Miss Callaghan Comes to Grief

1

August 16th, 10.15 p.m.

LITTLE JOE walked into the pool−room at the corner of 29th Street. He was pleasantly conscious of the sudden hush that greeted his entrance. Even the guys at the tables paused in their game and looked at him with interest.

He was something to look at now. His suit was heavily padded at the shoulders and its colour compelled a second glance. When Little Joe first saw it hanging in a window of a Jewish tailor his mouth watered. He’d never seen a suit quite like it. He knew there couldn’t be another on the streets that came anywhere near it, so he went inside and bought it. Also he was persuaded to buy a pair of yellow shoes, a bowler hat that only just fitted him and a necktie that, to say the least, was completely surrealist.

The barman wiped down the counter and smiled at him. “Why, Joe,” he said, “you’re lookin’ pretty good tonight.”

Little Joe adjusted his bowler. “Like it?” he said. “I bet you ain’t seen anythin’ quite like this, huh?”

The barman said truthfully he hadn’t. His tone was so dubious that Little Joe scowled. “Ain’t nothin’ the matter with it, is there?” he said. “I gave a heap of jack for this outfit.”

The barman told him hastily that it was swell.

Little Joe relaxed a trifle. “Gimme some Scotch,” he said. “Not every guy could wear a suit like this,” he went on, pouring out a liberal shot; “you gotta have somethin’ to get away with it.”

A big fat guy, who had been playing snooker over the other side of the room, suddenly laid down his cue and came over. He owned a bunch of taxi−cabs that beat up a good business in the lower East side of the town. His name was Spade. Little Joe knew him well enough to nod to.

Spade was looking worried. When he got close to Little Joe he said, “I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you, buddy. Come over to the table, will you?”

Little Joe followed him to a corner of the room and sat down.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, taking off his hat and brushing it carefully with his sleeve. “What do you want to see me about?”

Spade rubbed his hand over his fat features and shook his head. He certainly looked as if he was in a lot of trouble. “What’s come over the town, Joe?” he said.

Little Joe stared at him. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Spade fingered his glass. “Where’ve the girls got to?”

Little Joe was non−committal. “What girls?” he asked.

Spade shook his head again. “You know. There ain’t a floosie poundin’ a beat this side of 27th Street. A couple of months ago you couldn’t take a step without fallin’ over them. Well, where’ve they gone?”

Little Joe grinned. “Can’t you find any comfort?”

“It ain’t that,” Spade said. “It’s ruinin’ my business. I’ve gotta find out what’s wrong.”

“What do you meanruinin’ your business?”

“What I say. When one of those floosie’s found a sucker she took one of my cabs. My cabs were kept mighty busy doin’ that businessnow it’s all gone.”

Little Joe looked perplexed. He hadn’t thought of it in that light. Spade was a member of the Hack Drivers Union and he’d got a certain amount of political influence.

“What makes you think I know anythin’ about it?” he said cautiously.

“I use my eyes and my ears. They said Raven’s at the back of the vice ring now. I know you’ve done a lot for Raven. You’re in the dough now. Anyone can see that by the fancy uniform you’re wearin’”

“Let me tell you,” Little Joe said heatedly, “this suit cost me”

“Skip it,” Spade said roughly. “What’s goin’ on?”

Little Joe hesitated. “Maybe the girls’ve got scared,” he said at last.

“If they’ve got scared, someone’s scarin’ them. You’d better lay off, Joe, an’ you can tell Raven to lay off too. No one’s goin’ to bust up my business without hearin’ from me.”

“Take it easy,” Little Joe said hastily. “I don’t know a thing about ithonest. I’ll have a word with Raven. I can’t promise anythin’. He’s a hard guy.”

Spade got to his feet. “So am I,” he said shortly. “Tell him that, too.”

Little Joe watched him walk across the room and resume his game. He took a little splinter of wood from his pocket and began to explore his teeth thoughtfully. Then he got up and walked out into the dark night again.

He knew Spade was a dangerous guy to cross. He’d got a lot of pull and he might make things difficult for them. Well, anyway, that was Raven’s look−out. He wasn’t paid to strain his brains.

He made his way in the direction of St. Louis Hotel. The fact that he had now plenty of dough did not allow him to take a taxi. He had been so long used to being short that he could not bring himself to throw money away on unnecessary luxuries.

It was a hot night, dark and moonless, and Little Joe moved slowly, his eyes searching the shadows. At the head of the street he noticed a woman step out of the darkness and stop a guy who was hurrying towards the main street. The guy paused, then waved his hand impatiently and went on.

Little Joe grinned. Some dame was ignoring the warning he had circulated through the bookers. He put his hand in his pocket and his fingers touched the little bottle he always carried around with him. He took the bottle out and carefully removed the glass stopper. He put the glass stopper in a small metal box. Then, holding the bottle between two fingers, he sauntered slowly towards the woman.

As he drew near he could see she was scared. She was watching him as he came on. He slowed down and looked at her, his free hand adjusting his tie.

She must have thought he was all right, because she smiled at him. He could see her now. She was only quite a kid. She looked a little shabby, but she wasn’t a bad looker. Her professional smile wasn’t very gay.

He said, “I bet you’re a naughty girl.”

She came close to him. “Do you want a naughty girl?” she said, smiling with her mouth only. “I’ve got a little place just round the corner.”

“What’s the big idea?” Little Joe asked. “I’ve walked two blocks an’ you’re the first girl I’ve met.”

He saw the little twitch of panic at her mouth. “II don’t know,” she said. “Anyway, you’ve found me”

“Yeah, I’ve found you all right. Maybe the other girls think it healthier to stay at home,” Little Joe said, tossing the vitriol into her face. He heard the little hiss as the acid travelled through the air. Then she began to scream horribly.

Little Joe broke into a run. He knew the district very well, and by doubling down an alley and then a side street he reached the St. Louis very quickly.

Raven would never let any of his mob come in through the front entrance. They all came in by the staff door. He knew that there’d be a lot of trouble from the hotel if Little Joe kept coming in and out in that suit of his.

Little Joe rode up in the small elevator, very pleased with himself. How he dealt with that floosie would get around. The girls would think twice before coming out. He rapped on Raven’s door, and Maltz let him in.

“Boss in?”

Maltz nodded. “Yeah,” he said in a bored voice; “he’s playin’ with his toys.”

Little Joe grinned. “I’ll get his mind on to somethin’ else,” he said, moving towards the big double doors at the end of the passage.

“Not a chance. That guy’s very busy right now.”

Little Joe opened the doors and stepped quietly into the big room.

Raven had spread himself. The suite at the St. Louis was costing him plenty, but it did him a lot of good. It had increased his own confidence.

He lay on the floor in a red silk dressing−gown. All around him was a complicated network of railway lines. Miniature stations, signals, buffers, engine−sheds and the like surrounded him. Trains, dragging long lines of carriages, flashed over points and rattled over the gleaming metal track. They disappeared beneath furniture, only to reappear again, running in an endless circle.

He lay there, his hands on a master switch, controlling the current that sent the trains forward. A limp cigarette hung from his thin lips, and his eyes were cloudy and intent on the fast−moving little trains.

“What is it?” he said suddenly. “One of these days you’re goin’ to collect a handful of slugs if yon sneak up on me like this.”

Little Joe grinned nervously. “Sure, boss,” he said.

Reluctantly Raven closed the switch, bringing the trains to a standstill. He rolled over a little on his side so that he could look at Joe. “Nice outfit, ain’t it?” he said with a proud smile.

“Yeah.” Joe wasn’t very interested. “It’s all right.”

Raven turned back again and set the trains in motion. “Well, what is it?”

“A floosie on 7th Street was peddling. I gave her a little tonic.”

Raven grunted. “You gotta watch those dames,” he said. “Another month an’ we’ll have it where we want it.”

“Before that, boss,” Little Joe said, sitting on the arm of a big overstuffed chair. “The guys are yappin’ like hell now.”

Raven directed a train to a station and threw the switch. He leant forward to uncouple it. “Always wanted an outfit like this when I was a lad,” he said. “I never got anythin’ when I was a kid.” His voice was suddenly very bitter.

Joe didn’t say anything.

Raven started a complicated move of shunting the train to the engine−house. Little Joe couldn’t understand why he didn’t just lift the train off the track and put it in the shed. He thought it would save a lot of time.

“Well, what is it?” Raven repeated for the third time.

“Spade’s bellyachin’.”

“So what?”

“He says we’re ruinin’ his taxi business.”

Raven at last got the engine in the shed. “That’s too bad,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette in an ash−tray by his side. Then, as an afterthought, he said, “Are we?”

“His taxis take the floosies to their joints,” Little Joe explained.

Raven paused and thought. “I don’t want trouble with Spade,” he said at last. “He’s a tough egg, ain’t he?”

“You bet he is,” Little Joe said.

Raven began to unload some tiny milk churns on to the platform. “I’ll get Lefty to take care of him,” he said. “We ain’t had any shootin’ in the town yet, have we?”

Little Joe looked worried. “Gee!” he said. “We don’t want to shoot Spade.”

“Nice to hear your views,” Raven said, recoupling the line of trucks; “I’ll make a note of that.”

Little Joe shifted uneasily. “You’re the boss,” he said hastily.

“Sure.” Raven turned the switch and the trains began to move slowly along the track.

Little Joe waited for a little while, and as Raven continued to ignore him he went out, closing the door softly behind him.

Raven turned his head and looked at the closed door. A cold, far−away look came into his eyes. “So we don’t want to shoot Spade?” he said softly. “These guys are gettin’ soft.”

2

August 17th, 11.25 a.m.

WHEN GRANTHAM rang the bell the negro doorman let him in.

Grantham was looking old and tired. He asked for Carrie in a voice tight with nerves.

Joe showed him into a little reception−room. “She’ll be right down, boss,” he said. His big eyes searched Grantham’s face questioningly, but Grantham turned away and felt for his cigarette−case.

When Carrie came in she found him pacing up and down the room, smoking furiously. She shut the door.

“What’s the matter?” she asked abruptly. She always liked to get straight to the point.

Grantham motioned her to a chair. “Things ain’t goin’ right,” he said shortly. “I don’t know what the hell Raven’s playin’ at.”

Carrie rested her big hands on her knees. “He’s a bad man,” she said. “It was wrong to let him take over.”

Grantham threw away his cigarette impatiently. “Don’t go over that again!” he snapped. “I couldn’t stop him. He’s playin’ some deep game, and I don’t know what’s at the back of it.”

Carrie shook her head. “One of his hoods threw vitriol over a hustler yesterday. All the girls are too scared to work. It’s crazy, Grantham. Most of the business is done on the streets. It’s only a certain class that come to the houses.”

Grantham nodded. “We’re losin’ money,” he said. “I’m goin’ along right now to have it out with him.

Before I see him I wanted to know about the Perminger girl. She all right?”

Carrie smiled. “Sure she’s all right.”

Grantham stroked his jaw with a hand that shook a little. “That dame may be very useful to us if Raven doesn’t behave,” he said. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Carrie nodded.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Do you want to see her?”

Grantham hesitated, then he stood up. “No. It’s better not for me to see her yet. I’m relyin’ on you, Carrie.

You’ve got to keep her the way we want herdon’t forget that.”

“It’s all right.”

“He hasn’t been here, has he?”

“I haven’t seen him. Lefty’s been in. He looked the girls over and took all their names.”

Grantham’s eyes snapped. “Did he see the Perminger dame?”

Carrie nodded. “Sure. He went all over the house. He came in unexpected. I couldn’t get her out of the way.”

“Did he speak to her?”

“He spoke to them all.”

“Did she behave all right?”

“I was right behind her.” Carrie gave a cruel little smile. “He just thought she was one of the girls.”

“You’re sure? She didn’t do or say anythin’ that’d give a guy like Lefty ideas?”

“It was all right, I tell you,” Carrie said a little shortly.

Grantham sighed. “I’m tippin’ you, Carrie. If Raven knew about this, he’d finish both of us.”

Carrie shrugged a little. “Maybe it’d be better to get rid of her,” she said. “It’s a pity. She’s a nice bit of meat.”

Grantham suddenly stiffened. “You ain’t usin’ her?”

“Why not? She uses food, don’t she? I don’t have dead heads around here.”

“You mean you’ve hired her out?”

“Only to the guys who I can trust. She doesn’t know who’s a stranger or not. If she opens her mouth she’ll get another lickin’. You’d be surprised how she hates a lickin’.” Carrie laughed.

Grantham shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he said.

“I know what’s right,” Carrie returned. “She’s lost all her starch nowthat was the only way to make her lose it.”

“All right, I’ll leave it to you,” Grantham said, opening the door. “I’ll go and see Raven.”

When he had gone Carrie went upstairs. She went into the big reception−room, where the girls were getting ready for the evening’s work.

Lulu was painting her nails. Julie and Andree were doing some limbering−up exercises. Fan, her face screwed up with concentration and the tip of her tongue protruding, was writing a letter. In the far corner of the room Sadie sat in a yellow wrap, reading the newspaper.

They all looked up when Carrie came in. Fan sneered and returned to her letter. Carrie was aware of the long look of hatred that she got from Sadie. That didn’t worry her any.

She said, “YouI want you.”

Sadie put down the newspaper and got to her feet. Her face was now a hard, cold mask. “What is it?”

“Come on out here. I want to talk to you.”

They went out together. Sadie followed Carrie into her own little room.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Carrie said with a little grin. “Well, that’s all right. But you’d hate the guy who got you here a damn sight more, wouldn’t you?”

Sadie stood by the door. She didn’t say anything.

Carrie said, “Do you know why you’re here?”

Still Sadie didn’t say anything. Her eyes smouldered with bitter hatred for the mulatto.

“You’ve seen too much,” Carrie told her. “You saw the guy who killed Mendetta.”

Sadie flinched.

“Yeah,” Carrie went on, “he’s a bad guy. He runs this house. One of these days, baby, you’re goin’ to get a chance of puttin’ that guy where you want him. That’ll make you happy, won’t it?”

Sadie clenched her fists. “One of these days,” she said, “I’m goin’ to even the score out all round. You don’t think you can get away with this for ever. You’ve turned me into one of these women because I haven’t got the guts to fight you, but I’m not forgetting. Make no mistake about that.”

Carrie laughed. “Go back to your room. You’ve got to work tonight.”

Sadie went out silently.

3

August 17th, 10.30 p.m.

LEFTY walked softly down the dark alley, his hands in his coat pockets, his hat drawn well over his eyes, and a cigarette glowed in the darkness, moving up and down as he shifted it in his mouth.

Spade’s big garage ran half the block, and Lefty was walking down the alley that ran immediately behind it. As he came to a lighted window he threw his cigarette away. Stretching up, he took one quick look into the room, saw Spade sitting there checking a ledger, and grinned.

He went on until he came to the back door and let himself in. He moved quietly down the dark passage.

Faintly he could hear the crews in the garage washing the cabs down. He could hear the murmur of voices and an occasional laugh.

He knocked gently on Spade’s office door and went in. Spade looked up sharply. His face cleared when he saw Lefty. “Come in,” he said. “Raven sent you?”

Lefty shut the door softly. “Yeah,” he said. “You got a little trouble, ain’t you?”

“Sit down. I’m glad you’ve come. It’s time we had a talk. Why didn’t Raven come himself?”

“He’s busy,” Lefty said, still standing. “You know a lot, don’t you?”

Spade shrugged. “You mean about Raven? Why, sure. It’s my job to know things. Raven’s been behind Grantham since Mendetta was bumped. I know that too.”

Lefty nodded. “Bright boy,” he said. “What else do you know?”

Spade reached for a pipe and began to load it. “I know, for some reason or other, Raven’s driven the girls off the streets. It ain’t that he wants a clean town. Raven ain’t that sort of a guy. He’s done it for something that’ll fill his pockets, but I don’t like it.”

“Too bad,” Lefty said, and smiled mirthlessly.

Spade struck a match and for a moment his big face was hidden behind blue smoke. “I want to know why,” he said.

“You know a lot. Why don’t you find out?”

“If you’re goin’ to take that angle, I will,” Spade snapped, his face darkening. “Listen, Lefty, this isn’t the way to take it. I’m willin’ to work with you boys, but I can’t let you ruin my trade. What the hell is all this about? Can’t you see you ain’t doin’ yourselves any good clearin’ the streets like this?”

“Raven thinks it’s a grand idea.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m tellin’ you it’s gotta stop.” Spade thumped his fist on the desk. “I thought you’d come along to talk business.”

Lefty shook his head. “Nope, we can’t help you, buddy. The girls stay off the streets.”

Spade nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Then you can’t blame me if it gets tough for you boys. I ain’t givin’ way on it. I can’t afford to. I’ll give you till next week. If the girls ain’t workin’ then I’ll have to start somethin’.”

