Lingo

CHAPTER VIII. GANGDOM’S DEAL

TRIP BURLEY had led Hawkeye a circuitous journey after his departure from the garage behind the Hotel Thurmont. But the trail had ended where Hawkeye had expected it to finish: in Chinatown.

There, Trip had gone into the shop called the Silver Dragon. Hawkeye, in turn, had ducked through the secret passage to take his place behind the slitted wall. Once more, The Shadow’s agent was spying on the racketeers and mobleaders who had assembled at Koy Dow’s.

Trip had been the last to arrive. He had just entered when Hawkeye took his post. All those who had been at the former meeting were here with one exception. Ping Gradley was not present. That was a matter of course. Ping’s career had ended on the night he met The Shadow.

Blitz Schumbert was in charge of the meeting. The pug-nosed racketeer was rumbling in his accustomed basso. No hedging tonight. Blitz was calling for Rook Hollister’s doom.

“We’ve given Rook his chance,” Hawkeye heard Blitz declare, “and we’d have done better if we hadn’t. Maybe your racket would still be good, Louie. Maybe we’d have Ping here with us.”

Louie Caparani was sitting, his face toward Hawkeye. The Shadow’s agent saw a hard smile flicker on Louie’s lips. When Louie spoke, his words were blunt and harsh.

“Ping’s dead,” affirmed the dark-visaged racketeer. “My game’s as sour as yours, Blitz. It’s even been bum business for me to go near the night club men that I had approached.

“Even the guys that had already lined up are going back on me. Phone calls — from Brooklyn, Harlem, yeah, and from Canarsie — telling me to drag out the coin machines before they chuck them in the alley.

“Karl Durmsted told everything he knew. The cops figure every coin machine in town must have been planted by me. Those machines are hot; and the birds that have them know it. They want to give me the go-by.”

“Like with my laundry racket,” put in Blitz, sourly. “I had some good lineups. All it needed was a blowoff to make them jump through the hoop—”

“And the blowoff didn’t come. But it’s worse with my racket, Blitz. I had things moving; little places were with me. I was building for the big ones. Now the works is wiped out.” Louie paused. His eyes were glaring with a venom as they swept around the group. Mobleaders were restless as the racketeer’s eyes met theirs. Hawkeye saw Trip Burley flinch.

It was almost that Louie was accusing someone present. His gesture was a dominating challenge to the entire group, Ping’s death had made Louie vengeful; and these rogues knew it.

One man alone was indifferent to Louie’s glare. That was Lingo Queed.

HAWKEYE, noting Lingo, observed a far-away gaze in the fellow’s eyes. Louie Caparani spotted it also. There was harshness in his tone as he called Lingo to task for not listening.

“Well, dummy?” queried Louie, glaring at Lingo. “Did you hear what I’ve been saying? I mean you, Lingo.”

“I heard you!” Lingo swung his staring gaze toward Louie. “I know Ping’s dead. I’ve been wondering why.”

It was Blitz Schumbert who snorted.

“Wondering why?” demanded the laundry racketeer. “I’ll tell you why. Because Rook Hollister is a palooka. Because he let too many guys in on what he was doing. Spilled it that Ping was going up to the Casino Rouge.”

“Did he?” queried Lingo. “Say, Blitz, that’s a rare one. Seems to me most of us here are pretty close to Rook. But it was news to all of us — except Louie — when Ping said that he was going up to the Casino Rouge.”

“Say — what are you getting at?” Blitz’s tone carried a challenge this time. “You mean somebody pulled a double cross? Sent a mob in there to knock off Ping Gradley? Just to make it look extra bad for Rook?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” replied Lingo, casually. “But I wouldn’t call it a double cross, either. The skids were already under Rook. I wouldn’t blame anybody for getting impatient.” Sudden silence followed Lingo’s statement. Mobleaders were nodding unconsciously. Trip Burley was fidgety; he was waiting for a chance to speak. Blitz Schumbert was glowering more fiercely than before.

Louie Caparani alone was serene. It was he who broke the silence.

“There may be something in what Lingo says,” observed Louie suavely. “But I wouldn’t call it a double cross, either. Just the same, nobody can figure that I pulled anything phony, because I’d have been a sap to queer my own racket when it was just about set to go through.”

Mumbles of approval. There was logic in Louie’s statement. Only one man took it with ill grace. That was Blitz Schumbert. Rising, he drove a huge fist down upon the teakwood table. With scowling, furious lips he stormed at Louie Caparani.

“Arguing that way,” rumbled Blitz, “you’re trying to pin it on me, Louie! By saying that you’d have laid off because your racket might be good, you’re making it look like I’d have made trouble for Ping just because my racket was already sour.”

“I’m blaming nobody,” retorted Louie. “Ping’s dead. Rook’s through. That’s all. We might just as well know where we stand for a start. We’re going to pick a big shot to take Rook’s place after we’ve rubbed Rook out. And the guy we pick—”

“I get it,” snorted Blitz. He glared about the group, then centered finally on Louie. “I started this move against Rook and by rights I’d be the new big shot. But you’ve been waiting for a chance to make it look like I was framing things my way!”

“I didn’t bring this up,” remarked Louie, calmly. “It was Lingo here who mentioned it and you can’t blame him, because the idea was probably in everybody’s head. Ping was one of us. It was kind of tough on him to have to go out. He was too good a guy to be the goat for Rook. But it’s over now. Let’s forget it.”

BRIEF silence followed. Trip Burley was eager. Things had started the way he wanted without the necessity for a suggestion. It had proven unnecessary for Trip himself to start the rivalry between Blitz and Louie. Now that the argument was on, Trip’s cue was to push it. But before he had a chance to speak, another statement came from Blitz.

