12 Chinks and A Woman (18 page)

      
     Dead woman you thought Marian proved by finger prints to be kidnapped daughter of Andrew Lindsay. Suggest Marian not all she seems. Paula.
      
     Fenner crumpled the cable slowly in his hand. “So that's that,” he said. “Now I guess I can finish this.”
     He took one more look at Nightingale, then softly walked out of the bungalow.
      
     Where was Glorie? Now that Thayler was dead she was footloose again. Fenner thought he might find her with Noolen. She might, of course, have gone anywhere, but Noolen was worth trying. When a dame sees three men shot to death, and misses the same death by such a close margin, she's not likely to make smart plans. She had the skids under her and she'd go to the one person left whom she knew well. She ought to know Noolen all right, Fenner argued. He was her husband, wasn't he?”
     He got back on the main street, hired himself a taxi and went over to the Casino. Two patrolmen stood near the entrance and they both gave him a hard look as he ran up the steps. Fenner grinned as he saw this evidence of Noolen's caution. He went through the big hall that was just closing down. Only one light burned, and apart from two Cubans in shirt-sleeves, covering the tables with dust sheets, the hall was empty. They glanced up when Fenner came in.
     “Noolen in still?” Fenner asked, heading for the office.
     “He's busy right now,” one of the Cubans said, trying to intercept him. Fenner beat him to the door, pushed it open and went in.
     Noolen, Kemerinski and Alex sat round the desk. A black unlabelled bottle and glasses stood before them, and they all were smoking. They all looked up, their faces startled, then, seeing Fenner, they relaxed. Noolen scowled at him. “What do you call this?” he said bitterly. “Schaife and Scalfoni dead, and these two guys nearly shot to hell. This your idea of smashing Carlos?”
     Fenner wasn't in the mood to play around with Noolen. He put his hands flat on the desk and looked Noolen in the face. “Pipe down, jughead. What've you got a bellyache about? Schaife and Scalfoni dead? So what? Think you can fight a war without any casualties? What about the other side? We've wiped out all their boats. We've burnt their base. Thayler's dead, Nightingale's dead, Miller's dead, Bugsey's dead, and six or seven others of the mob. Ain't that giving value for money?”
     Noolen sat staring at him. “Thayler?” His voice hardly reached above a whisper.
     Fenner nodded. “That leaves Carlos and Reiger, I particularly want those two guys myself. Then the gang's washed up.”
     Kemerinski said, “This guy knows what he's talkin' about. I'll play along with him still.”
     Alex nodded and grunted.
     Fenner said, “Okay. What are we waitin' for? Where's Whiskey Joe's?”
     “It's a joint near Nigger Beach.”
     Fenner turned to Noolen. “I'm goin' after Carlos. When I get back, I've got something to say to you. Stick around. This is the finish of this business.”
     He turned to the other two: “Get a couple of Thompsons. We're goin' to Whiskey Joe's. Carlos's over there.”
     Alex went away. Kemerinski said, “Just we three?” He sounded a little uneasy-
     Fenner shook his head. “I'm going. You two come in later and clear up the mess.”
     Fenner went out with Kemerinski. Alex was waiting in the car, nursing two Thompsons. As Kemerinski drove off, Fenner said, “You two take the guns. You wait outside until you hear shooting, then come in and blast everything you see. Don't stop shooting until there's nothin' to shoot at— get it?”
     Alex said, “This has been a swell night.”
     The big car went down Duval Street fast. Duval Street stretched right across the whole length of the island. It was late, and they met no cars. Kemerinski drove very fast. He cut speed as he reached South Street and swung the car to the right. At the bottom of South Street he drew to the curb and killed the engine. “Whiskey's over on the corner at Nigger Beach.”
     Fenner got out of the car and began walking down the street. The other two followed him, holding the Thompsons under their coats. Fenner said, “He's got a place at the back. Would you know it?”
     Alex said, “There's a warehouse round the back, maybe that's it.”
     “We'll go and look at it..”
     Whiskey Joe's bar had closed for the night. It was just a small pile of black woodwork in the darkness. Alex said, “Down this alley,” softly.
     Fenner said, “Stick around while I have a look. I'll be back.”