Lefty took a blunt−nose automatic from his pocket. “You’ll just be a big smell in the ground, buddy,” he said evenly. “Raven sends this with his love.”

The automatic cracked once. Spade half rose from his chair. A big blot of blood suddenly appeared between his eyes. He spread out his hands and then fell forward over the desk.

Lefty ran over to the window, threw it up and climbed into the dark alley. He ran very quickly to the car parked at the end of the alley. Maltz swung the door open for him and Little Joe started the car rolling. Long before Spade had been found the car was out of sight.

Maltz said, “Did you get him?”

“Sure. He went out like a light. Raven was right. He knew too much,” Lefty said.

Little Joe said uneasily, “There’ll be a hell of a row about this.”

“Aw, shut up!” Lefty snarled. “It’s time we got tough in this burg. I’ve been fed up just hangin’ around chasin’ dames off the street.”

“Where the hell’s it goin’ to get us?” Little Joe said, heading towards the St. Louis Hotel. “Ain’t we got enough dough?”

Maltz said very softly, “Turnin’ yellow, Joe?”

Little Joe said hastily, “No. I was just wonderin’.”

“Well, don’t wonder, then.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Raven was waiting for them. His thin, wolfish face was hard and set as they came in. “Well?” he said.

Lefty nodded. “It’s okay,” he said. “Nobody saw me.”

Raven took a turn up and down the room. “We’re goin’ to get goin’ now,” he said. “Grantham’s been in.

He’s yellin’ about bad business. I want you and Maltz to come with me. We’re goin’ to look Mendetta’s houses over.”

Lefty nodded. “I’ve got the list of dames in each house,” he said. “Shall I bring it along?”

“Of course.” Raven went to the door. “Let’s go.”

In the car Lefty said, “Carrie’s house is the best one.”

Raven nodded. “We’ll go there.”

When they ran up the steps the negro Joe thought they were the cops. He rang the alarm bell. Carrie appeared on the scene, her eyes snapping with fury. When she saw Lefty she ran towards him. “What the hell’s this?” she said angrily. “Do you want to ruin my business?”

Lefty pushed her on one side. “Keep your chest in place,” he said. “The big shot’s come to look the joint over.”

Carrie turned quickly. She had never seen Raven, although she had heard a lot about him. She said, “You can’t come in here. I’ve got my customers to think of. The girls are busy.”

Raven looked her up and down. “Clear all your customers out,” he said shortly; “I want to look the girls over. Come on, jump to it.”

Carrie said, “Like hell I will. You come in the morning.”

Raven looked at Maltz, who swung his fist, hitting Carrie very hard on the side of her jaw. She went down in a heap on the floor.

“You heard me the first time, nigger,” Raven said.

Carrie got slowly to her feet. A livid mark showed on her yellow skin. She turned and went away slowly.

Raven said, “The girls I select will be taken to Franky’s place. The other girls can pack up and get out. Do you understand that?”

Maltz nodded. He went to the front door and signalled.

A large van drew up to the kerb and four men got out. They stood waiting.

It was early. There were only three clients in the house. They came downstairs, looking scared.

Raven opened the door for them. “It’s all right,” he said with his crooked grin. “Just checkin’ up. You boys can get off home.”

They looked at him furtively and left quickly. Carrie stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting.

Raven nodded at her. “Bring all your girls down here fast,” he said.

Carrie went upstairs again. A few minutes later she came down, followed by seven lightly clad girls.

Raven went into the reception−room. “Come in here,” he said.

The girls all looked at Carrie, who was nearly speechless with rage. “Go on in. Didn’t you hear him?” she snarled.

The girls went into the room and stood staring at Raven. Lulu fluffed up her hair. “Take me, darlin’,” she said. “I’ll show you some tricks.”

The other girls giggled.

Raven said, “Shut up!” Then he turned to Maltz. “Are they all here?”

Maltz took out his list and checked the numbers. “One ain’t,” he said briefly.

Raven looked over at Carrie. “I said all of them.”

Carrie hesitated a moment, then went upstairs again. After a few minutes Sadie followed her down.

Raven’s eyes lit up a little when he saw her. This one was good, he told himself. When he looked at her he saw her go suddenly very white and her step falter. Carrie took her arm and shoved her forward. She muttered something that Raven didn’t hear. He made a mental note to look into this. Sadie stood beside the other girls, her dark eyes big with fear, gazing steadily at Raven. It made him a little uncomfortable.

He looked away from her. “I’ve got somethin’ to say to you girls,” he said abruptly. “I’m Raven. I run this racket. There’s goin’ to be some changes. Get into a line, you girls. Snap to it!”

A little buzz filled the room as the girls stared at him. Maltz stepped forward. “Quiet,” he said loudly. “Get into a line. Go on, damn you, get into a line!”

They slowly formed into a line and stood giggling and nudging each other.

Raven lit a cigarette. “Take your things off. All of ’em. Your stockings as well.”

“I ain’t takin’ orders from a bum like that. What’s the game, Carrie?” Lulu shrilled.

Raven made a little sign to Maltz. Maltz stepped forward and dragged Lulu out of the line. He slapped her twice across her face with his open palm, before she could dodge, and then he shoved her back into the line again.

She was so dazed by the heavy blows she could only rock on her heels, blinking away the tears that had started to her eyes.

Raven said, “The next dame who cracks wise will get a boot. Get undressed.”

Muttering angrily, the girls took off their things. Raven stood by watching them. “Now stand still and let me look at you.”

Sadie was the only one who didn’t undress. Maltz took a step towards her, but Raven stopped him. He looked the girls over as if he were inspecting cattle. Then he grunted: “They’re all right. Take the lot.”

Little Joe, who was standing by the doorway with a large embarrassed grin on his face, clapped his hands.

“Break it up, girls,” he said. “Get dressed quick. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

Raven beckoned to Maltz. “What’s that dame’s name?” he asked, pointing to Sadie.

Maltz consulted his list and then told him.

Raven nodded. “Take her to the St. Louis. I want to talk to her. Lock her up. See she doesn’t start anythin’, an’ keep your hands off her.”

Maltz looked hurt. “Gee!” he said. “I could use a honey like that.”

“If you touch her, I’ll fix you,” Raven snarled. “Get on with it.” He turned to Carrie. “Get all these girls upstairs. Get ’em dressed to go out. Tell ’em to bring stuff for a night and you come yourself. Hurry.”

Carrie opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. She shepherded the girls out of the room.

Upstairs, she turned on Sadie. “You’re not to tell that guy you know him,” she said. “Do you understand?

When the time’s right, then you can fix him… not before.”

Sadie didn’t say anything.

Carrie went on: “If you blow the gaff I’ll come after you. I’ll find you okay. Then I’ll do things to you until you wish you were dead. I mean that.”

Sadie flinched away from her and continued to dress. The other girls were puzzled and angry. All their questions were met with a stony stare from Carrie. All she would say was, “He’s the bossask him.”

Downstairs, Raven jerked his head to Lefty. “Come on, we’ve got a lotta houses to look at before we sleep.

These guys will look after the girls. Watch that pippin, Maltz.”

Maltz nodded. “You bet,” he said sourly. “I’ll watch her.”

Raven and Lefty went out and drove away.

Little Joe came up to Maltz. “This racket’s gettin’ interestin’, ain’t it?” he said. “That’s the best bit of striptease I’ve seen for a long time.”

Maltz ignored him.

4

August 18th, 2.10 a.m.

RAVEN walked into the lobby of the St. Louis Hotel, followed by Little Joe and Lefty. He went immediately to the elevator which took him up to his suite.

Little Joe leant against the wall of the cage, his eyes half closed and a look of tired satisfaction softening the lines of his face. “I ain’t seen so many floosies all at one time in my life,” he said. “Gee! Some of them were hot numbers.”

Lefty shrugged. “So much meat to me,” he said. “I’ve got no use for it when it’s tossed at me like that.”

“Shut up, you two!” Raven said savagely. He had had a trying evening, but the first step of his scheme was successfully launched.

They went into the suite. Maltz was sitting in a large chair, dozing. He started up as they came in.

Raven looked at him hard. “She all right?”

Maltz rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said; “she’s sleepin’ in there.”

Raven nodded and sat down. He tossed his hat on to the table. “Get me a drink, one of you,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

Little Joe went over to the wall cupboard and began to fix drinks.

Raven stretched. “Right now,” he said, “there ain’t a girl hustling in this town.” He said it with great satisfaction. “Over at Franky’s we’ve got a hundred and forty picked hustlers. The rest of the stuff is finished.

Tomorrow we’re calling a meeting of bookers. I’m goin’ to explain what they’ve got to do. In another week we’ll reopen the houses. Then we’ll make money.”

Maltz took a whisky from Little Joe. “What are the bookers supposed to do?”

“They’re goin’ to work for a change,” Raven said grimly. “We’ve got twenty houses. Each house can take thirty hustlers. We’ve got a hundred and forty already. They got to get me four hundred and sixty new girls.

They’ve got to get them fast. I’ve been working this out. We can get girls from Kansas City, Jefferson City, Denver, Springfields, and Cleveland. Once I get these houses started we’ll organize houses in these towns as well. In every case we’re goin’ to secure a monopoly. Hustlers are not to work on the streets. We can’t check on their earnings if they do. This’ll take time. It’s goin’ to be big. The bookers will have to organize themselves and have a clearing−post. This can be at Sedalia. I don’t care how they get the stuff. That’s their look−out. The girls will only stay at one house for a week, then they’ll be moved on to another house. Grantham’s got to do some work. I’m takin’ him out of the 22nd. Any guy can run that joint. Grantham’s got brains, but he’s lazy.

You three guys have got to get busy too. Give me two months and you’ll all be makin’ more dough than you’ll know what to do with.”

Little Joe’s face fell. Actually he was already getting more money than he knew how to spend.

Raven finished his drink and stood up. “Tomorrow you guys beat up the bookers and take them along to Franky’s. We’ll have a general meeting and then I’ll explain to the girls what’s comin’ to them. Get some of the boys. I want the tough ones. Tell ’em to bring clubs. We might have a little trouble with some of those dames.”

The three nodded and left him.

Raven wandered up and down the room, thinking. He knew he would have to play his game very carefully.

It was worth the risks. If he slipped up on the Mann Act he was sunk.

He tossed his cigarette away and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He didn’t feel like sleep. His brain was too active. Quietly he crossed the room and opened the door of the spare bedroom. His hand reached out and groped for the light switch.

Sadie said out of the darkness, “Who is it?” Her voice sounded husky with fear.

Raven turned on the light.

She sat up, holding the sheet close to her chin. Her eyes looked very dark and big and her face was the colour of chalk.

Raven came and leant over the bedrail. “I want to talk to you,” he said quietly.

There was a long pause, then he went on, “How long have you been hustlin’?”

She didn’t say anything.

He came round and sat on the bed. “If you don’t answer my questions I’ll hurt you,” he said. “How long?”

She looked at the thin face, the cold, merciless eyes and the paper−thin lips. She said, “I was forced into this two months ago.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t Carrie want me to see you?”

“I don’t know.”

Raven said, “Get out of bed and take that thing off.”

Sadie shook her head wildly. “No…” she said, clinging to the sheet. “Leave me alone.”

“Do it,” Raven said.

“No. You’re not touchin’ me. I’ll screamI’ll scream….”

Raven hit her on the side of her jaw very hard. Her head snapped back and she went limp, falling against the top of the bed with a little thud.

He got off the bed, went into the other room and found some cord. He came back again, stripped off the sheet, turned her over on her face and tied her hands behind her. He turned her again and gagged her with her stockings that hung over the bedrail. Then he fastened her ankles securely to each of the bedposts. By the time he had finished she had recovered from the blow. Her eyes pleaded, but he didn’t look at her.

He went out and came back after a few minutes with a small bottle containing some colourless fluid. He sat down beside her on the bed. “After tonight you’ll do anything that I tell you without hesitation. I ain’t got time to persuade you. I like a dame to obey. You’ll obey after this.”

He took the cork out of the bottle and, bending over her shrinking body, poured the fluid on to her nightdress, low down.

She jerked as the cold fluid ran down her body. A strong smell of turpentine filled the room. Raven got up and replaced the cork. “It’ll take a couple of weeks to get over this,” he said with a little grin. “But I can wait.

I shan’t have to do it again.”

She lay very still, a puzzled look in her eyes. She couldn’t understand why he had done this. She felt nothing, only the cold wetness on her skin. She could understand pain, she could understand beating, but this defeated her.

He made sure that her bonds were tight, testing the knots carefully. He adjusted the gag and then he straightened.

The puzzled look in her eyes suddenly gave way to fear. The fluid began to penetrate. She twisted this way and that as the horrible burning sensation began to grow.

Raven nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, turning out the light, and went away, leaving her writhing in the heavy darkness.

5

September 7th, 2.20 p.m.

WHEN Special Prosecutor Dewey said, “Don’t you remember any testimony about Hines and the poultry racket there by him?” Jay Ellinger dropped his pencil and sat back with a gasp.

Hines’s defender, Stryker, was already on his feet, shouting, “I demand a mistrial. Your Honour! Your Honour! I demand a mistrial!”

Ellinger whispered to the Tribune reporter, “It’s over. They’ve been waitin’ for a loophole like this.”

The Tribune reporter shook his head. “Naw,” he said, “they’ll go on. This goddamn’ trial will last for years.”

But Ellinger knew in his bones that Dewey had made just that one little slip that would give the Judge the chance of getting Hines freed. Although the trial dragged on over the week−end, by Monday everyone knew that Dewey’s tremendous work of bringing Hines to trial had to be started all over again.

Ellinger got his copy off and then immediately caught a train back to East St. Louis. He was determined to resign before he could be sent on some other job that would keep him from the work he had been impatiently waiting to tackle.

Since he had been away he hadn’t heard one word from Benny. He had been so busy attending the Hines trial that he had not been able to check up with the home town news. Now, as he stepped out of the train, he could hardly contain his patience to get started.

He took a taxi to the Banner offices and went immediately to see Henry.

He burst into the office. Henry gaped at him. “What the hell are you doin’ here?” he snapped. “I want”

“Save it,” Jay said quickly; “I’m through. I quit. I resign…. Get it?”

Henry relaxed in his chair. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You gone crazy?”

Jay sat down. “No,” he said, “I’m just through. I thought I’d get that in before you gave me another little job out of town. Poison ain’t keeping me muzzled any more, Henry. I’m working on my own for a while.”

Henry sighed. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell him.”

“Now listen, Chief, tell me what’s been goin’ on. Anythin’ new on the Mendetta angle?”

Henry lit a cigar. “Plenty,” he said briefly. “Vice’s been organized on a big scale here. From reports that I hear, whoever it is who’s running the game is doing it on a real money−making scheme. He’s got the monopoly here. The girls have been driven off the streets. You’ve never seen anything like it. You won’t find one single girl poundin’ a beat. Even the cops couldn’t clean up a town as this guy’s done. But he’s got houses everywhere. At his own prices. The rake−off must be colossal.”

“Who is it?”

Henry shrugged. “They say it’s Grantham. He’s payin’ all the bills. The cops are so well oiled that they leave him alone. Poison won’t let a word in his papers. The other rags follow his lead. Everyone is making money, as far as I can see, except the girls themselves.”

“Any girls missing?”

Henry nodded. “The Missing People’s Bureau has been taken over by a guy named Goldburg. He’s in Grantham’s pocket. No one does anything about the girls. They just write up particulars and that’s all. The increase in missing girls is up forty per cent. They’re gettin’ girls in from outside too. The guys I’ve met who’ve been to the houses tell me that every week there’s a new set of girls. They’re drilled in every form of vice imaginable.”

Jay rubbed his hands. “I’m goin’ after this racket, Chief,” he said. “I’ll smash it or bust.”

Henry looked worried. “It’s too big for you,” he said. “These guys are makin’ dough now. They’re dangerous.”

“If I can find out anythin’ to prove it I’ll turn the whole thing over to the F.B.I.,” Jay said. “I ain’t tacklin’

them single−handed.”

“What the hell do you think the F.B.I. are doin’ now?” Henry snapped. “They’re just waitin’ to pounce. This guy is so smart they can’t move yet. If they catch him in the Mann Act they can move. But no one knows how he gets his girls across the State line.”

Jay got up. “Well, I’m free. I’ve got nothin’ to do. So I may as well look this over. If I can tie Poison up to this I’ll do it.”

Henry reached out his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “If I’d the guts I’d get out of this game myself. I’m too old now to look for anything else.”

Jay shook hands with him. “Leave it to me,” he said. “If I want any help I’ll come and see you.”

Henry smiled crookedly. “After today, Jay,” he said, “you and I’ve got to take different roads. Poison will make me go after you.”

Jay went to the door. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll remember that,” and he went out fast.

6

September 7th, 10.45 p.m.