“Look’s like you’re trying to do me out of something, Louie,” rasped the pug-faced racketeer. “And the way the boys here look” — Blitz shot a glance about the group — “I’d probably lose out if it came to a vote. Well, I’m going to show you I’m on the level. I’ll step out of the running. I’ll stick to my racket instead of taking Rook’s place. And that leaves it up to you, Louie, to do the same.”

Louie was fox enough to take the situation with good grace.

“All right, Blitz,” he agreed, “we’re both out. Maybe we ought to pick some guy between us. Or, if you want, we can leave it to the crowd here. Let them vote for who’s to be big shot.”

“Yeah?” scoffed Blitz. “Well, who are we goin’ to pick? Who’s going to be voted on?” He was looking about the tense group as he made his query. “We’ve got a swell bunch here. Great guys, all of them. But there’s nobody in it as deep as you or me, Louie. It’s going to be tough to make a fair pick.”

Though blunt, Blitz could be diplomatic. He had proven it by his statement. It showed favor to none and friendliness to all. The crowd was all with Blitz; and Louie, also tactful in a different way, was prompt to seek the same good will by nodding his approval of Blitz’s words.

It was a perfect block. One that might have produced a breakup of the plotters; but which both Blitz and Louie had handled in neat fashion. On the surface, it looked as though they had given no special opportunity to any one of their confederates.

Actually, however, the two racketeers had unwittingly played straight into the hands of one man present.

Trip Burley had come here with secret orders from Rook Hollister. Had Lingo Queed not chanced to assert himself, Trip would have had to do so. Saved of his trouble, Trip was now in an ideal position to spring the real gag that Rook had ordered.

So far out of the picture, Trip knew that everything was right for him. Blinking as he licked his lips, Trip half arose from his seat and waved for attention from the throng.

“Blitz is right,” commented Trip, “and so is Louie. Great guys, both of ‘em. They want to pick the right bird for Rook’s job, and I’ve got a way to help ‘em do it. They want a gink who’s done som’thin’.

“Well, there ain’t none of us have. Leastwise, nobody’s done enough to make him look like a big shot. But there’s som’thin’ any one of us can do that’ll make him the right guy for the job.

“I’ll tell you what it is. Supposin’ all of us would like that job. And only one of us can get it. All right, give the job to the bird that rubs out Rook Hollister!”

ASSEMBLED lieutenants had taken Trip’s opening statement mildly. But Trip’s final words were a payoff. For the first time at this meeting, all the plotters came through in enthusiastic unison. Growls of approval; buzzed tones of elated conversation — these were proof to Trip that his suggestion had struck home.

Blitz and Louie recognized it also. A grin showed on Blitz’s ugly face as the big racketeer thrust his mammoth paw toward Louie. With a suave smile, Louie extended his own hand and received Blitz’s grip.

Cleverly, the tactful pair who dominated this meeting were stealing the limelight that Trip had momentarily occupied.

This sign of agreement between Blitz and Louie brought new enthusiasm from the outfit. Lingo Queed, whose suggestion had opened the discussion, was now forgotten in the rush.

Slouched forward on the table, Lingo was smiling sourly while he nodded his approval of the scheme.

Trip Burley, who had brought the matter to a head, was also forgotten. Trip, however, was smirking with the air of a child who had made a smart comment in the presence of elders. He watched while Blitz brought down a smashing fist that served as a speaker’s gavel.

“Louie and I have settled it,” announced Blitz. “The bloke that gets Rook gets his job too. It’s open for anybody — but the guy that does it has got to prove it. And get this: the sooner somebody knocks off Rook Hollister, the better.”

Lieutenants arose. Some were talking to each other. Others were grim and meditative, as though thinking how they might take steps to gain the coveted post that Rook Hollister still held.

It was plain that Blitz and Louie intended to hold the position that they had gained, no matter who might eventually become the big shot. The successor to Rook Hollister would always have the threat of a governing committee that would pass upon his actions.

HAWKEYE, in his lookout, had no chance to listen in further. Trip Burley was already going out. It was Hawkeye’s task to find out if Trip intended to go directly back to Rook Hollister.

Hawkeye sneaked down the spiral stairway.

When he reached the street, Hawkeye had little time to wait. Trip came strolling past; The Shadow’s agent followed. Tonight, Trip’s course was more rapid and direct than before. Previously, Trip had been anxious to deceive any chance followers. This time he did not seem to care if any one spotted his destination.

The trail led to subway instead of elevated. Trip rode northward on an express while Hawkeye traveled in another car. Trip alighted at a station only a few blocks from the Hotel Thurmont. Leaving the subway, he started quickly in the direction of Rook Hollister’s abode.

Hawkeye, following, saw Trip go into the garage that housed the secret elevator. Hawkeye decided that Trip’s haste must have been inspired by the belief that Rook would be in immediate danger. Moving away from the garage, Hawkeye headed for a telephone to put in a call to Burbank.

After that, Hawkeye would come back to watch the garage. Thinking things over, Hawkeye believed that Trip had made his suggestion regarding the proposed murder of Rook Hollister in order to impress the other lieutenants that he was really with them. It looked like a clever stunt to cover his spying.

Hawkeye had another hunch; he believed that by returning promptly to the garage he would be in time to catch Rook Hollister making a getaway. It would then be Hawkeye’s job to trail Rook.

Hawkeye was usually correct in his analyses of underworld activities. On this occasion he was totally wrong. Hawkeye had not gained a single inkling as to Rook Hollister’s proposed plans and Trip Burley’s part in them.

Already a startling scheme had reached its culmination — one that was as insidious as it was cunning. Not only had Rook Hollister’s purpose baffled Hawkeye; to date it had deceived The Shadow as well.

But The Shadow was roaming the underworld. Evidence would turn up that he, only, could get to.