone must have followed you and found it.’

I heard her catch her breath.

‘Not now! This line goes through the switchboard. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and she hung up.

I sat staring at the telephone for a long moment, then replaced the receiver. As I did so there came a tap on my door and Max Berry came in.

From then on until after 17.00, he and I worked on the material he had dug up on Senator Linsky. This was sensational stuff and I told him he had done a fine job. He grinned and said he would now get the article written.

Because of the time I had spent with him, I found I had more work left on my desk than I had bargained for. I was still hard at it when Judy looked in to ask if it was all right for her to go home. I looked at my watch and saw it was 18.30.

‘Sure. I’ve talked with Jean. She thinks she’ll be in tomorrow. Thanks for all you’ve done, Judy.’

She looked happy.

‘Have you nearly finished, Mr. Manson?’

I had still some printers’ proofs to go through.

‘About an hour.’ I got up and locked the office door after her, then I went back to my desk and got down to work again.

It was after 19.00 before I had finished. I called Freddie Dunmore at the photographic studio.

‘You just caught me, Steve,’ he said. ‘I’m in a rush. My wife’s throwing a goddamn party and I swore by my back teeth I’d be there on time. What’s cooking?’

‘I want the use of a 16 mm projector, Freddie.’

‘No problem. I’ll have it sent over to you tomorrow morning. How’s that?’

‘I want it tonight.’

He groaned.

‘Well, okay. I’ll leave it with...’

‘I also want to borrow your projection room tonight,’ I broke in.

The magazine account with Dunmore was substantial. He was in no position to refuse me.

‘God help me! Okay. I’ll call Betty... she’ll kill me.’

‘Can’t you leave the key somewhere? I could be late. I’ll run off the film, lock up and return the key. How’s that?’

‘Can you handle a projector?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, okay. For Pete’s sake, don’t forget to lock up. There’s a lot of expensive equipment here I wouldn’t want to lose.’

‘Where do I find the key?’

‘On the ledge above the door. It’s my spare. God! I’m already twenty minutes late! See you, Steve,’ and he hung up.

Now I had to lose those two cops. Remembering Brenner’s warning, I decided not to rush it. I had most of the night ahead of me.

As I started to the door, I paused. Two people had been killed because of the film I was going to collect. I could make a third. I went to the closet and got out the gun that Max Berry hadn’t taken away. I loaded it, put on the holster, adjusted my jacket, and turned off the lights. I locked up the office, then carrying my briefcase, I took the elevator to the lobby.

A short, thickset man with red hair, wearing a dark blue hat was examining the indicator board. He didn’t look in my direction. He was a pro all right. Even when I paused on the street and glanced back, he was still examining the board.

I got in my car and edged into the traffic. Three minutes later, I spotted the blue Mustang, two cars behind me. It was easy when you knew who and what to look for.

I drove to the Imperial hotel and went into the grill room. Henri, the Captain of waiters, knew me well and welcomed me. I asked for a corner table and sat with my back to the wall, facing the entrance. I ordered the special, then lit a cigarette and toyed with a dry martini while I waited.

After some minutes, Taylor came to the entrance, glanced around, his eyes seeming not to notice me, then he moved back into the lounge.

Henri served me and as trade was quiet, he stood around, saying nice things about the magazine. I was glad to have him. Once again Taylor looked in as if he were expecting a guest, then moved out of sight.

‘Henri,’ I said, when I had finished the meal, ‘I’m on an assignment this evening for the mag. It’s something red hot. A couple of newsmen from the Sun are tailing me, hoping to get a lead.’ I took a ten spot from my hip pocket and slid it to him. ‘Is there a way out the back?’

He loved this. His eyes sparkled.

‘Through the service door, Mr. Manson, straight ahead, down some steps and the door facing you. It’s bolted but not locked. It takes you onto Granby Street.’

‘Take a look in the lounge. There are two of them: one tall, dark with a crew cut and the other short, red hair. If they look busy, rub the back of your neck.’

‘Sure, Mr. Manson.’

The service door was two yards from me. I pushed back my chair, my heart thumping and watched Henri wander to the entrance. He paused, holding a sheaf of menus as if looking for clients, then he rubbed the back of his neck.

I was out of my chair, through the service door where I nearly cannoned into a waiter, carrying a loaded tray, and down the stairs, eased back the bolt and was in the hot night air.

I had all the luck in the world. An empty cab cruised towards me. I bundled in and told the cabby to take me fast to the Plaza movie house which was within easy range of my bank.

I sat back, breathing heavily. At the end of the narrow street, I looked through the rear window, but the street was deserted. I felt pretty sure I had shaken them off.

Now for the film.