THE SMART little dance−hall was crowded. Soft lights, heady swing, and laughter. It drew the girls and their partners like moths to a naked flame.

A tall, good−looking Jew, well dressed, a small diamond glittering in his tie, glanced carefully round the room as he sat at a quiet table. Particularly, his eyes dwelt on the line of unattended girls who sat chattering to each other, laughing and giggling, but hoping for a male to take them on to the floor.

The Jew examined each girl swiftly as his eye swept down the line. He selected one. She was pretty, young, with a nice figure. She looked a lot more lively than the others, and in a mild way was trying to catch the eyes of the guys who every now and then walked along to find a new partner.

The Jew knew that this particular dance−hall always had a lot more girls than partners. It was a happy−hunting−ground for him. He got languidly to his feet and walked over to the line. He made straight for the girl he had selected.

He said in a soft voice, “I’d like a dance if you’ll give me one.”

She got up at once. “Sure,” she said. She knew he was a Jew, but he was tall and handsome. She didn’t mind.

They danced in silence. He knew his stuff and she thought he was a swell dancer. When the band cut out he took her back to her seat. He was satisfied she was the right type.

“That was grand,” he said. “I’d like another later.”

He went out almost immediately and signalled to a car, parked across the road. Then he went back to the hall. The band had started playing again, and he saw she was dancing with a little guy who kept tripping over her feet.

He sat down at the table. He was used to waiting. At last the dance finished and she went back to her seat.

When the short interval was over he got up and went across to her quickly. She saw him coming and got up with a smile. That was what he wanted. She was already getting used to him.

As he swung her through the crowd he hummed the melody the band was playing. He could sing.

She said, “Nice voice.”

“Nice girl,” he returned, smiling.

She laughed a little. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Sure. You’re so nice I can’t believe you’re here on your own.”

She pouted a little. “I haven’t got a regular boy.”

“Then I’m lucky,” he said.

“Don’t be smart.”

“When this dance’s over, will you have somethin’ to drink?”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Well, come and watch me.”

She didn’t say anything, and the Jew grinned to himself. He was pretty experienced. This was going to be a push−over.

The band ceased abruptly, and he led her back to his table. They sat down together.

“I bet your Pa doesn’t know you’re out,” he said, offering her a cigarette.

She giggled. “How did you know? Pa hates me dancing. I sneak out once a week. Even Ma thinks I’m in bed.”

The Jew smiled. “You’re a bad girl. I ought to take you home.”

They both laughed. A waiter came and hovered near them. “Come on, have a beer,” the Jew said. “It’s from the ice here, and it’s swell.”

She said, “Just one, then, but I don’t usually drink with strangers.”

The Jew gave the order to the waiter. “You’re quite right,” he said. “A nice−lookin’ girl like you can’t be too careful.” He put his fingers into his vest pocket and took out a little white pill. He kept the pill between his first and second fingers. The girl didn’t notice anything.

When the waiter brought the drinks the Jew pointed suddenly behind the girl. “Who’s that guy?” he asked.

His hand hovered over her glass as she turned her head, and the pill slid into the liquid.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Why?”

“I’ve seen him about a lot. Wondered who he was. Quite a guy, ain’t he?”

She turned back to the beer. It looked very inviting. He raised his glass. “Hey, beautiful,” he said with a flourish.

They both drank deeply. She shuddered when she put the glass down. “It’s horrid stuff,” she said.

He laughed. “Beer’s an acquired taste, baby; you’ll grow to love it.” He pushed back his chair. “Come on, let’s dance.”

Halfway across the room she lost time. He changed step and steered her towards the exit. She suddenly grew very heavy and her hands clutched at his arms.

“I’m goin’ to faint,” she said in a far−away voice. “Get me out of here.”

He was already leading her to the door. One of his arms was round her waist and he had to support her. No one noticed anything wrong. When they got out into the open she collapsed and sank down on her knees.

The closed car swung across the road and one of the doors opened.

The Jew picked her up and shoved her hastily into the car. The door slammed and the car drove away very fast.

The Jew watched the tail−light disappear and then he went back to the dance−hall. It was easy. He sat down at the table again and took out a little note−book. He made an entry. Then he put the note−book away and sat back, his eyes once more searching the line of girls waiting for partners.

7

September 8th, 9 a.m.

RAVEN OPENED his eyes. He had a knack of being instantly awake after a heavy sleep. He never struggled back into consciousness. One moment he was asleep, then next he was fully awake. He stared up at the ornate ceiling, feeling the soft comfort of the bed under him.

Three months ago he had been a bum. Now he was powerful, rich and feared, but he was smart enough to know it couldn’t last. Some time someone would squeal, and he’d have to go into hiding. It would be different now. He had money banked in several banks under different names. He had a lot of money in the apartment.

He could skip to Europe if necessary. That sent his thoughts in another direction. Why not skip out while the going was good? Grantham could run this racket now he’d got it started. He could go to France or to the Argentine. There was a lot of scope there for a guy with his brains.

He turned and looked at Sadie, who was sleeping by his side. He was pleased with her. She’d got class, she was a looker, and she didn’t make trouble. He’d tamed her all right.

He leant upon his elbow and studied her thoughtfully. She had little dark smudges under her eyes and her mouth was a little slack. Still, she was a looker for all that. She’d last for another couple of months, then he’d send her back to one of his houses and find someone else. His hand groped for the bell, and he rang it. Then he climbed out of the bed and went into the bathroom. By the time he’d shaved breakfast had been brought in.

Sadie woke up. She yawned and stretched her long white arms. Raven poured himself out a cup of coffee.

“Do you want some?” he said.

“Might as well,” she said listlessly, climbing out of bed. She struggled into a wrap and went off to the bathroom.

Raven glanced through the paper and then chucked it on one side. He found a pile of letters on the tray and began to glance through them. Most of them were for bills. They were all addressed to J. J. Cruise, the name he had adopted when he moved into the St. Louis Hotel. The last envelope was bulky and it contained a catalogue of trains. He was reading this carefully when Sadie came back.

She poured out some coffee and sat watching him indifferently. A great change had taken place since she had gone away with O’Hara. She knew it herself. She could no longer struggle against this man. He had proved himself so utterly ruthless and hateful that her resistance had been completely shattered. She no longer lived. She sat about waiting to obey his commands. Her terror for him had long burnt itself out. It was just a matter of automatically complying with his wishes. She found that if she did what she was told he was bearable. They went out together, lived together and slept together. She had no animation, but he seemed satisfied with being seen about with her. She didn’t care what people thought or who saw her. Her will had ceased to exist.

The catalogue revived his interest in the trains. He looked up. “Get that train outfit,” he said. “Put it up in the other room. I’ll amuse myself with it, I think.”

She put down her cup and went out of the room immediately. Raven scowled and stared after her.

Sometimes her obedience bored him. He wished she’d refuse so that he could vent his spite on her. He shrugged and, still frowning, continued to turn the pages of the catalogue.

The house phone buzzed and he shouted for her to answer it. She came out of the other room and, after listening at the receiver, said, “A Mr. Grantham wants to see you.”

Raven nodded. “Send him up,” he said.

She spoke again to the clerk and then went back into the other room. Raven could hear her setting out the tracks.

A knock sounded on the door and Grantham walked in.

Raven nodded. “Come on in,” he said. “Nice little place this, hey?”

Grantham hadn’t been up before. He glanced around. “Very,” he said shortly, taking off his light dust−coat.

He selected a chair and sat down.

Raven watched him narrowly. “Well, what’s wrong?”

Grantham came to the point at once. “Ellinger’s in town,” he said.

Raven shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

“Ellinger is a reporter on the St. Louis Banner. He covers the crime angle. We’ve had trouble with him before. Now it looks as if he means to stick his neck out. He’s left the Banner and has been makin’ a lot of enquiries about me. I don’t like it.”

Raven sneered. “You guys are helpless,” he said. “Scare him. Turn some of the boys on to him. He’ll quit.”

“He’s not that type of guy,” he said. “The harder we try an’ scare him, the harder he’ll stick.”

“Then arrange a little accident. Don’t bother me with these trifles.” Raven finished his coffee. “How’s the business goin’?”

Grantham nodded. “It’s goin’ all right.” He sounded doubtful.

“Well, what is it? Ain’t you satisfied?”

“Of course I am, but don’t you think we’re takin’ a hell of a risk? Some of these girls will squeal. They’re bound to. I think we ought to stick to the professional. Seventy−five per cent of the girls you send me are kidnapped into the game. It’s getting tough keeping them in order. There’s a big yap coming from Denver and Cleveland about the number of girls that are missing.”

Raven laughed. “You’re just a small−time hick,” he said. “Guys don’t want the professional type of hustler.

They want fresh innocent stuff, and you know it. The guys that pay big dough don’t give a damn where they come from or what song they sing as long as they have them. So you can’t keep them in order. I’ve got a little jane who was traded. I’ll show you how I’ve made her toe the line.”

He called, “Come here.”

Sadie came in. “Yes?” she said.

Grantham stared at her and then went pale. He recognized her at once. He’d been wondering where the hell she had got to. Carrie had been sent to Kansas City, and he had lost track of her. He had made efforts to trace her as he knew Sadie would be with her, and he’d failed.

Sadie looked at him, recognized him as the man who got her into this trouble, and flinched away from him.

Raven noticed the changes in their expressions.

He said to her roughly, “Get out!” And when she had gone he turned on Grantham. “You know her?”

Grantham wondered if this was a trap. He eased his collar with a limp finger. “Yeah,” he said, “she was one of the first girls I shanghaied.”

Raven nodded. “That’s right,” he said; “I found her at the nigger’s house. She’s got reason to hate you, hasn’t she?” and he laughed.

Grantham was very uneasy. He wasn’t sure how much Raven knew. If Raven had an inkling that Sadie could name him as Mendetta’s killer, surely he wouldn’t have her around? He was so bewildered that he wanted to get away and think about it. He moved to the door. “So you think Ellinger can be taken care of?” he said.

Raven studied his nails. “Why not?” he said, pulling his dressing−gown cord tighter round his waist.

“Make an accident of it… you know.”

Grantham nodded. “I’ll get it done,” he said, and went away.

Raven sat brooding. There was something he couldn’t understand about Sadie. First Carrie and now Grantham. They both showed uneasiness when they were in his presence and Sadie’s. He went into the other room.

Sadie was kneeling amid the tracks and the big outfit. She looked up quickly.

“Old pal of yours, huh?” Raven said.

She looked at him searchingly and then went on adjusting the line.

Raven felt a sudden vicious spurt of rage run through him as he stood behind her. He knelt down at her side and pushed her over. She fell off balance across the tracks and her shoulders flattened a miniature station.

She gave a little cry as the tin of the station dug into her flesh.

Grinning at her, Raven pushed her flat and then, amid the railway, flattened by their bodies, he had her.

8

September 8th, 10.30 a.m.

JAY ELLINGER parked his car in the big courtyard of the Preston Building and asked the commissionaire for Benny Perminger.

The commissionaire shook his head. “He left here a couple of weeks ago,” he said. “Mr. Caston would tell you where he went.”

Jay followed him into the reception hall. After a delay of phoning the commissionaire jerked his head to the elevator. “Third floor. Sixth door on the right,” he said.

Jay found Caston looking worried. He shook hands with him and accepted a chair.

“You a friend of Perminger’s?” Caston asked.

Jay nodded. “I’ve been out of town for some time,” he explained. “I wanted to get in touch with him. It’s important.”

Caston played with his penholder. “Well, I’m glad someone wants to find him,” he said. “I’ve been worried about that guy.”

“He’s left here?”

Caston pulled a face. “Between you an’ me, he was hoofed out. I liked that guy, you know. He was a good salesman. Then his wife ran away from him. That put him on the skids. I’ve never seen a man go to pieces so quickly.”

“What happened then?”

“He began hittin’ the bottle. It got so bad that we couldn’t keep him any longer. We all tried to hide it up, but the management got on to it in the end. He didn’t get any business. We had complaints. It was a bad show.”

Jay grunted. “Well, where is he? What’s he doin’ now?”

Caston shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “The last time I heard from him he was working for an addressing agency. Not much in that, you know.” He opened one of his desk drawers and searched, then he produced a little note−book. “He’s staying at an apartment house on 26th Street. If you can do anything for that guy I’ll be mighty pleased. He wants looking after.”

Jay scribbled the address down and got up. “Thanks, Mr. Caston,” he said, “I’ll go an’ see him.”

The apartment house reminded Jay of Fletcher. He thought, as he went up the steps, that this Slave racket was not only ruining the lives of hundreds of girls, but its repercussions were affecting the lives of their menfolk. It made him all the more determined to burst it open.

On the top floor he found Benny seated at a table scribbling away at a furious pace. A large stack of addressed envelopes lay on the table and bundles of other envelopes lay around the room. Benny looked a complete wreck. He hadn’t shaved for several days, and his eyes were heavy and glazed. A strong smell of stale whisky came from him as he lurched to his feet, nearly overturning the table.

He said, “For God’s sake,” and shook hands eagerly. “I’ve given you up. Sit down, buddy, an’ have a drink.”

Jay looked round the grimy room. One glance was enough to tell him that Perminger was up against it. He refused the drink, but lit a cigarette. Benny poured himself a long shot of neat spirit. He held the unlabelled bottle to the light and scowled. “Hell! Someone’s been stealing this stuff.” He said angrily, “There was half a bottle here last night.”

Jay said, “Forget it. I want to talk to you. What’s all this business?” He waved his hand around the room.

Benny shrugged. “I gotta live,” he said. “It’s a lousy job, but it pays for this.” He tapped the bottle and winked.

Jay got up and wandered to the window. “You didn’t turn up anything when I was away?” he said over his shoulder.

“Listen, I ain’t interested any more.” Benny’s voice was sullen.

“Lost your guts?” Jay said.

“Yeah, so would you.”

“Well, come on, let’s have it. Have you found out anything about your wife?”

Benny poured himself out another drink. “I haven’t got a wife,” he said.

Jay lost patience with him. He came back to the table. “Listen. Don’t be a heel. Your wife disappeared, didn’t she? She’s probably working for this Slave racket right now. I’m going to find her, and you’re going to help me.”

Benny’s face was white and his eyes looked wild. “No, you’re not,” he said, speaking through clenched teeth. “She wasn’t slaved. I’ve seen her. It was a trick. She’s livin’ with some guy at the St. Louis Hotel. I even spoke to her, but she cut me dead. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

Jay stiffened to attention. “You’re sure of this?” he demanded.

“Think I’d make a thing like that up?” Benny said, looking at him with hurt, angry eyes. “Of course I’m sure. She’s livin’ with that guy in luxury. That’s what she’s always wanted. She was always bellyachin’ about doin’ the washin’ and lookin’ after the apartment. Now she’s got what she wants. The dirty little chippy.”

“You may be misjudging her, Perminger,” Jay reminded him. “She might have to be there.”

Benny sneered. “Don’t talk bull. I tell you I spoke to her. She just looked through me. She could have got away if she wanted to. She was by herself. I followed her to the hotel. I found out from the porter all about them. The guy’s name’s Cruise. She’s posin’ as his wife.”

Jay sat down limply. He felt the ground had been cut from under him. “Who is this guy Cruise?” he asked.

Benny shrugged. “I don’t know, an’ I don’t care. I ain’t goin’ to start anythin’ with him. If that’s the life she likes, she can have it. I’m through with her.”

Jay got slowly to his feet. He felt that it was only wasting time. He said, “Well, I’m sorry, Perminger. It’s tough,” and shook hands.

Out in the street he paused before getting into his car. On the face of it it looked as if the whole of the business had fallen to pieces. The only thing he had to go on was Fletcher’s testimony, and Fletcher was dead.

He got in the car and engaged the gears.

Who was this Cruise? Had he anything to do with Grantham? Could it be possible that Perminger’s wife had really gone off with him and had made up the note about going to police headquarters? It didn’t seem likely. There was something wrong there. He made up his mind abruptly to take a look at Cruise. If he looked all right, then he’d try some other angle, but if he didn’t, then he’d keep a watch on him.

He drove over to the St. Louis Hotel and parked. He knew the house dick and went straight to his little office.

The house dick was resting his feet and reading the newspaper. He glanced up as Jay came in.

“Hyah, Harris,” Jay said, shaking hands. “How you makin’ out?”

Harris was a little plump guy, who lived in a bowler hat. He shook hands suspiciously. “Well, what is it this time?” he said. “I haven’t been bothered by you for months.”

Jay grinned at him. “I’ve been covering the Tammany Hall trial. Too bad that guy got off.”

Harris grunted. “They’ll get him the next time, you see,” he said. “Now what do you want? I’m busy.”

“All right, all right, keep your shirt on.” Jay grinned at him. “Can you give me a line on a guy named Cruise who hangs out here?”

Harris’s little eyes opened. “Aaah!” he said. “Now, I was wonderin’ when you boys were goin’ to get on to him. What makes you ask?”