     He went down the alley, which was very dark and smelt of decay and dark-alley smells. He walked carefully, not sneaking, but making no noise. At the end of the alley was a small square. Turning right and coming up behind Whiskey Joe's, he could make out a big square building with a flat roof. That, too, was a black silhouette against the star-filled sky. He got closer found a door, tried it cautiously. It was locked. He moved along looking for a window, turned the corner and worked his way along the south side. Still no windows. Round the next corner an iron ladder set close to the wall led upwards into the darkness. Fenner guessed it would take him on to the roof.
     He went back fast and noiselessly to the other two waiting at the mouth of the alley. “I think I've found the dump,” he said. “There's only one door. All you two've got to do is to lie out there and start with the meat-grinder soon as they come out. Don't show yourselves, just lie flat and grind away.”
     He could see Kemerinski's teeth as he grinned. “I'll go up on the roof and send 'em out to you. Don't make mistakes, an' when you've done the job, beat it. I'll look after myself.”
     The two grunted to show they understood, and then Fenner retraced his steps to the building. He climbed up the iron ladder, testing each rung before he put his weight on it. He counted forty rungs before he reached the top. As his head came over the balustrade he saw in the centre of the roof a square skylight, through which a light was shining.
     Fenner knew that he'd have to be mighty careful how he crossed over. The slightest sound he made would be heard by anyone underneath. Before getting on to the roof he walked along the balustrade and looked over. He spotted Alex and Kemerinski hiding in a long ditch that was exactly opposite the door of the warehouse. They saw him and waved. He raised his hand, and then lowered himself from the balustrade to the roof.
     Holding his gun in his right hand, he inched his way across the space that divided him from the skylight. It took him quite a time, but he did it without a sound. Pushing his hat to the back of his head, he looked down into the room. Carlos was there. Reiger was there and another man he didn't know. They were within six feet of Fenner. The room was very low, like a loft, and Fenner was so startled that he hurriedly jerked back.
     Carlos was smoking on the bed. Reiger lolled, his head against the wall, in a chair; he was asleep. The other man dozed on the floor.
     Fenner looked at the cross-pieces between the panes of the skylight; he felt their thickness gently with his thumb. There was no substance in them. Then he straightened and, reaching out with his right foot, he placed it gently in the exact centre of the cross-pieces. He took a deep breath and pushed down with all his weight.
     The cross-pieces gave with a splintering noise and he and the glass crashed down into the room. He landed on his feet, staggered and jerked up his gun.
     Carlos lay very still on the bed, his cigarette jerking up and down in his mouth. The man on the floor went for his gun unconsciously. He was so dazed that his instinct took him to death. If he hadn't been dozing nothing on this earth would have made him go for the gun. Fenner shot him between the eyes.
     Reiger and Carlos were like frozen statues. They just stared at Fenner with fixed glassy eyes.
     Fenner said, “I want you,” to Carlos.
     The ash from Carlos' cigarette fell on his chest. He looked wildly at Reiger and then back to Fenner. “Gimme a break,” he said hoarsely.
     Fenner said, “Shut up. I've been layin' for you two. Now you're going to get what's coming to you. I'm not going to do it. You two guys can do it to yourselves. You can fight it out. The one who wins goes out of this joint. I won't touch him. Maybe you've heard I keep my word. Either that, or I'll knock the two of you off.”
     Reiger relaxed suddenly. He said, “I kill him and you don't touch me?” he sounded incredulous.
     Carlos crouched further against the wall. “Reiger!” he screamed. “Don't do it!” I'm your boss, do you hear? You're not to do it.”
     Reiger got slowly out of his chair, he had a fixed grin on his face.
     Fenner said, “Wait. Put your mitts up and face the wall.”
     Reiger scowled at him, but Fenner rammed his gun hard into his side. He put his hands up and turned round. Fenner took a gun out of his hip pocket and stepped back. “Stay there an' don't move.” He went over to Carlos, grabbed him by his shirt front and dragged him off the bed. A quick frisk told him Carlos hadn't a gun.
     Fenner walked to the corner of the room near the door and leaned against the wall. “What you waiting, for? Don't one of you want to go home?”
     Carlos began to scream at Reiger, but the look on Reiger's face told him he'd have to fight. Reiger, his hand held low, a set animal expression on his face, began to stalk after Carlos who circled the room swearing in a soft continuous flow. The room was too small to keep that up long. Reiger suddenly rushed in blindly, grabbing Carlos round the waist. Carlos screamed with terror, beat Reiger about his head with his clenched fists and tried to get away. Reiger began to hit Carlos in the ribs, driving in punches that sounded hollow. They swayed round the room, punching and mauling each other, then Carlos' heel caught in the mat and he went over with Reiger on top of him. Reiger grabbed him by his ears and hammered his head on the boards.