The clerk at the reception desk gave me a smile of welcome as I crossed the lobby.

‘Hello there, Mr. Manson. Do you want something from your safe?’

‘That’s right. Can I go down?’

‘Sure. Charlie is down there. He’ll take care of you.’ As I started for the stairs, leading to the vault, he said, ‘Oh, Mr. Manson. I nearly forgot. I have a telephone message for you.’

I stared at him.

‘For me?’

‘Came in half an hour ago.’ He handed me a slip of paper.

‘If you want to call now, Mr. Manson, there’s a booth over to your right.’

I went to the booth, put in coins, dialled and waited.

Brenner’s voice came on the line. He said: ‘Who’s that?’

‘Manson. What is it?’

‘This evening Taylor reported to Goldstein that you are being tailed by two of Webber’s men. They are smart operators, but Taylor spotted them. Have you any idea why they are tailing you?’

This information so shocked me, I was unable to think. I felt that chill again.

‘Manson?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘So you have four pros on your tail. You’d better watch it. Looks like you’re in real trouble.’

I pulled myself together and forced my mind to work.

‘Can you give me a description of them?’

‘Sure. I worked with them before they quit to hook up with Webber. Meyer is big, around forty-five, has a broad white scar on his left cheek he got when arresting a junkie. Freeman is big, around fifty and he limps. He had a car smash.’

Had these two men followed me to the bank? Why were they following me... the film? I felt horribly alone as I stood, sweating in the airless booth.

‘You got the film yet?’ Brenner asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘Well, watch it,’ and he hung up.

I leaned against the wall of the booth and thought. I was sure I had shaken off Taylor and O’Hara, but I had no idea if I had shaken off Webber’s men. This was no time to take chances. I certainly wasn’t going on the streets, carrying that film. But what to do? After a few moments, an idea occurred to me. Leaving the booth, I went down to the vault.

Charlie, fat and elderly and always ready to oblige, got to his feet as I crossed the floor.

‘You’re late, Mr. Manson.’

‘Yes. I want to open my safe.’

He went with me, turned the first lock with his passkey, then moved away while I opened the second lock with my key. I took out the carton of film.

‘Charlie... have you a big envelope to take this?’ I showed him the carton.

‘Sure... right here.’ He produced an envelope. I took the film cassette out of its carton and put it in the envelope and sealed it. A bit of flat lead which Charlie probably used as a paperweight caught my eye.

‘Want to earn fifty dollars, Charlie?’

His eyes popped open.

‘Try me and see, Mr. Manson.’

I scribbled Max Berry’s address on the envelope.

‘Could you deliver this yourself tonight?’

He squinted at the address.

‘Why, sure, Mr. Manson. That’s not too far from my home, but I won’t be off duty until two.’

‘That’s okay. Look, Charlie, this is top secret. It’s to do with the magazine. Don’t carry it in your hand. Put it inside your jacket. Understand?’

His eyes popped again, but he nodded.

‘Let’s see you do it.’

He unbuttoned his grey uniform jacket and pushed the envelope inside.

‘Fine. Keep it like that until you see Mr. Berry.’ I gave him a fifty-dollar bill. Then I picked up the small bar of lead. ‘Can I have this?’

‘Why, sure, Mr. Manson.’

I put the lead bar in the empty carton to give it weight, then I put the carton in my briefcase.

‘Okay, Charlie... I’m relying on you.’

‘You can, Mr. Manson. This envelope...’ He tapped his chest, ‘will be with Mr. Berry by half past two.’

I went up the stairs and back into the call booth. I called Max. He answered after a delay and he sounded sleepy.

‘Max! This is Steve! A messenger from my bank is bringing you a sealed envelope. The contents are dynamite. Two people have been killed because of it and I think Wally got beaten up because of it. Hide it somewhere in your place where it can’t be found.’

‘For God’s sake!’ Max now sounded very much awake. ‘What is it?’

‘I can’t tell you. Don’t look at it. The messenger will be arriving around two-thirty. Stay with it until I telephone you tomorrow from the office.’

‘Okay, Steve.’

Before leaving the booth, I eased the gun in its holster and satisfied myself it would come out fast, then holding the briefcase firmly under my arm, I walked out into the night.

Moving fast down the street, I looked anxiously for a cab, but this time I had no luck.

More than any time before, I felt someone breathing down my neck. I kept looking over my shoulder. At this time of the night the down town section of the city was almost deserted.

Then it happened.

I didn’t even see them.

I felt the briefcase jerk away from under my arm and I received a stunning, chopping blow at the back of my neck.

I was still on my hands and knees, trying to clear my head when I heard a car start up and drive away.