Jay shrugged. “Curiosity. I’ve never seen the guy, but I’ve heard about him.”

Harris wasn’t to be drawn. “What have you heard?” he asked, looking cunning.

Jay knew there was only one short cut to getting anything out of Harris. Reluctantly he took out his roll and thumbed off ten bucks. He dangled the notes in front of Harris’s nose. “No questions,” he said.

Harris grinned and grabbed the notes. He tucked them in his vest pocket. “Well,” he said, “I don’t like him.

I don’t like the mob he has up in his suite. I don’t like the dame who lives with him.”

Jay waited patiently.

“For one thing,” Harris went on, “no respectable guy associates with the kind of hoods that go up there.

I’ve had my eye on him ever since he moved in. He’s a mean−lookin’ guy himself. I’ll swear the dame ain’t his wife. She acts sortta strange. She’s scared of him. Three punks see him every day. They drive up in the staff elevator. You ought to see the way one of them dresses. Still, they pay all right and we’ve got nothing against them, but I’m watching ’em.”

This sounded promising to Jay. He said, “Can I get a room on their floor, Harris?”

“Like that, is it?” Harris looked interested. “Yeah, I guess that could be arranged. Shall I fix it?”

Jay nodded. “Another thing. Maybe this guy’s got a record. Suppose you get his prints?”

Harris sneered. “Talk sense. I can’t do a thing like that.”

Jay took out his silver cigarette−case. “Take this up to him. Push it into his hands. Tell him you found it outside his apartment and you think it’s his. Then bring it back and let me have it. I’ll take it to the F.B.I. for a test.”

Harris gaped at him. “Jeeze,” he exclaimed, “that’s smart!”

He took the case from Jay and got up. “I’ll see him right away. You wait here.”

He came back again after some time, his fat face beaming. “That’s a laugh,” he declared. “You’ve lost your case. He took it all right, said it was his, gave me a buck for my trouble and shut the door in my face.”

Jay sat back limply. “Goddam it,” he said with a weak grin, “that shows he’s a crook.”

Harris nodded. “I’ve fixed a room for you,” he said, “you can move up whenever you like.”

Jay got to his feet. “I’m on my way,” he said, and left Harris still grinning.

9

September 8th, 4.30 p.m.

LU ELLER walked casually down the corridor leading to Raven’s suite. He knew Raven was out. He had seen him leave not five minutes ago. He’d been waiting for him to go for a long time. Even now he’d got to be careful. Someone else beside Sadie might be in the suite.

He listened outside the door for several minutes, but couldn’t hear anything. Then he knocked softly.

Sadie came to the door. When she saw him she started back, trying to close the door, but Lu’d got his foot in the way. “Raven in?” he asked pleasantly, tipping his hat.

She shook her head. “Nogo away. No one’s in.”

That’s what Lu wanted to hear. He smiled. “He said I was to wait. He won’t be long.”

Sadie was terrified of him. “You can’t come in,” she said; “wait downstairs.”

Lu had heard tales about Raven and Sadie. “He said I was to wait here,” he told her firmly. “You don’t want him to get mad with you?”

She dropped her hand from the door and stepped back. Lu looked hastily up and down the corridor and then came in. He shut the door.

Sadie backed away from him, and then almost ran into her bedroom.

Grantham had been very plain. “She’s got to go, Lu,” he had said. “We can’t use her against Raven any more. He’s doin’ well, an’ any time she might spill it. Raven would rumble it at once. No, she’s got to go.”

Lu eased his fingers a little. He’d got to work fast. Raven might change his mind and come back any moment. Lu was a little nervous. She wasn’t small and she might be stronger than he could manage. There was no question of shooting. His hand groped round to his hip pocket and he drew a short heavy−bladed knife from its sheath. He slipped the blade up his cuff, holding the handle hidden in his palm.

He went over to the bedroom door and rapped.

She said with a little catch in her voice, “What do you want?”

Softly he turned the handle and looked in. “Can you fix me a drink, lady?”

“Get out of here!” Sadie was frightened of him.

“Aw, come on, lady, Raven said for you to make me at home.” Lu smiled at her. He edged his way further into the room.

“Get out, or I’ll scream,” Sadie said, retreating to the other side of the room.

“What’s bitin’ you, lady?” Lu asked, moving forward very slowly. “I just want a drink. Ain’t anythin’ in that.”

He was halfway across the room by now. Sadie saw the cold, merciless gleam in his eyes and she screamed. Lu swore softly and jumped forward. The blade gleamed as it swung towards her. She dodged desperately, thudded against the wall and fell.

Lu grunted and stabbed down at her. She rolled away, the knife cutting through her sleeve and making a long scratch on her arm. She screamed again.

Lunging again, Lu nearly had her this time, but with unsuspected speed she again dodged him, and ran past him into the outer room.

Lu was getting into a panic. She’d have all the hotel up in a minute. He went after her. She was just opening the front door to get into the corridor. He didn’t hesitate. His arm flashed up and the knife hissed through the air. Sadie heard the sound and flung herself sideways. The knife buried itself in the fleshy part of her arm. She fell on her knees with a faint cry of pain.

As Lu ran towards her a thunder−bolt struck him. Jay, hearing the uproar, had come to investigate. He saw Sadie lying on the floor and Lu coming at her, his face livid with fury and panic, and Jay launched himself full tilt at him.

The two men went down in a heap. Lu brought his knees up and tossed Jay away. Both of them scrambled to their feet. Lu’s hand flew to his gun, but Jay was already on him again and they went down in a mass of flaying arms and legs. Jay brought over his right and hit Lu hard on his cheek−bone. Lu’s hands got a grip on Jay’s throat and they rolled over and over across the corridor.

Jay got hold of Lu’s wrists and tried to break his hold, but Lu was too strong for him. Already the pressure on his windpipe was beginning to tell. His head seemed to be expanding like an inflated toy balloon. He drove his fist into Lu’s face. The grip loosened as Lu grunted with the unexpected pain. Jay hit him again and wriggled clear. Lu recognized him then. In that split second of recognition Lu realized that this guy must not escape. Grantham had given instructions to shoot at sight. Now he was here, right in the middle of everything.

He groped for his gun, swearing because it had caught in the lining of his pocket. He jerked feverishly on the handle.

Jay came at him again, his fists hit Lu on the side of his head and face, smashing him to the floor. The gun came away from his pocket.

“No, you don’t,” Jay panted, stamping on Lu’s wrist. The gun dropped on the thick carpet, and Jay kicked it away.

Lu dived after the gun, stooped to grab it, and got a paralysing kick that sent him hurtling down the corridor. He picked himself up and ran. Jay chased him to the end of the corridor, but Lu beat him to it. He fell down the first flight of stairs, and then, picking himself up, he beat it as if hell were at his heels.

Jay dusted himself down and went back to Sadie, who was half sitting up watching with fascinated eyes the steady flow of blood from her arm.

Jay picked her up. “Take it easy, sister,” he said, “I’ll get you out of here.”

He carried her into his room and kicked the door closed. When he put her on the bed he ran back and turned the key in the lock. Then he went into the bathroom, grabbed a couple of small hand−towels, and stopped the bleeding.

She went very white when he took the knife out, but she didn’t faint.

He said, “That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink. Just lie quiet.”

He rang down to Harris. “Listen, bud, I’ve had a little trouble on up my floor,” he said, when Harris came on to the line. “Will you come on up and keep an eye on me?”

Harris said, “What sort of trouble?”

“Now don’t start askin’ questions, come up an’ bring a rod.” He hung up with a grim little smile.

He fixed Sadie a drink from the small flask he always carried around with him, and then went out into the corridor to meet Harris.

Harris came up at a rim. His big face was alight with excitement. “What is it?” he asked.

“If this guy Cruise shows up I want you to tell him that some hood tried to stab his wife. Tell him the cops took both of them down to the station. For God’s sake don’t let him know I’ve got her in this room.”

“I can’t do that,” Harris exploded; “it’ll cost me my job.”

“Do it,” Jay said shortly; “this guy won’t go near the cops, I’m sure of that. If he gets an idea that I’ve got her here he’s goin’ to get very tough. If you do this I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

Harris’s eyes brightened. “Let’s have it,” he said quickly.

Jay gave him the money. “Look, go into his apartment and get that cigarette−case of mine. Snap into it.”

Harris returned in a few minutes, holding the case. “Here it is. Now what?”

“Just hang around the corridor until he comes back. You’d better make a good show or else that guy will do things to you.” Jay left him and went back to Sadie. She was lying on the bed. Although she was still very white, she looked stronger.

Jay locked the door and came over to her. “I’m Jay Ellinger, late of the St. Louis Banner,” he said. “You’re Mrs. Perminger, ain’t you?”

Sadie sat up, once more terrified. “Nono! You’ve made a mistake. I’m Mrs. Cruise,” she said.

Jay sat down on the bed. He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered her one. “Go on,” he said, when she refused. “It’ll steady you.”

She took it nervously, looking at him all the time. Sitting close to her, he could see the ravishes of time and horror stamped on her face. He could see the hard lines, the frightened eyes, and he knew that she’d been through some terrible experiences.

When he had lighted the cigarettes he said, “This is your chance to get out of this mess. I know you’re Mrs.

Perminger. I was talkin’ to your husband a while ago.”

Sadie looked at him, and then her face crumpled. She hastily put up her hands and began to cry.

Jay said, “Take it easy. You’re safe now. Tell me. It’s true, isn’t it?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Now listen, Mrs. Perminger. It’s goin’ to be all right. You’ve got to take me into your confidence. I can guess something of what happened to you but I want the full story. You saw the guy who killed Mendetta, didn’t you?”

She sat up, terrified. “Who told you?” she gasped.

“I guessed that’s how they tricked you to leave your apartment, wasn’t it? That would explain the note you left.”

Sadie nodded. “I saw him coming out of the room. Then a policeman came and made me go away with that man you were fighting with. They took me to a house and kept me there. There was a negress who beat me. I tried and tried to stick it out, but I couldn’t. She beat me every hour of the day. I had to give in.” She sat up and beat her knees with her fists. Her face was twisted with fear and rage. “Do you understand? I wouldn’t do what she wanted me to do. So she kept on and on and on. Every day they tied me to the bed. There was a nigger who stripped me… Do you understand that? She let him put his filthy hands on me. He stood and laughed at me when she beat me. I tried… but I couldn’t stand it any more.” She sobbed again. “What was I to do? There are other girls, decent girls like me. They were brought to the house and men were sent into their rooms. I can still hear their screams. Beasts of men used to pay moneylots of moneyto assault them. They liked them to fight and screamthey paid more and more money if they really fought. It was horrible.”

Jay tapped off the ash from his cigarette. This made him feel bad.

“Then this man Cruise came one day. He inspected all the girls. He took them all away. I don’t know what happened to them. He treated them as if they were cattle. He took me. He brought me here. I was to be his slave. Well, I was crazy. I refused. I told him to get out. So what do you think he did?” Her sobbing was so violent he could hardly hear what she was saying. “He tied me to the bed and hehe poured turpentine over me.

Do you know what that means? He left me lying there all night. I was gagged. I couldn’t move, and it burnt….

Oh. God! How it burnt!”

Jay thought: “Here it is. Right with the lid off. This is the stuff that I want. I can start somethin’ now.” He said to her, “Grantham? Does he come into this?”

She nodded miserably. “He works for Cruise,” she gasped. “He comes here and they talk. I’ve heard things.

They got houses all over the town. They get girls from Denver, from Springfieldseverywhere. Don’t you understand? They’re good girls. They take them from their homes and they make them do this work. Oh, you must stop it! You must stop it!”

Jay patted her hand. “I’ll stop it,” he said grimly. He got up and reached for the phone. “Give me the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he said.

10

September 8th, 5 p.m.

GRANTHAM looked round the large room, his face cold and sneering. There were some thirty girls standing around the room. Some of them had on wraps, others just wore knickers and black stockings. They were all looking sullen and were only suppressing their fury because Madam, a big, hard−featured woman, stood behind Grantham.

Grantham said, “You girls’ve got to shake up your ideas. We’ve done badly here this week. I’m going to try a little experiment. Next week you’ll all go on a commission basis. See how you get on with that.” There was a low murmur from the girls. Madam said, “Shut up, you!”

Grantham’s lips twisted into a sneering smile. He turned to Madam. “You’ve been too soft with these bitches,” he said. “Get hold of the ringleaders and turn them over to my men. They’ll knock the starch out of them. What the hell do they think they’re here forfun?”

Out of the crowd of girls Fan suddenly pressed forward. “Hey, bastard,” she said, “let me tell you something. Since you’ve taken over, we girls ain’t had any breaks. We don’t get money. We don’t know how much we’ve earned. Now you say you’re just giving us commission.”

Grantham looked her over. “Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?” he said.

“Heel number one,” Fan returned. “I for one ain’t goin’ to take any more from yousee?”

Grantham turned to Madam. “What you waitin’ for? That’s one of ’em who wants handlin’.”

Madam walked over to Fan, who stood her ground, her eyes flashing dangerously. She said, “Lay off, or you’ll get hurt.”

There was a long pause, then the door jerked open and Lu came in with a rush. His face was covered with livid bruises and his collar and tie were missing.

Grantham stared at him. “What the hell?”

“Come on, boss,” Lu panted, “I’ve got a car outside. The lid’s blown off. Let’s go.”

“You mad?” Grantham said, forgetting that the girls were listening curiously.

“I tell you we’ve got to beat it. That swine Ellinger’s got the Perminger dame. She’ll spill everything.”

Grantham went white with rage. “I told you to get her,” he snarled.

“I knowI know. Don’t stand arguing. I tried. He got there first. Come on, boss.”

Grantham turned to the door. Fan got in his way and he shoved her to one side. “Get out of my way, you cow!” he shouted.

Fan seemed to go mad. She sprang at him, shrieking for the other girls to join in. Grantham flung her away, and then went down under a heap of furious harpies.

Lu hesitated, then turned and bolted for the door. Julie threw herself in his way and they went down on the floor together. Three other girls piled on top of him.

Fan was shrieking like a madwoman. “Give it to the swines! Tear ’em apart!” she yelled, making a dive at Madam, who ran screaming out of the room.

Grantham fought his way to his feet, hitting out right and left with his fists. He was badly frightened. It was only by swinging his arms violently that he kept off the claw−like fingers that quested for his face. He took a couple of steps back as the shrieking girls bore down on him, and then his heel was seized by one of the fallen ones and he went over with a thud that shook the room.

Lu was bawling for help as he twisted and squirmed under the mass of girls. Grantham had his hands too full to do anything. He beat them off a second time and got to the door.

“Don’t let him get out!” Fan screamed. “Bring the bastard down!” She rushed across the room and flung herself on Grantham, biting and tearing at him with her teeth and nails.

Grantham swung his fist and hit her in her throat, sending her reeling backwards. He pulled open the door and got out into the hall.

Andree and Julie pulled him down as he reached the front door. Andree traced three livid marks on his face with her nails. Grantham began to sob for breath. He kicked them away and bolted upstairs.

Lu was helpless in the hands of the girls who had seized him. There was a girl hanging on to each of his limbs, pinning him to the floor. His clothes were in ribbons and his face was a mask of blood where they had clawed him. He screamed on a high note with terror as they dragged the rest of his clothes off him.

Fan fought her way to him, pulling off the girls and throwing them on one side. “Let me get at the heel!”

she shrilled. “I’ll teach him somethin’. Get out of the way!”

The girls drew back, their faces savage and lustful. They crowded round again, as Fan knelt over the sobbing man.

“Get a knife, someone,” she shouted. “I’m goin’ to fix this guy so he doesn’t play around any more.”

A knife materialized from somewhere and was handed over the heads of the girls. Fan seized it.

Lu gave a horrible strangled scream when he saw the flash of steel, and when she laid hands on him he nearly went mad. “Don’t do itdon’t do it!” he screamed. “Nononoaaah! Aaaaah!”

The girls suddenly drew away, leaving him lying there. A long ribbon of blood ran towards them so that they drew further back, shuddering.

Fan, her eyes gleaming madly, shrilled, “What are you waitin’ for? Where’s the other one?”

In a body they stampeded for the door. Andree and Julie had already gone upstairs. They could hear them thumping on a door.

Fan, her hands covered in blood, ran up the stairs, with the others behind her. They brushed the two girls away from the door and threw themselves forward. The door creaked and bulged, but held.

Grantham backed against the wall, terrified. He rushed to the window and threw it up. Far below him he could see cars passing and people moving about in the streets. He leant far out of the window and began to yell at the top of his voice.

Faces turned towards him. People stopped and pointed. Cars came to a standstill, and people got out to look at him. He saw a policeman move towards the house with a slow measured tread. Behind him he heard the door creak, and he yelled again, his voice going off pitch with terror.