     He turned his head and grinned at Fenner. “I've got the louse now,” he panted. “By God, I've got him now!”
     Carlos reached up with his hands and drove two hooked fingers into Reiger's eyes, then he ripped down. Dug in again and scratched and ripped once more. A horrible sound issued from Reiger's chest and burst from his mouth in a sobbing croak. He fell away from Carlos. Holding one hand to his eyes and beating the air with the other, he began to blunder round the room. Carlos crawled to his feet, shook his head and waited for Reiger to go past him again. As he did so, he shot out a foot and brought Reiger down. Reiger fell on his face and lay there, moaning and kicking with his feet.
     Carlos had forgotten that Fenner was in the room. He saw only Reiger. Dropping on Reiger's back, he pinned him with his knees and fastened his red fingers round Reiger's throat. Then, with his knee planted in the middle of Reiger's back, he began to drag Reiger slowly backwards.
     Reiger beat on the floor with his hands, his eyes bolting out of his head. Carlos said, “Here it comes,” savagely, and flung all his weight into a vicious pull. Reiger gurgled, groped feebly for Carlos'-hands and then went limp. A faint snapping sound came and blood ran out of Reiger's mouth. Carlos threw him away and stood up trembling.
     Fenner leaned against the wall, covering Carlos with his gun. “You're lucky,” he said. “Beat it before I change my mind. Go on—dust, you—”
     Carlos took two staggering steps to the door and flung it open. Fenner heard him blundering downstairs and he heard him fumbling at the lock. He stood, his head on one side, listening. Then out of the night came a sound of two Thompsons firing. Both gave a long burst, then there was silence.
     Fenner put his gun away slowly and groped for a cigarette. “I guess I've had about enough of this burg. I'll go home and take Paula out for a change,” he said to himself. He climbed out of the skylight and let himself down the iron ladder. As he did so he heard the sound of a car starting. It was Alex and Kemerinski calling it a day.
     He went round and looked at Carlos. He had a tidy mind. He had had no doubt that those two would do a good job, but he liked to be sure. He need not have bothered. They'd done a good job. He brushed down his clothes with his hand, thinking busily, then he turned and walked back towards Noolen's place.
      
     Noolen started out of his chair when Fenner came in. He said, “What happened?”
     Fenner looked at him. “What do you think? They're horse flesh—both of them. Where's Glorie?”
     Noolen wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Dead? Both of them?” He couldn't believe it.
     Fenner repeated impatiently, “Where's Glorie?”
     Noolen put two trembling hands on the desk. “Why?”
     “Where is she, damn you!” Fenner's eyes were intent and ice-cold.
     Noolen pointed. “She's upstairs. You can leave her out of this, Fenner. I'm goin' to look after her now.”
     Fenner sneered. “What's the idea? You're not falling for any line of repentance she's likely to hand out, are you?”
     Noolen's face went a faint red. “I don't want any cheap cracks from you,” he said. “After all, she's my wife.”
     Fenner pushed back his chair. “For God's sake,” he said, getting to his feet, “there's no fool like an old fool! okay, if that's the way it stands.” He shrugged. “Quite a dame, this Glorie. Off with the dead money bags and on with the new.”
     Noolen sat there, his hooded eyes fixed, and his mouth a little twisted. He said, “Cut out your cracks, Fenner; I don't like them.”
     Fenner turned to the door. “I'm going to see that dame,” he said. “Where shall I find her?”
     Noolen shook his head. “You ain't,” he said, “Start somethin' here and you'll get a heap of grief.”
     “So? Okay, then I don't see her; but I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll be back in an hour's time with the cops and a warrant for her arrest.”
     Noolen sneered. “You got nothing on that dame,” he said.
     “Sure, I haven't. Only a murder rap. Still, what's a murder rap? Small change in your circle.”
     Noolen's fat hands twitched, and his puffy face took on a greenish tinge. “What are you talkin' about?” he said, with stiff lips.
     Fenner moved to the door. “You'll know. I haven't time to play around with you. I either see her now, or see her in jail. I don't give a damn which way it is.”
     Noolen's face glistened in the light of the desk lamp. He said, “Top door on the right upstairs.”
     Fenner said, “I won't be long, and you stay right where you are.” He went out and shut the door behind him.