Then with a crash the door flew open, and he spun round, his back to the window.

Fan stood there, her hair wild and her eyes savage. He saw the bloodstained knife gripped in her hand and he turned back to the window. He heard his own voice screaming in panic as he tried to climb out.

They all came across the room in a wave. Hands seized him and dragged him back. He went down under them with a thin wail of terror.

11

September 8th, 5.30 p.m.

RAVEN glanced at the clock and stood up. It was time he got back to his hotel. He nodded to Maltz. “It’s goin’ all right,” he said. “We’ll have to open some more houses. The girls are comin’ in now faster than we can handle them.”

Maltz grunted. “The cops at Denver are workin’ on this, boss,” he said. “There’s been a hell of a lot of squawks from that town. Maybe we ought to ease up on the girls there.” Raven nodded. “Sure,” he said; “put a little more pressure on Cleveland. When things start getting hot, try somewhere else.”

He went to the door. “I’m goin’ back now,” he said. “You might go over to the 22nd tonight. I’m expecting a batch of girls to come in. Grantham’s gettin’ too busy to handle that sort of thing now.”

Maltz said he would, and Raven went out. He walked down the stairs, his face thoughtful. All the afternoon he had been worrying. He knew someone wanted to get his finger−prints. When the St. Louis house dick had brought him the cigarette−case his suspicions had been aroused. It couldn’t be the authorities. They would never have used a broken−down flatfoot like Harris.

The last three months of easy living had not blunted his finely developed sense of self−preservation. He had got on too well to risk anything now.

Out in the street he hesitated before calling a taxi. Something told him that he shouldn’t return to the hotel.

Yet, he told himself savagely, he’d got to. All his dough was there.

As he neared the hotel he leant forward and told the driver to go straight on past. He crouched back in the cab and examined the hotel carefully as they went by. He saw nothing there to alarm him. Still he wasn’t satisfied. He stopped the taxi at the next block and paid him off. Then he went into a phone booth and rang his apartment. The clerk said apologetically that he could get no answer. He asked sharply if his wife was out.

The clerk told him he hadn’t seen her go. Raven hung up.

By now he was a little alarmed. He wondered if Grantham knew anything. When he rang Grantham’s office he was told that he was out, but was expected any minute.

“Where’s he gone?” he asked.

The girl said, “To Madam Lacey’s house.”

Raven hung up and immediately rang Madam Lacey’s. A hard voice answered him. It was a man’s voice he couldn’t place. He asked for Grantham.

“Who are you?” the voice snapped.

Raven sensed that it was a cop. He felt cold sweat suddenly break out under his arms. “Tell him it’s Fleming,” he said; “I want to talk to him.”

“He’s busy right now,” the voice said. “Suppose you come down.”

“I’ll be right along,” Raven said, and hung up. There was something wrong. He rang up Maltz.

“Go over to the hotel and sniff around,” he said, after explaining what had happened. “Don’t give yourself away. Just poke around quietly and meet me at Franky’s in an hour’s time.”

Maltz said he would.

Raven came out of the phone−box and lit a cigarette. He hailed a taxi and gave Madam Lacey’s address. “I want you to cruise past the joint slowly, but you’re not to stop.”

The taxi−driver said he’d do that and set the cab rolling. They reached the house in a few minutes, and Raven could see something was wrong. There were two police cars and an ambulance standing outside. A policeman stood at the door frowning at the large collection of people standing staring.

At the end of the road Raven paid off the taxi and walked slowly back towards the house. He kept on the opposite side of the road, his hand touching the handle of his hidden gun. He mingled with the crowd and stood watching.

Three patrol wagons came racing down the street, their sirens wailing, and drew up outside the house. The crowd surged forward, carrying Raven with them.

“What the hell’s going on here?” he asked a guy who stood near him.

“They’re raidin’ a brothel,” the guy said with evident relish. “Seems a riot broke out inside. They say the dames in there set about two fellas and killed them.”

Raven started. “What do you meankilled them?”

“That’s right,” a sheep−faced man broke in. “Two punks who ran the house. The girls got tough an’ gave them the worksserve the lousy punks right.”

Just then the front door opened and the police began to bundle the girls out into the street. The crowd raised an ironic cheer. The girls were herded into the wagons, cops applying their night−sticks to their backsides as they fought and protested. It was a real outing for the crowd. The sheep−faced man yelled, “I bet those cops’ll have a treat tonight.” The crowd raised a loud laugh. “Can we help you, copper,” another man bawled, “or can you manage that little lot yourself?”

Raven recognized Fan, Julie and Andree. He noticed they were handcuffed. Fan was being very troublesome, and the cops were treating her rough.

Raven was livid with suppressed rage. Each one of those girls brought him in a large income. What the hell did the cops mean by breaking into one of his houses? Then he remembered what the sheep−faced man had said. Uneasily, he waited. The wagons moved off, and then two white−coated attendants came out, carrying a stretcher. The crowd gave a groan of satisfaction and shoved forward some more. By stretching his neck Raven caught a glimpse of a figure covered with a white sheet being slid into the ambulance. Almost immediately two more attendants came out carrying another stretcher.

“What did I tell you?” the sheep−faced man demanded triumphantly. “Killed two guys those girls did. An’

serve ’em right, I say.”

Raven had seen quite enough. It was dangerous to stay here any longer. He broke away from the crowd and walked hurriedly away. His brain was on fire with worry. Maybe Maltz would find out something. It was obviously very unsafe to return to his hotel. He passed a telephone booth, hesitated, and then went in. He rang up the D.A.’s office.

“Hackensfield?” he asked, when a man answered the phone. “This is a friend of Grantham. What’s happened? What the hell are you raiding one of our houses’ for?”

“Who are you? What’s your name?” Hackensfield demanded. He sounded tough.

“Never mind who I am. If you want to stay on our payroll you’d better get those girls off at once,” Raven snarled.

“You’re crazy. I can’t do it,” Hackensfield said, throwing caution to the wind. “Don’t you know what they’ve done?”

“What have they done?”

“They set about Grantham and Eller. My God! You ought to see those guys. The things they did to them. I tell you we’ve got to prosecute. The authorities will demand an enquiry. We can’t get out of this.”

Raven felt a little sick. “You’ve got to!” he shouted violently. “If you get those girls to testify the balloon goes up. Once they start openin’ their mouths they’ll never shut them again. The racket’ll go sky−high, an’

you’ll go with it. Listen, Hackensfield, you’ve got to stop them testifying. I don’t care how you do it, but you’ve got to stop them. Do you understand?”

Hackensfield’s voice cracked in his panic. “I tell you we can’t do it. Two murders have been committed.

The newspapers have got all the details. They’ll splash it in every newspaper. The public will demand a trial.

This is the most horrible and sensational crime that’s ever been committed in this town. You’ll have to get the hell out of here and leave it to me to handle. Can’t you see that?”

“If you think I’m goin’ to pass up nearly a million dollars of investments just because you’re too damned milky to stop it, you’re crazy. I’ll stop it if I have to break into the gaol and shoot every one of those whores.

Now do you understand that I mean business?”

There was a pause, then Hackensfield said, “It won’t work. Think about it. Statements will be taken from the girls as soon as they get to the station. They’ll find out that some of the girls have come from other States.

The F.B.I. have already gone down to the station to see if they can horn in on the investigation. We can’t keep them out. As soon as they know there are girls from other States they can take charge through the Mann Act.

No, it’s all up. Every one of us’ll have to save his own hide.”

Raven hung up and stepped out of the phone booth, trembling with suppressed rage. Hackensfield was right. The thing had come too fast for him to act. The F.B.I. would take over and he’d be on the run again.

There wasn’t a moment to delay.

He climbed into the taxi and gave Franky’s address. He had to pick Maltz up, although by now Franky’s wouldn’t be safe. During the drive he took out his wallet and counted the amount of money he had on him.

He’d got just over two hundred dollars. When he thought that he could put his hands on nearly a million dollars if he could only get back to the hotel, he shivered with rage and frustration. He’d got to get that money, even if he raided the hotel and took it at the point of a gun.

He paid off the taxi at Franky’s and, holding the butt of his gun, walked in.

Maltz, Little Joe and Lefty came across the lobby as soon as they saw him.

“You got a car?” he snapped.

Lefty nodded. “At the back.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” Raven said.

They went through Franky’s place and got in the car. “Where to, boss?” Lefty asked.

“Drive around. I want to talk,” Raven returned, lighting a cigarette. “Just keep moving.”

The car swung away from the kerb.

“Well, what did you find out?” Raven asked Maltz.

Maltz seemed bewildered. “The cops are in your apartment,” he said. “They took Sadie away. What the hell’s happenin’?”

Raven’s face twisted. “It’s that rat Grantham,” he snarled. “I was crazy to have trusted him. I told him to get rid of Ellinger and he didn’t do it. Now Ellinger’s finished us.”

Little Joe scratched his head. “What do we do now?” he asked. “Shall we beat it out of town?”

Raven shook his head. “Before we go we’ve got to have some dough. We’re goin’ to the St. Louis Hotel an’

collect the dough I’ve got in my apartment.”

Maltz said patiently, “I told you the cops are in there. They’ll have found it by now.”

Raven shook his head. “No guy’s goin’ to open my safe in a few hours. We’ve got to get that dough, Maltz.”

Lefty said, “The G−men will be up there too.”

Raven showed his teeth. “Yeah? What of it? We’ll go up the back way with Thompsons. They won’t have a chance.”

The others looked at each other uneasily. “Those guys can shoot,” Little Joe said nervously.

Raven nodded. “So can we. St. Louis Hotel, Lefty.”

12

September 8th, 6.5 p.m.

CAMPBELL, special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, smiled at Sadie reassuringly. He sat behind a large desk in a severely furnished office.

“Before you give me your evidence,” he said, “I’ll tell you something about this guy Cruise. For one thing, that’s not his name. Fortunately, Mr. Ellinger obtained a perfect set of prints for us. We’ve had these checked.

They belong to a man whom we know as Raven and who we’ve been looking for for some time. This Raven had a bad criminal record in Chicago. He made things too hot for himself and pulled out. He pulled out in a stolen car and crossed a State line. That gave us a chance of getting after him. We lost sight of him here, although he was reported to have been seen further south. Never mind that. As far as you’re concerned, you’re safe from him. We shall give you special protection, and until he’s rounded up you’ll stay out of town with a special guard. You’re very important to us. Not only can you prove that he was the guy who killed Mendetta, but your testimony on his Slave racket will get him on the other counts we are bringing against him.”

Sadie moved restlessly. “Will it take long?” she asked.

Campbell shrugged. “I don’t think so. We mustn’t underrate this man. He’s clever, and he may still give us the slip, but with your help I think we’ll get him quickly. Can you tell me anything about his habits? Did he like movies, for instance? You see, what we have to do in a case like this is to find out everything we can about a wanted man. They have their own little peculiarities. Some of them are crazy about racing. Sooner or later they’ll appear on a race−track, and we catch them there. You see what I’m getting at?”

Sadie drew a deep breath. “He was crazy about toy trains,” she said.

Campbell lifted his eyebrows. “Now, that’s something.” He made a note on a pad. “I was goin’ to ask about that. We found a big outfit in his rooms.”

Sadie nodded. “When he wasn’t working he used to make me set out the tracks and he’d spend hours playing with the trains.”

“Anything else?”

Sadie shook her head. “No. Just the trains.”

“Did he smoke or drink heavily?”

Again Sadie shook her head. “Just average, I think.”

“You’ve been through a pretty tough time, Mrs. Perminger,” Campbell said quietly. “I hate to remind you of some things, but every little help you can give us will make our task less difficult.”

Sadie said tonelessly, “I understand.”

Taking from his desk drawer a thick portfolio, Campbell selected a large batch of pictures. “Here are photos of girls who have been reported missing during the last three months. I want to see if you can identify any of them. You were in one of the houses for some time and there is a chance that you saw some of them.”

Sadie took the batch and went through them slowly. Campbell watched her thoughtfully. It seemed incredible to him that she should be so cold and calm after what she had been through.

She handed him back about thirty photos. “All these girls were one time or another in my house,” she said.

“Can you explain how this business was worked?” Campbell asked. “Some of these girls came from Springfield, Cleveland, Denver, and such places. Did they come willingly, or how did he get hold of them?”

Sadie shook her head. “It was all horribly simple. He had special men who were always on the look−out for lonely girlsgirls who weren’t happy at home; girls who wanted a good time. They had to be pretty and young. When these men found them they either drugged them and took them by car to Sedalia, which was their clearing−post, or else they invented some story about an accident and got them to come that way. The method differed each time, but it was always a quick, simple plan that was unlikely to arouse suspicions.”

“Sedalia?” Campbell repeated.

Sadie nodded. “Every girl I spoke to had been taken there.”

Campbell reached for his phone and gave some rapid orders. “I’ll get that place looked over immediately,”

he said to Sadie. “When they got them to Sedalia, what happened then?”

Sadie flinched. “Must I talk about that?”

“I know just how you feel, but if we’re to save other girls from this business we must know all about it.”

“From what I heard, the girls were put in separate rooms and left to sleep off the drugs. When they recovered they found themselves in bed with a coloured man. It was always a coloured man. Sometimes it was a Chink, or a nigger, or even a Phillipine. They relied on the psychological shock to lower the girl’s resistance, and in most cases it was successful. Some of the girls refused, of course, and then they would beat them into submission.” Sadie shuddered. “No one knows what that means unless you’ve actually experienced it. To be beaten every hour of the day until your body is swollen and so tender that the weight of a sheet makes you scream in agony. No one can stand that, Mr. Campbell. I don’t care who it is.”

Campbell nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“When Raven took over he had other methods of subduing girls. He poured turpentine over them. That was worse than the beatings.” Sadie put her hand to her eyes. “Mr. Campbell, this man mustn’t get away.”

“He won’t. I promise you that.” Campbell got to his feet. “I think that’ll do for the moment,” he went on.

“I’m sending you out of town to a quiet little place where you can rest. I want to congratulate you on your courage. After the things you’ve told me, it is remarkable that you’ve stood up to it so well.”

Sadie stood looking at him, her face cold and hard. “Do you think I can ever forget?” she said. “My life’s ruined. I can’t go back to my husband. I can’t settle to anything. I want revenge, Mr. Campbell. It may be wicked to say that, but I want to see this Raven suffer as I was made to suffer. Thank God those girls killed Grantham and Eller. If I could do the same to Raven I should die happy.”

Under her glance of cold, malicious hatred Campbell turned uneasily away.

13

September 8th, 6.10 p.m.

LEFTY parked the car just outside the back entrance of the hotel. There was no one about.

Raven got out of the car. His face was very white. “Get the Thompsons out,” he snapped, looking up and down the deserted alley.

Maltz pulled up the back seat and took out three Thompsons. Raven took one and Lefty another.

Little Joe said uneasily, “Shall I stick with the heap?”

Raven shook his head. “We’ll want everyone up there,” he said grimly. “Don’t forget, boys, there’s nearly a million bucks in my safe. We split.”

“As long as there ain’t a million G−men, that’ll be fine,” Lefty said with a tight smile.

Raven walked quickly into the hotel. The porter, sitting in his little office, gave them a startled look. When he saw the Thompsons his hand went out to the telephone. Raven lifted the long muzzle of the machine−gun.

The porter gave a sickly smile and took his hand away.

Raven said to Lefty, “Fix that bird.”

Lefty took two quick steps and the butt of his gun crashed down on the porter’s head. The porter slumped down on the floor of his office.

“Fast, now,” Raven said, stepping into the elevator.

The others crowded in after him. They were all very nervous. The elevator whined up between the floors.

Raven said, as the cage slid to a standstill, “Gettin’ out’s goin’ to be a picnic. Shoot first an’ talk after.”

He stepped out of the elevator and began a stiff−legged walk down the corridor.

His suite was round the first bend.

Little Joe took off his hat and wiped his face with his sleeve. This was scaring hell out of him. He clutched his blunt−nose automatic, ready to flop at the first burst of fire.

Raven crept to the bend in the corridor. Every sound was muffled by the heavy carpet. He knew this was sheer madness, but he wasn’t going to part with all that dough without a fight. If he got his hands on it he was all right. The thought of once more being on the run, without money, frightened him far more than a hail of lead.

He looked round the bend. Two cops stood in the passage looking towards him. They saw him at the same time as he saw them. He swung up his Thompson and gave them a short burst. The sudden clatter of the gun as it spat lead crashed down the corridor. One of the cops fell forward on his face, but the other darted into Raven’s room.

Swearing softly, Raven ran forward, the others following him. The door was open, and Raven paused as he reached it. He had no intention of rushing in. Kneeling down, he swung the muzzle of the gun round the door, spraying lead.

A revolver cracked twice in reply and bullets thudded into the opposite wall. Raven glanced at the wall, saw the angle, which told him the cop was lying down, and lowered the muzzle, firing at the same time.

He heard the cop give a gasp, and he took a chance. He burst into the room, firing wildly. The cop was lying in a pool of blood, the top of his head blown off.

Maltz crowded in and, holding his gun at his hip, ran into the other rooms. There was no one else there.

Raven grinned at him as he came back. “Stand by the door,” he said, “while I get the safe open.”

He laid his gun down and ran over to the small wall safe. Feverishly he spun the little knob, muttering the combination out loud as he did so.

The others stood in the corridor, tense and expectant.

It took several minutes to open the safe. As he pulled the door open he heard the wailing of sirens in the street. He grabbed two large packets of notes that he knew he’d find there. “I’ve got ’em,” he shouted, picking up his gun. “Come on, let’s scram.”

Just as he stepped into the corridor the main elevator door opened and several cops spilled out.

Maltz fired on them, falling flat. The cops opened up with a withering fire and Raven only just darted back into the room in time. Stuffing the packets of money inside his coat, he ran into the bathroom and threw up the window. Down below he could see police−cars drawing up outside the hotel and cops crowding out. There were a lot of them. He turned back once more and ran into his bedroom, which looked out on the back alley.

He knew there was a fire−escape there.

All the time he could hear the gun−battle raging outside in the corridor. He couldn’t think of the others now. They’d have to look after themselves. As he threw up his bedroom window he heard a crash of something exploding and then faintly the smell of pear drops came to him. Tear gas! He swung out on to the fire−escape. It wouldn’t be more than minutes before they’d get after him. He raced up the iron stairs. Below him he heard a shout, and then someone started firing at him. Bullets zipped past him, unpleasantly close. As he threw himself blindly over the parapet of the roof one of the packets fell from inside his coat and landed with a little thud on the iron staircase. He knew he couldn’t get it. It would mean exposing himself to the fire below. Cursing, he took the other packet and put it inside his shirt, then he ran across the roof top, lowered himself over another parapet, took a stiff drop on to another roof, and ran on again.

Any moment he expected to hear shots behind him. Now that he was on the rim he felt once more the bitter calculating thing of destruction he was before he made money. Every instinct was razor sharp, and even as he climbed across the roofs of the buildings he was already making plans well in advance.

He must get out of town. Stations and roads would be watched. He knew he couldn’t get out of town without aid. He thought of the various people whom he had known, and bitterly he was forced to reject each one. There was no one he could turn to. Grantham, Eller, Lefty, Little Joe, Maltz and the rest of them were finished. He knew that. He was on his own now. He didn’t mind that. He’d got money. That would always be his best friend.

By now he’d reached the end of the block. Peering round a chimney−stack, he could see the police climbing on to the hotel roof some distance away. They began to move very cautiously towards him. Well, they’d take a little while to catch up at that rate.

By his feet was a trap−door. He lifted it carefully and lowered himself into an attic room, drawing the trap−door in place after him. He knew the block was by now surrounded. He took the bundle of money out of his shirt and split it into four small packets. These he distributed carefully in each pocket of his suit. It was no use carrying the Thompson any longer. He put it in the corner of the room and then opened the door and walked into a corridor.

As he walked towards the head of the stairs he loosened his automatic in its shoulder−holster. The place seemed to be a block of offices. When he reached the second landing, rows of frosted−panelled doors confirmed this. At the end of the corridor he saw a gentleman’s toilet. He hesitated a moment and then went in.

The only occupant was a window−cleaner, who was leaning out of the window. Raven eyed his uniform and realized his chance.

The window−cleaner, hearing him come in, looked over his shoulder. “Seems like there’s a lotta excitement poppin’ at the St. Louis,” he said with a grin. “The place is lousy with cops.”

Raven came to the window and looked down. A heavy cordon had been thrown round the block and the street was packed with interested sight−seers.

“What’s it all about?” he asked, stepping back.

“Search me,” the window−cleaner returned, still looking down into the street. “Some excitement.”

Raven drew his automatic and let the barrel slide into his hand, then he dealt the window−cleaner a crushing blow at the back of his head.

14

September 9th, 10.5 a.m.

JAY ELLINGER walked into the F.B.I. offices and asked for Campbell. He was shown up immediately.

Campbell got up from behind his desk and shook hands. “Sit down, Ellinger,” he said, pushing over a box of cigars. “Make yourself at home.”

Jay shook his head at the cigars. “Too early for me, thanks,” he said, taking out his cigarette−case. “I just looked in to hear how things were going.”

Campbell smiled. “You’re free, ain’t you?” he said. “I mean, you’re lookin’ for some sort of job?”

Jay looked surprised. “Why, sure,” he said, “I guess I am.”

“Ever thought anythin’ about this racket?”

“What? A Federal Agent?”

Campbell nodded. “I’ve been on to Mr. Hoover’s chief of staff. We think you’d make a good agent, Ellinger.”

“Why, sure,” Jay said eagerly, “I’d jump at it.”

“Seeing that it was through your efforts this big Slave Ring’s been exposed, we thought it only fair to let you in at the death. What do you say?”

“It’s mighty nice of you.”

“Okay, then I’ll fix it. A Federal Agent has to sit for all sorts of examinations and has to go through all kinds of tests and training before he can join up. I’m goin’ to let you off these for the time being. You’ll work with one of my operators and you’ll just be his assistant. When we’ve cleaned all this business up you’ll be posted to one of our trainin’ centres. Right now there isn’t the time for it.”

Jay nodded. “That’s fine. You can rely on me to do as I’m told. I’d like to see the end of this guy Raven.”

“So you shall.” Campbell pressed a bell. “I’ll get Hogarty to come in.”

A moment later a tall, thick−set man entered. “Mornin", Chief,” he said, tipping his hat.

“Hogarty, meet Jay Ellinger. You’ve heard about him. I’m sending Ellinger along with you. He might be able to help. When all this is over he’s being sworn in.”

Hogarty shook hands with Jay. He seemed pleased to know him. “You’ve done a smart bit of work already,” he observed.

“Okay. Now what’ve you to report?” Campbell asked, signing Hogarty to another chair.

Hogarty sat down. “Well, Chief, he’s got away. I’m sorry about it, but somehow or other he slipped through the cordon.”

Campbell shrugged. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy,” he said. “He can’t leave town, can he?”

“He’ll be damn clever if he does,” Hogarty said grimly. “The place is sewed up tight enough.”

“What about the other guys?”

“Two of them are dead, and Little Joe’s ready to squawk.”

Campbell nodded. “You better see he’s put somewhere where they can’t get at him,” he said. “What about Mrs. Perminger… she all right?”

“Yeah. We’ve got her out in the country. I’ve put three operators on to her and she’s got a woman to keep her company. She’ll be right on the spot when the guy comes to trial. Jeeze! Does she hate that fella?”

Campbell’s face hardened. “She’s got a lot of reasons for hatin’ him,” he said. “It beats me how she came through at all.”

Hogarty climbed to his feet. “Women are tough,” he said. “And when a dame hates like that Mrs. P., I’d sooner be a long way away from her.”

“What are you goin’ to do now?”

“Stick around. It takes time, Chief. If he’s run to ground we’ll have to wait for him. Sooner or later he’ll make a slip an’ then we’ll get him.”

“You’re sure the town’s sewed up?”

“It’s tight. Every road’s bein’ watched. The stations are looking out for him and the airport too. No, I guess he’ll have to stay out. It’s a pity he got away with all that dough. It makes things much easier when they’re broke.”

“All right, take Ellinger along with you. Get after him, Hogarty; we want quick results.”

Hogarty jerked his head to Ellinger. “Sure,” he said, and as they went out he winked at Jay. “Maybe he does want quick results, but he ain’t goin’ to get them,” he told Jay as they walked down the passage.

“Sometimes it takes months before a guy breaks from cover. We just have to wait.”

Jay followed him out into the crowded street.

15

September 9th, 10.45 a.m.

ON THE third floor of a shabby little hotel Raven slept behind the locked door of the grimy bedroom he had rented. He slept uneasily. A gun lay beside him on the soiled sheet. He hadn’t taken off his clothes.

Newspapers covered the floor so that anyone approaching his bed would, by the rustle of the papers, wake him.

He wore a smart black suit that the hotel owner had obtained for him. The hotel owner was a guy called Goshawk. Raven had paid him well and he hadn’t asked questions. Already he knew who Raven was.

Everywhere pictures of Raven proclaimed him as a wanted man. As long as he continued to pay Goshawk he knew he was safe, but he knew that if he was to make his get−away and have enough to start some other racket he couldn’t stay long. Goshawk knew how to charge.

Raven stirred uneasily and then sat up quickly. His hand closed round the gun as he listened. He heard nothing, and relaxed.

The four grimy walls of the room oppressed him. He wanted to get up and go out, but he knew he daren’t do that. Even from his bedroom window he could see a poster on a hoarding carrying his photograph. The F.B.I. weren’t taking any chances with him.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He glanced at the clock. It didn’t matter to him what time it was, he’d got no place to go.

Moving across to the wash−basin, he bathed his face and decided to shave. While taking his collar and tie off he happened to look across the road at an opposite house. He stood still staring.

A girl, dressed in a white flimsy step−in, was wandering backwards and forwards in front of the window.

She seemed to be doing a dance routine. By listening carefully he could hear the faint strains of a gramophone.

Keeping carefully out of sight, he stood watching her. His first reaction was that she’d be a good type for one of his houses, then his second reaction was a sudden forgotten lust that made him want her as he had never wanted a woman before.

She was medium height, with a mass of corn−coloured curls. Even from where he was standing he could see she had an exceptionally good figure. She drifted round the room smoothly, and then, as the record came to an end, she disappeared from view.

Thoughtfully Raven picked up his shaving−brush and began to lather his face. He kept his eyes fixed on the window. It was only when he’d finished shaving that she reappeared. This time she was dressed in a red−and−white−spotted dress, and she came out on the little iron balcony and looked down into the street.

Raven could see a lot more of her. Again he felt a pang go through him. A tap at the door startled him and he growled, “Who is it?” laying his hand on the gun.

“Goshawk.”

He crossed the room and unlocked the door.

Goshawk came in with a tray. He was a little scraggy man with hard gimlet eyes and a heavily dyed moustache. He set the tray down on the bed.

Raven took him by his arm and pulled him to the window. “Who’s that dame?” he asked.

Goshawk stared and shook his head. “Search me,” he said indifferently. “Why?”

“Never mind why,” Raven snarled. “Find out at once. Send someone over to that house and find out who she is. I don’t care how you do it, and don’t make anyone suspicious, but find out.” He gave him a twenty−dollar bill. “Ten more if you get what I want.”

Goshawk shook his head. “Make it another twenty,” he said.

Raven, his face going white with fury, seized him by his scraggy neck. “You down−at−heel louse,” he said furiously; “you try an’ twist me an’ see what comes to you.”

Goshawk backed away hurriedly. He felt his throat tenderly with his grimy hand. “All right, Mr. Raven,”

he said, touching his forehead with a long bony finger.

Raven said through his teeth, “Don’t call me that!”

Goshawk backed away and went out of the room. Raven locked the door after him and then went to the window. The girl had gone.

He turned back to his breakfast. A newspaper lay on the top of the tray, folded in such a way that his photo stared up at him. He picked up the paper savagely and tossed it across the room.

He had no appetite for his breakfast, and after a few mouthfuls he pushed the tray away and lit a cigarette.

How was he to get out of this place? Everywhere his picture reminded the crowded streets to look for him. He went over to the mirror and stared at himself. If he grew a moustache and dyed his hair he might get some place. He could wear tinted glasses too. Yes, that was it. He found himself quivering with excitement.

Goshawk would have to help him, but then Goshawk would know of his disguise. A cruel smile came to the thin lips. Maybe Goshawk would have a little accident.

16

September 9th, 11.45 a.m.

GOSHAWK said, “I found out about the dame over the way. Her name’s Marie Leroy. She’s flat broke an’

wants to go to Hollywood. Thinks she’s a dancer. She’s an orphan, and can’t get a job. At the end of the week she’ll be told to dust.”

Raven lit a cigarette. His fireplace was littered with stubs. “What’s she goin’ to do?”

Goshawk shrugged. “I’ll tell you what she won’t do,” he said with a sly smile. “She won’t decorate no guy’s bed. That kind of a dame is a so−far−and−no−mother dame.”

Raven sneered. “That’s what you think,” he said. “Given the opportunity, the time, and if you kid ’em enough, it’s a cinch with any dame.”

“Yeah?” Goshawk shook his head. “You ain’t thinkin’ of havin’ a try, are you? I shouldn’t have thought your mind was on dames. You’ve got your hands full, ain’t you?”

Raven ignored him. He got up from the rickety armchair. “I want you to get me a pair of tinted eye−glasses,” he said, “an’ some bleachin’ stuff for my hair.”

Goshawk’s eyes narrowed. “Thinkin’ of pullin’ outta here?”

“Nope. Just makin’ myself look different.”

“Okay, I’ll get ’em,” and he went out.

When he had gone, Raven turned away savagely. He knew that as soon as he stopped paying the rat dough he’d squeal. That type always did. All right, when he was ready to pull out he’d fix him.

He went and sat by his window, keeping just behind the dirty white curtain, and looked across at Marie Leroy’s room. The empty window made him more lonely than he’d ever felt, and he just sat there smoking, waiting for her to come back.

When Goshawk brought him his lunch he was still sitting there. A pair of tinted glasses and a bottle of peroxide was also on the tray.

Raven ate his meal moodily, every now and then glancing at the window. His active mind was already making plans. After lunch he sat down and wrote a letter. He spent some time in composing it, and when he had finished he sat back and read it through.

Dear Miss Leroy,

I understand you are interested in a chance to get to Hollywood. I’m going there myself. Shall we go together? I’ve got a car and the expense of the trip is in my hands. This is entirely a business proposition and I’m asking you to accompany me on the trip as it is essential for me to travel with someone like yourself. I’ll explain more fully when I meet you, which I propose to do in a few days’ time.

Yours sincerely,

James Young.

He put the letter in an envelope and put it on the tray. When Goshawk came to take the tray away he told him to mail it.

“Whorin’ by mail now, huh?” Goshawk said.

“Do what you’re told, an’ shut your trap,” Raven snarled at him.

When Goshawk had gone he set about bleaching his hair. It took time, but when he’d finished the result in the mirror startled him. It certainly altered his appearance. He tried on his glasses. It still wasn’t good enough.

With a moustache it would be better. All right, he’d raise a moustache. It wouldn’t take him long. He felt the little bristles already growing on his top lip.

He sat on the edge of his bed and thought. Today was Tuesday. Tomorrow she’d get the letter. At the end of the week she’d have to leave her room. It ought to work. She was up against it. This was a chance right in her lap. Thursday night he’d go across and see her. Friday night they’d go. In the meantime he’d got to get a better suit and he’d got to get a car. How the hell was he going to do that? If Goshawk knew he was pulling out, would he keep his trap shut until he was gone, or would he yap at once? If Raven promised to pay him a lump sum if he got away safely he’d have to keep silent. Yes, that was what he’d have to do.

Tomorrow he’d get Goshawk to arrange about the car. He’d have to steal some spare plates. He sat there making his plans until the room grew dim in the evening light, then, remembering, he wandered over to the window. Across the way she had come in and had put on the light. He sat down and watched her behind the curtain. She didn’t dance that night, but sat limply in a chair, staring at the opposite wall, as lonely and as dejected as Raven himself.

17

September nth, 10.15 a.m.

RAVEN regarded himself in the mirror. He saw reflected there a thin, well−dressed man, whose eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. His hair and slight moustache were almost white. It wasn’t the Raven he knew. He was confident that no one could possibly recognize him.

He drew a deep breath.

“You look pretty good,” Goshawk said, looking at him. “I guess you could walk past any cop an’ get away with it.”

Raven nodded. “I’ll be tryin’ in a few days,” he said.

Goshawk gave a little snigger. “I’d like to be there to see it,” he said. “Yeah, I certainly would like to be there to see it.”

Both men smiled. Both men had their own secret thoughts, only Raven knew what was in Goshawk’s mind.

It was only by exerting tremendous self−control that he didn’t smash his fist into Goshawk’s face there and then.

When Goshawk had gone he went to the window. He felt strangely excited. Marie Leroy was getting ready to go out. She was adjusting a little hat in front of her mirror.

He hesitated no longer. Crossing the room, he opened the door and went downstairs. In the street he took several deep breaths. It meant a lot to him after being cooped up in that one little room. Then he hurriedly walked to the end of the street.

A policeman came sauntering past him, and Raven felt a little tightness round his chest as he passed. The policeman took no notice of him and at the corner of the street Raven stopped and turned.

Marie Leroy had just come out of her house and was walking towards him. He liked the way she walked.

She took long, graceful steps and her body swung in harmony. He could see her breasts under the thin covering of her dress jerk a little as she moved. There was no doubt she was a honey all right.

He advanced towards her and as she drew level he raised his hat. The sun reflected on his pale silvery hair.

“Miss Leroy?” he said. “My name’s YoungJames Young.”

She stared at him. He could see she had very blue eyes. Then she said, “Oh yes,” and stood looking at him.

His thin lips smiled. “I guess you think I’m a little crazy, but I ain’t. You got my letter, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“We can’t talk in the street. There’s a coffee−shop further along here. May we go there?”

He turned and began to move along the street. She fell into step beside him. He nearly laughed. It was a push−over.

“My letter may have been a bit mysterious,” he said. “But when I explain, you can see how absurdly simple it is. Before we go any further, I’d like you to know that I’m a director of Lazard Film Company. I’ve just been back here to look up my old folks. I’m returning to Hollywood on Friday.”

He saw her eyes sparkle. “Gee!” she said. “You really mean you direct films?”

He nodded. “Yeah, an’ believe me it’s a lousy job.”

They entered the cafe and sat down. He ordered coffee and crackers.

“Now let me explain. I’ve got myself hooked up to an absurd bet, and I’m wantin’ you to help me out. It’s like this. One of the guys back in Hollywood was saying that every girl in the States wanted to be an actress. I told him he was crazy. So we got into an argument and one thing led to another until somehow or other I betted him that I could stop the first girl I met and could bring her back to Hollywood, and she wouldn’t want to be an actress. Do you follow me?”

Marie Leroy nodded, her blue eyes puzzled.

“Well, sister, believe it or not, every girl I’ve asked so far wants to be an actress. Well, I’ve quit tryin’. I’ve gotta go back on Friday an’ I’ll have to say I was licked. Well, it sticks, sister. I don’t like admittin’ I’m licked.

So I’m thinkin’ I’ll cheat a little. I heard from a guy that you want to go out there and you want to be a dancer.

Okay, I’ll take you there if you want to go, if you’ll first of all come to see my boy friend and tell him you want to dance and not act. And if you do this I’ll see you get in one of the dancin’ troupes down there.”

She said, “You wouldn’t be kiddin’, because if you are you’re playin’ an awful mean game.”

Raven shook his head. “I’m not kiddin’. Why so serious, sister? Are things goin’ badly for you?”

She nodded. “I guess they are,” she said, looking out of the window at the crowded street beyond. “I’m broke flat and nowhere to go.”

“Looks like your lucky day,” Raven said, feeling the blood surging through his veins. “Is it a bet?”

“It’s business, isn’t it?” she said.

Raven nearly laughed in her face. What the hell did she think? If she thought he was going to drive her half across America and not give her a tumble she was crazy.

“You don’t have to worry about that angle,” he assured her. “You won’t have any complaints.”

She played with the handle of her spoon. “You don’t mind if I’m straight with you, do you, Mr. Young?”

Raven shook his head. “I’d like it.”

“I want to go. In fact, it is the chance I’ve been dreaming about, but it’s too good to be true. I feel there’s a catch in it somewhere.”

“There isn’t, but if you feel nervous about it, I won’t press you.”

She looked at him as if trying to read his mind. She didn’t like the cold eyes or the thin mouth, but she knew she’d go. She couldn’t afford to do anything else. She had to get to Hollywood.

She said, “Well, thanks, I’ll go, anyway. Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but a girl’s got to be careful.”

Raven nodded. “It does me a lotta good to see you hesitate,” he said. “Some of the dames I’ve spoken to would have thrown in a lot of things to come with me. I don’t like that type of dame.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “Friday night about nine−thirty. I’ll pick you up. Don’t bring too much baggage, will you?”

He didn’t offer to shake hands. Out in the street he raised his hat. “Thanks a lot for helping me out, Miss Leroy.”

He watched her walk away and then he returned to his room. With a dame like that at his side, and a good car, his changed appearance, he’d get out of town. He wouldn’t even bother to sneak out. He was confident that he could go by the main streets and even wave to the Feds as he passed them.

18

September 13th, 9 p.m.

THE NIGHT was very hot and the moon rode high in tattered clouds.

Raven paced slowly backwards and forwards in his room. He had carefully drawn the blinds, and now he waited for the first step in his escape. In a few minutes Goshawk would come up. Around at the back was a two−seater car that had cost Raven plenty, waiting to take him to liberty. No one knew about his changed appearance except Goshawk. Raven’s thin face twisted a little.

He heard steps coming down the passage, and from force of habit his hand slid inside his coat, gripping his gun.

Goshawk knocked and Raven let him in. The two men looked at each other.

“So you’re off?” Goshawk said. “Takin’ the little dame with you?”

Raven controlled his face. This guy knew all the answers. He shook his head. “Car outside?”

“Sure!”

“Is she full?”

“Yeah. Take you a couple of hundred miles, if you ain’t stopped before then.” Goshawk sniggered.

Raven sat down on the bed. “Well, I guess I’ll settle up with you,” he said. He took out a small roll from his side pocket that he had specially prepared for Goshawk. “Let’s see, I’ve paid for the car and for a month’s rent. I’ll make you a present of that. Then I guess you’ll want a little consideration for keepin’ your trap shut, won’t you?”

Goshawk rubbed his hands. “They’re offering five grand for information that’ll lead to your arrest.”

Raven stiffened. “Five grand?” he repeated, staring at Goshawk.

“That’s right. A nice slice of change, ain’t it?”

Raven almost laughed. The fool had signed his own death warrant. No matter how much Raven gave him now, he’d squeal as soon as he could get to the cops. Five grand was too much money to pass up.

Raven got off the bed. “If I give you the same, you’ll be happy, won’t you?”

Goshawk’s little eyes glittered. “Sure,” he said. “That’s fair enough.”

Raven took another roll out of his pocket. “You’ll find five grand here, I think. Count it.” He put the roll into Goshawk’s trembling hands and wandered away to the window. He lifted the blind a trifle and glanced over at Marie’s room. He could see her moving about the room hurriedly. He guessed she was packing. Time was getting on. He glanced over at Goshawk, who sat on the bed counting the notes.

Drawing his gun and holding it by the barrel, he approached Goshawk. “You’ve got enough dough there to make you rich,” he said casually, coming closer step by step.

Goshawk nodded, muttering figures as he laid the bills down on the bed. Raven was right behind him, and he swung his arm. Goshawk suddenly cringed and he gave a thin little cry of terror as he saw Raven’s shadow on the soiled sheet, the upraised arm coming down and the gun, looking three times its size, in the big distorted hand.

The gun−butt cracked his skull and he fell across the bed, blood and brains oozing out of a hole that appeared suddenly in his head.

Raven stepped back hastily. He knew he didn’t have to strike again. The blow had jarred his hand and arm badly. He stood looking down at Goshawk, a feeling of relief surging through him. The one man who knew enough to have him burnt was silenced for ever. Now he was free. All he had to do was to walk out, get in the car, pick up the Leroy dame and beat it.

He dragged Goshawk further on to the bed and covered him with a blanket. Anyone looking in the room would think that Raven was there, sleeping. He covered the head with a pillow and then he paused to light a cigarette. He glanced at the clock. It was twenty past nine. All was working satisfactorily. As he turned to the door his eye alighted on the wall calendar.

FRIDAY, 13th SEPTEMBER

made him pause.

“My lucky day,” he said with a forced laugh, and went out, locking the door and removing the key.

He met no one as he went downstairs. He let himself out the back way and at the end of the alley he found the big Chrysler waiting for him. He climbed in and started the engine. He could hardly believe that he was off, that he had a fast car under him, and that in a few hours St. Louis would be a long way behind.

He drove round the block once, and as the hands of a street clock moved to the half−hour, he drew up outside Marie Leroy’s apartment house.

She was standing in the hallway waiting, and as he drew up she picked up two handbags and ran down the steps. He made no effort to get out. From where he sat he could see people peering round curtains all down the street. He wasn’t going to let them give his description to the cops if anyone got suspicious.

“Can you manage?” he called. “The bags can go in the boot behind. It’s quite easy to open. My engine’s cold. I’ve got to nurse her along for a minute.”

“That’s all right,” she said, and he felt two thuds as the bags were dumped in the back. Leaning over, he opened the off−door and she got in. She wore the same red−and−white−spotted dress, and as she sat down the skirt rode up. Her long tapering legs sent a little shiver through him. She pulled her skirt down and laughed nervously. “Some car,” she said.

“Like it?” He engaged the gears. “We’ve got a mighty long way to go. I’ve been sleepin’ all the afternoon an’ I want to get as far as I can tonight.”

She relaxed back against the upholstered seat. “I like driving at night. When you get tired may I drive?”

He looked at her. “Can you?”

“Of course.”

This was something he hadn’t thought of. If they took it in turns to sleep and drive they’d halve the time.

“That’s fine,” he said, and meant it.

He drove steadily, keeping to an even forty miles an hour. He had no wish to get an excited speed cop on his trail. Goshawk had given him forged licence papers, but even with those he wasn’t going to take chances.

As they neared the outskirts of the town Marie said, “Look, there’s a barricade ahead. How exciting! You’ll have to stop.”

Raven eased the gun loose in its shoulder−holster and stopped the car a few feet from the swinging red light.

Three State troopers came up to the car. Two of them carried Thompsons.

Raven felt his mouth go dry, but he kept his head.

Marie leant out of the window. “What is it?” she asked.

They played a powerful light on her and then turned it on Raven, who had quickly removed his hat.

“What’s the trouble, officer?” he asked. “I wasn’t goin’ too fast, was I?”

“Let’s have a look at your papers, buddy,” the State trooper said, resting his foot on the running−board.

Raven noticed that the other two troopers had relaxed and were no longer pointing their guns at him.

He produced his papers. “Here you are,” he said.

Marie seemed to be getting on well with the other two troopers. Raven couldn’t hear what she was saying as she was leaning out of the window, but one of the troopers laughed suddenly and he heard her laugh too.

Hardly glancing at the licence papers, the trooper returned them. “Your wife, I guess?” he asked.

Raven nodded.

“Okay, bud, on your way.”

Raven engaged his gears and the car slid past the barricade. A sudden thought had struck him. He’d got to be damn careful with this girl. What a fool he’d been not to have remembered!

She said excitedly, “They’re looking for Public Enemy No. 1. A man called Raven. He’s supposed to be hiding in the town. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a little grin, “but I’ve got some news for you that’ll startle you. I was crazy to have brought you, sister.”

Her eyes opened. “Why?”

He continued to drive. “Ever heard of the Mann Act?”

“Why, yes? What’s that got to do with it?”

“Plenty. It’s an offence to take any dame but your wife over a State line. There’s a twenty−years rap hanging to it.”

Marie’s eyes opened. “Butbut they let us through.”

Raven’s mouth twitched. “YeahI told ’em you were my wife. The car, the clothes and the general set−up passed us.”

There was a long pause. Then Raven said, “Unless you agree to bein’ my wife on this trip, we’d better turn round.”

Marie stared straight in front of her. Then she said bitterly, “I might have guessed I’d have to pay one way or another for a trip like this.”

Raven put his foot on the brake and the car came to a standstill. “Say the word, sister, and back we go.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “It’s okay. I dare say it won’t kill me,” she said, and settled once more comfortably.

Raven sent the car shooting forward. He knew it was in the bag now.

Neither of them spoke for some time. The Chrysler tore through the night, ripping miles off the State Highway. As the hands of the dashboard clock crept on the night grew colder. Both of them began to feel stiff and chilly.

Raven said, “Just ahead is Williamsburg. I guess we’ll stop there for a drink.”

Marie rubbed her bare arms. “I’ll get a coat out when we get there,” she said.

In ten minutes they reached the town and Raven stopped the car outside a small all−wood hotel. He went round to the boot and helped her get out a light dust−coat. He also took out a rug.

They went into the hotel together. The clock was just striking a quarter to twelve. They went into a deserted lobby and ordered coffee and rum from a startled negro waiter.

“Tired?” Raven asked, as they sipped the steaming coffee.

She shook her head. “We’ll go on.” She was very decided about it. Raven grinned to himself.

They got up to go when they had finished. She said, “Shall I drive?”

He nodded. “Sure, if you want to. We’ll go on to Columbia, then maybe we’ll get some sleep.”

She bit her lip. “Couldn’t you sleep now? Then we could drive all the time.”

“So we could,” he said. “You’re sure in a hurry to get there, ain’t you?”

And he followed her out to the car.

19

September 14th, 11.10 a.m.

HOGARTY SAID, “Think it’s Raven?”

Jay and he stared down at the battered Goshawk. Two cops who stood in the room watched them with bored eyes. They never had much use for Federal Agents.

Jay shrugged. “It might be.”

“Let’s go over the ground again,” Hogarty said, turning from the bed. “The girl downstairs says that the guy who had this room never went out. Goshawk always took up his meals. No one else in the hotel ever saw him. That points to Raven, don’t it?”

Again Jay shrugged. “Maybe,” he said.

“Then the girl over the way. How does she fit in?”

“Suppose we talk to the kid again?”

They went downstairs, where a round−eyed maid stood waiting. Hogarty jerked his head. “Come inside here, sister, an’ let’s go through with it again. Your name’s Alice Cohen, ain’t it?”

The girl nodded.

“Your boss sent you across to the apartment house opposite to ask after a certain Marie Leroyright?”

Again she nodded.

“Well, go on.”

“He wanted to find out who she was. The landlady told me. She was a dancer who wanted to go to Hollywood.”

“Why should this guy Goshawk want to know that?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“You never saw the guy who had that room?”

“No, but Mr. Goshawk sent me out for some tinted spectacles and a bottle of hair bleach. He didn’t use them himself. I got to thinking they were for this fella who had the room.”

Hogarty and Jay exchanged glances.

“I see,” Hogarty said. “Anythin’ else.”

“I heard Mr. Goshawk arrange about buying a Chrysler car. I was surprised, because Mr. Goshawk was always tight with his dough. I thought he was steppin’ out a bit.”

“All right, baby, you’re doin’ fine.” Hogarty was excited. “I’ll talk to you again in a while. Just stick around.”

When she had gone he turned to Jay excitedly. “It looks like it. The troopers at the west barricade report that a blond guy with his wife passed through in a two−seater Chrysler.” He checked himself from a note−book. “They say the girl was wearing a red dress with pinhead white spots. Let’s go over an’ find out if that’s the dress this Leroy dame was wearing. If it is, we’ll get after them. They’re heading for Hollywood by the U.S. Highway 40.”

Jay followed him out of the hotel.

20

September 14th, 11.50 p.m.

RAVEN said, “We’ll stop at Odessa for the night.”

Marie clenched her fists, but said nothing. The continuous driving had unnerved both of them, and Raven had lost patience. He wasn’t going to drive like this day and night, with her sitting at his side. What the hell did she think? She wasn’t just goin’ to sit around all day and all night, letting him take her free of expense all the way to Hollywood. It was time she paid for her trip.

“It’s a tough little town,” he said, “but it’ll do for the night. We’ll stop again at Kansas City. You’ll like that.”

She said, “It’ll take us weeks to get to Hollywood.”

“Not after tonight it won’t,” he said with a little grin. “Time’ll go fast enough after tonight.”

She looked at him uneasily, but said nothing. A few minutes later they drove into Odessa.

Raven stopped at a petrol station and had his tank filled. He asked where a hotel was, and then drove in the direction indicated.

As they got out of the car he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Young, baby, an’ don’t forget it.”

She walked into the lobby without answering. A negro came out at a run and took their bags. Raven went over and signed the register. The clerk blotted the ink, looked at the name, gave a little start, and glanced up at Raven searchingly.

“Anythin’ wrong?” Raven asked, his eyes suddenly going hard.

The clerk shook his head. “Quite okay, sir,” he said. “You’ve omitted to say where you’ve come from.”

Raven took up the pen and scribbled “Jefferson City", then he turned away.

“A double room?” the clerk asked.

Marie stiffened.

“Sure,” Raven said, smiling at her. “An’ a double bed.”

There was no elevator, and they followed the negro up two flights of stairs.

“These hick hotels give me a pain,” Raven said.

Marie found she couldn’t answer him. Her heart was beating wildly, and she felt a little sick.

They went into a large, shabbily furnished room. The big iron double bed took up a lot of room. When the negro got his tip he left them with a broad grin.

Raven took off his hat and dust−coat and yawned. “How do you like it?” he asked, looking round.

“I think it’s horribly sordid,” Marie said with a little shudder. “Mr. Young, must we go through with this?

You could have given me a single room, couldn’t you?”

Raven grinned at her. “Sure I could.”

“You said it was business. You said I didn’t have anything to worry about. Can’t you see this is all horribly sordid?”

Raven sat on the bed. “I’ve brought you so far,” he said, “and I guess I’m entitled to a little consideration from you. But I won’t force myself on you. I’ll put it like this. If you want to go on with me you’ll stay here tonight and be nice. If you want either to stay in this burg an’ rot or walk back to St. Louis, then I’ll go off now an’ take the car an’ leave you to it. What’s it to be?”

She said, “Oh, all right. You’ve got me where you want me, haven’t you? I trade my body for the ride.

That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

Raven’s face twitched. “I thought of lettin’ you down easy,” he said between his teeth, “but if you’re goin’

to swap smart cracks you’ll go the whole way.”

She sat on the other side of the bed away from him and began to cry. “My God!” she said. “I’ve been a fool.”

He suddenly lost patience with her and pushed her on to the bed. She saw the sudden lust that had come into his eyes and for a moment a scream hovered in her throat.

Raven said, “Don’t yell.” He pinched her jaw between two fingers. “Do you want to go through with this or shall I beat it?”

She lay flat on her back and looked up at him. She saw the blank lustful look that made him almost animal.

She could see the little beads of sweat standing out on his toad−coloured skin. She could see his body trembling and she could feel the vibrations shaking the bed. She wanted to say no, but she knew he’d have no mercy on her. He’d leave her here. She had one dollar and forty cents in her purse. What could she do with that?

So she shut her eyes, blotting out the strange inhuman face so close to hers, and through dry lips she told him to go ahead.

He put his hand on the front of her dress and ripped it. The thin material tore easily. She half sat up, but he shoved her down again. “Stay still,” he said, his eyes blazing savagely. “I’ll buy you everything you want.

Stay still.”

“No, not like this,” she said, taking his wrist in both hands as he gripped her slip. “Pleaseit’s horrible. Not like this.”

“Let go. Do you hear? Let go.”

Her hands dropped away as he ripped the silk from her and the hot night air slid over her frightened nakedness. She put both her hands over her eyes and began to cry.

Her long white body and her tight drawn−up breasts inflamed him. He reached out two shaking hands towards her, when a heavy rap sounded on the door.

For a second Raven stood paralysed. Then his instinct overrode his lust and he jerked up, his hand pulling his gun from its holster.

“What is it?” he said. His voice sounded cracked and hoarse to him.

Marie half turned on her side, hiding her head in her arms. Her white shoulders heaved with her crying.

“Come on out, Raven, with your hands in the air,” someone called.

Raven turned very cold. His mind sprang to the clerk and the start he’d given when he had signed the book.

He was trapped. He hadn’t even the Thompson, which, like the crazy fool he was, he’d left in the boot of the car. He fired one shot that crashed through the door and he heard footsteps move hastily away.

Marie sat up on the bed with a scream. “What is it?” she said, staring at his gun. “Why are youshooting?

What”

Raven turned on her savagely. “Shut up!” he snarled.

“Hi, Raven,” someone called again, “you can’t get away. The place’s surrounded. Better give up. You’ve got no chance in the world.”

“Come an’ get me!” he shouted back savagely, sending another shot through the door.

“Raven?” Marie gasped. “Are you Raven?”

He turned on her. “Yeah. Now you know, you stupid little bitch. You got me outta town, do you understand? Now, by God, you’ll get me out of here too!”

Shoving his gun into his side pocket, he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. He wrenched off the ripped clothes that hung on her.

She was too terrified to feel her shame. “What are you going to do with me?” she said.

“You’re goin’ out there,” Raven told her, pulling his gun out again. “You’re goin’ to walk in front of me. If they shoot at me it’s goin’ to be too bad for you.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not my fight. You wouldn’t force me into this… please… not like this!”

Twisting her arms behind her, he gripped her two wrists in one of his hands, then, crouching close behind her, he shoved her to the door.

“I’m comin’ out!” he yelled. “Don’t shoot. I’m comin’ out.”

In a low, savage voice, he said to her, “If you faint, or try any tricks I’ll spread your goddamn’ guts all over the town.” He rammed the cold gun into her backbone, making her cry out with the pain, then he unlocked the door and pushed her out.

The two Federal Agents were so startled when Marie suddenly appeared that for a moment they hesitated.

It was that moment that Raven had gambled on. He fired twice almost as one shot. The flash of the gun burnt Marie’s arm and she screamed wildly.

The two Agents slowly folded up, one of them shot through the head and the other in the middle of his chest.

Raven said, “Keep moving.”

He ran her along the passage, but there was no one about. They went downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs the night clerk lurked, staring up with terrified eyes.

The sight of Marie’s naked body seemed to mesmerize him. Raven shot him between the eyes.

He shoved Marie down the stairs fast and they crossed the deserted lobby. Through the open door he could see the Chrysler still parked outside. Another car stood near it, but it was empty.

His brain worked swiftly. The clerk would have reported to the Federal Field Office that he’d come to the hotel. The Feds would send out the alarm and then come on over. In a town like Odessa it was nearly a safe bet that there were only two Feds. The talk of surrounding the place was bluff.

Cautiously he pushed Marie out into the street. No one fired at him. Taking a deep breath, he ran her across to the car. “Get inside,” he snarled. “Quick.”

She pulled open the door and climbed in. Raven looked over his shoulder, saw something move in the shadows, fired once and then scrambled under the wheel. Desperately he trod on the starter, and as the engine sprang into life he set the car bounding forward.

Marie sat crouched away from him, covering her breasts with her arms and shivering as the cold wind bit into her body.

“Sit still and hold your trap,” Raven said, “or I’ll finish you.”

He knew it was too risky to go on to Kansas and he turned off on to the dirt road that led to Fayetteville.

The needle of the speedometer climbed until it stood at 65. On a dirt road that was fast enough. As he drove his mind crawled with schemes. His hair no longer afforded him a disguise. They must be on to that. God!

These Federal dicks were smart. If he could only put enough miles between them before they reached Odessa he might stand a chance of beating them. Otherwise it would mean a show−down.

Marie said in a low voice, “Can’t you stop a moment? I’m freezin’.”

“I’d rather you freeze than me burn,” he said with a savage laugh. “Sit on the floor, it’s warmer down there.

I ain’t stoppin’ for no one.”

She slid off her seat and crouched down on the floorboards. “Can’t you let me go?” she pleaded. “I’m no use to you now.”

He considered this, then decided to take her a little further. “You shut up,” he said. “I don’t want another yap outta you.”

The road improved as the car ate up the miles, and he was able to increase his speed. He swung through Fayetteville at a terrific speed, and headed south again.

He knew he’d got a tank full of petrol, and with luck he ought to shake them. After a few miles he slowed down and got out.

He said to Marie, “If you move I’ll shoot you.”

He ran round to the boot and opened it, pulling the Thompson out. He hesitated about taking out one of her bags, then slammed the boot to. To hell with it, he wasn’t going to waste time on her.

He stood looking back into the darkness. Far away he could make out two pin−points of light. He knew what they were at once. A car was coming at a great speed. It might not be the Feds, but it was too risky to take chances.

He ran back to the car and climbed in, putting the Thompson behind his head along the top of the seat.

He started the car again and drove off at a furious pace. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It showed 2.30. Somehow or other he’d got to get under cover before daylight. He’d got to ditch the car and he’d got to get another. He looked down at Marie, who seemed to have fallen into a doze. He’d got to get rid of her.

His mouth tightened. It was tough on her, but she’d have to go for good. The pin−points of light were no nearer. He could see them dancing in his rear mirror. They must be three or four miles away. Maybe they could see his own headlights. He hesitated, then reached forward and turned them out. The road, down which he was roaring, suddenly disappeared and he automatically eased up on the accelerator. He sat forward to peer into the darkness. This wasn’t going to help his speed, but at the same time he wasn’t showing himself to the Feds.

Ahead of him he could just make out a turning; he swung the car, braking as he did so. It was quite a narrow road, bordered by tall trees. He forced the car forward again, gaining speed. There was a good chance that the pursuing car would go on past. They might think he was heading for the State Highway again, which he knew linked up the road he’d been on previously.

He glanced back and then he felt the car run off the road. Instinctively he jammed on his brakes, but he was too late. The car crashed against some trees with such violence that he was nearly shot through the wind−screen.

Marie woke with a start and gave a little scream. Raven climbed out of the wrecked car, cursing. He was badly shaken, and lurched when he walked.

Through the trees, on a crest of a hill, he could see the lights of the following car coming towards them rapidly. He turned and dragged Marie out of the car.

“Not a sound,” he said, his gun digging into her side.

She stood close to him, her body shivering with shock and cold, and they both watched the lights come nearer. Faintly the wail of a siren split the air.

Raven showed his teeth. It was a Federal car, then. He waited, holding his breath as the lights grew larger.

Then with a snarl and a roar the car swept past the turning he had taken and roared on into the night.

Raven relaxed limply. He wiped the cold sweat off his face. “Come on, you,” he said to Marie, “we’ve got a little walk on.”

Then, as she moved slowly towards the car, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t take her any further. Now was the time to finish her, not later.

In the misty moonlight he could see her tall white body with its graceful lines, and again he wanted her.

Throwing caution aside, he took two quick steps towards her and pulled her round. She gave a gasp of terror when she realized what he was going to do. She began to struggle and he was startled at her strength. They swayed together on the uneven ground and then she began to scream.

Raven broke away and swung his fist. It landed on her cheek−bone, high up. She staggered and, still screaming, fell to the ground. Raven knelt at her side, pinning her flat. “Shut up!” he said, gripping her arms viciously. “Make another sound an’ I’ll finish you.”

She stopped screaming, but she still fought, twisting and pulling, trying to get free.

He said, “Lie still. Do you heardamn you? Lie still.”

She went limp suddenly, throwing her arms wide. One of her hands touched a heavy stone and her fingers closed round it. She tried to get the stone out of the ground.

Something was happening to her. She said: “Nonono” But one of his hands gripped her throat, and then, with a tremendous effort, she swung the stone wildly and hit him violently on the side of his head.

21

January 3rd, 11.45 p.m.

SNOW FELL heavily, but there was quite a crowd outside the State Prison gates.

Hogarty and Jay pushed their way through and showed their passes to the guard. They were glad to get inside for warmth.

Jay said, “It gets me why the hell those guys come to stand outside.”

Hogarty took off his coat. “They’re hopin’ to catch a glimpse of the executioner. They don’t know, but they haven’t got a chance. He comes in a side entrance.”

Jay looked round the bare room nervously. “I’ll be mighty glad when this is over,” he said. “I never liked executions.”

Hogarty shrugged. “It’ll be a pleasure to see a rat like that burn,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“It’s a long time ago, isn’t it?” Jay said. “At least, it seems like it to me.”

Hogarty nodded. “Come on and meet Davies. I know him quite well.”

Jay hesitated. “Davies? You mean the executioner?”

“Yeah. Quite a guy. Come on an’ meet him.”

Jay followed him out of the room. One of the guards nodded to Hogarty. “What do you want, pal?” he said.

“Goin’ along to see Davies,” Hogarty said.

The guard told him where to go.

The execution−shed was across the courtyard, but they went round to it by a long passage and came in through a back door.

As they entered the little room Jay felt a slight sinking feeling. The chair stood opposite several wooden pews. A tall, thin man was standing by the chair, watching an electrician working. He glanced up when Hogarty crossed the room. His worn face lit up a trifle when he saw Hogarty. He shook hands. “This is your case, ain’t it?” he said.

Hogarty nodded. “I want you to meet Ellinger,” he said. “Ellinger, this is Davies.”

Jay shook hands.

“Ellinger was the guy who first got on to Raven. He’s one of us now,” Hogarty explained.

“Some case,” Davies remarked, chewing his long moustache. “I got a kick out of readin’ about it in the tabloids. You know, I’m glad I’m going to be the guy who sends him over. I’ve never felt more convinced that a man deserves this as this guy does. Some of those dames he handled had a mighty bad time of it.”

“Well, they avenged themselves all right. That Leroy dame caught him. We’d lost him all right when we heard shots, and when we got to them there she was half crazy, stark naked, running round in circles and he lying there knocked silly. Believe me, if she hadn’t popped with the gun, we’d have gone past.”

Davies grunted. He turned back to the chair. “I’ve just got to test this, if you boys’ll excuse me.”

The electrician handed him a board on which were a number of electric light bulbs. He put the board across the arms of the chair and then went over to the switch.

“Know anythin’ about this, mister?” he asked.

Jay shook his head.

“Take the switch. It opens in oil. See? That prevents it sparking. We use 2,000 volts. Now watch.” He turned the switch away from him. The bulbs across the chair−arms flashed up. “That means the juice is goin’

through all right. It’s the only way to test the current. Okay, Joe,” he said to the electrician. “You can disconnect.”

He picked up a small suit−case and opened it. “I always bring my own electrodes.” He took out a baseball helmet. “This is for the head. I’ve got an electrode in here, and, as you can see, the helmet is lined with sponge. The sponge is moistened with a saline solution. It stops burning. You gotta watch all that. You gotta watch sparks as well. Wouldn’t do to have burning an’ sparks; upsets the witnesses.”

He went over to the bucket and moistened the sponge.

Hogarty said in a low voice, “I guess we’d better sit down. The witnesses will be in in a minute.”

They took up their positions in the last pew. Jay said, “This is giving me a guts−ache.”

Before Hogarty could answer the door opened and a number of solemn−faced people filed in. There was a little confusion as they selected their seats.

Jay said suddenly, “For God’s sake,” and pointed with his eyes.

Sadie Perminger had just come in. She stood in the doorway, hesitating for a moment, and then she walked quickly to the front pew and sat down.

Jay had only a brief flash of her face, which was cold and bitter. She was dressed in black with a little black−and−white hat.

“How the hell did she get here?” Jay whispered.

“Raven asked her. You know the condemned can ask one person to see him go. Well, he asked her.”

Jay stared at him.

“Maybe he thought it would amuse her,” Hogarty said dryly.

Jay half looked over his shoulder. “They’re coming,” he said.

Down the corridor they could hear the steady tramp of feet. The door swung open and two guards came in.

Raven walked after them. The minister and the Warden came last.

Raven looked round the small room and walked to the chair. His face was the colour of a fish’s belly, but otherwise he seemed quite calm.

“That the guy?” he said, looking at Davies.

Davies came over to him and offered his hand. Raven looked at it, then shook hands.

“I’ll get it over quick, son,” Davies said in a low voice.

“Don’t rush yourself,” Raven said with a little sneer. “It’s all the time I’ve got.”

Two guards led him to the chair and he sat down.

The Warden came close to him and whispered. Raven said in a hard voice, “Sure, I’ll say somethin’.”

He looked slowly at each face in front of him, until his eyes met Sadie’s. She looked at him with cold, implacable hatred, and he grinned.

“Well, boys,” he said, still keeping his eyes on Sadie, “this is my last little speech. I’ve had a nice run for my money an’ I ain’t scared of goin’. You all know what my racket was. If you guys didn’t want women, my racket wouldn’t have lasted long. Don’t forget that. All you smug−lookin’ heels who’ve come to see me burn are as much to blame as I am. You get tired of your wives an’ you want to have a fresh girl. So you come to me. That’s all it is. The supply can’t meet the demand. As long as you guys have the itch for a fresh girl, so will this racket go on. Nothin’ can stop it. Cops certainly can’t stop it. You can, but no one else. When you’ve all made up your minds to spend the rest of your nights with your wives, then girls won’t have to trade their bodies. But you’ll never do that. When I’m gone, someone else will take my place. There’s always a demand and someone’s gotta supply that demand.”

He looked round the room again and then his eyes met Davies. “Come on, pal,” he said, “get me outta here quick. These punks make me sick.”

The guards, while he had been speaking, had already strapped him to the chair. Davies fixed the electrode to his leg and then swiftly the baseball helmet was fitted on his head.

Raven drew a long deep breath. “It’s a pity I’ve got to leave my trains,” he said. “Let her rip.”

Davies had already stepped to the switch. He glanced at the Warden, who nodded. The switch went over and the lights dimmed. There came a sharp crackling sound and a whining cry of the current. Raven pitched forward, straining against the straps. A few sparks shot off the electrode on his leg, and a wisp of grey smoke appeared, coming from the top of the helmet.

Davies pulled the switch back so that Raven slumped limply in the chair, then, after a pause, the switch was thrown forward again. Raven once more plunged against the straps, only to sink back as the current was cut off.

Jay found he was trembling. He glanced over at Hogarty, who continued to chew, unmoved.

The doctor stepped forward and gingerly opened Raven’s shirt. Jay could see the flesh bright red and sweating. With a towel the doctor wiped the sweat away, then with his stethoscope he listened for heart−beats.

He stood up. “I pronounce this man dead,” he said.

The guards made signs for the witnesses to leave. As they were filing out Sadie suddenly turned back. Her face was still contorted with hatred, and now she looked a little mad. Before anyone could stop her she darted forward and spat in Raven’s face.

THE END