1978 - Consider Yourself Dead (8 page)

‘Sure . . . down in the shooting gallery.’

Shoving past Umney, Frost took the elevator down to the basement. He found Silk talking to Moses. As soon as Moses saw Frost, he moved away and began busying himself cleaning guns.

Frost planted himself before Silk.

‘I owe you four,’ he said, and taking out his wallet, he extracted four one thousand dollar bills and thrust them at Silk.

‘No you don’t friend,’ Silk said, and his thin lips moved into what could be taken for a smile. ‘We got our lines crossed. That stupid hunkhead, Ross, should have told me. How was I to know you are a friend of my niece?’

Frost stared at him.

‘Your niece?’

‘Yeah . . . Marcia. When she heard I’d taken you for a ride, she beat the ears off me.’ He laughed. ‘I apologise, Mike. I didn’t know you’re one of us. You owe me nothing.’

Frost felt a rush of blood to his head.

‘We made a bet. I don’t give a damn who you are. I pay my debts!’

Silk continued to smile.

‘Take it easy, friend,’ he said. ‘I run a racket here. I shoot for a living. I con suckers, but not friends. I apologise. Okay?’

Frost hesitated, then relaxed.

‘You sure can shoot. Okay.’

Silk nodded.

‘We fast buck folk are all in some racket,’ he said, and taking out a pack of cigarettes, he offered it. ‘Marcia tells me you’re guarding the Grandi babe.’ He laughed. ‘Some racket! Some babe!’

Frost grinned. He was so relieved that he hadn’t to part with four thousand dollars, his previous assessment that Silk could be dangerous began to fade. Also he liked Silk’s remark about ‘fast buck folk.’ That’s what he was: hunting for the fast buck.

‘That’s a fact,’ he said. ‘Well, it’s a job.’ He put the bills back into his wallet. A thought dropped into his mind. He would tell Gina he had paid his debt, give her I two thousand and the hock ticket, and keep the four thousand for himself.

A heavily built man came out of the elevator and moved towards Silk.

‘Hi, Lu,’ he said. ‘You want a little bet?’

Silk went into his senile act.

‘You bet too high for me, Mr. Lewishon.’

‘Aw, come on! Four to one with target rifles.’

Frost headed for the elevator. Some racket! he thought. What the hell was he doing, sitting in a guardroom at six hundred a week! He was sure Silk would be picking up four thousand in the next half hour!

Ross Umney was hanging around the elevator as Frost reached the restaurant floor.

‘You want to eat, Mike?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already eaten. Where’s Marcia?’

‘Tied up right now.’ Umney leered. ‘A girl has to work. I want you to meet a good friend of mine. He’s got influence.’

Umney linked his arm into Frost’s arm and led him down a corridor, opened a door and led him into a small room where Mitch Goble was waiting.

Goble was chewing his way through a vast hamburger.

He wiped his fat fingers on a serviette, got to his feet, and beamed at Frost.

‘Mitch, I want you to meet a good friend of Marcia’s,’ Umney said. ‘Mike Frost.’

Goble extended his hand.

‘A pleasure, Mike. I’ve heard about you . . . you’re one of us people.’

They all sat down at the table.

‘Have a drink?’ Umney said and snapped his fingers.

A waiter appeared.

‘Scotch?’ Umney asked, looking at Frost who nodded.

Frost was regarding Goble, unable to place him. His clothes were casual but expensive. His fat, swarthy face wasn’t prepossessing, and, Frost thought, the genial smile could be a front.

‘How are you liking this little city?’ Goble asked.

‘Fine.’

‘Yeah . . . you’ve got yourself a sweet location,’ Goble went on. ‘The Grandi’s pad must be quite something. You like it?’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ Frost had a feeling that Goble was probing. During his service with the N.Y. cops, he had often run into men like Goble: smooth, dangerous operators. He decided to do some probing himself. ‘What’s your racket?’

The waiter arrived with the drinks, then he whispered something to Umney who scowled.

‘Always something in this joint. Have to leave you boys. There’s a creep who is moaning.’ He tossed off his drink, patted Frost on his shoulder, said, ‘Mitch’ll look after you,’ and he left.

Frost remembered the same performance when Umney had left him alone with Silk. He became very alert.

‘My racket?’ Goble said, and cut himself another hunk off his hamburger. ‘I set up operations. Some guy comes to me and says he has an idea to make dough, what do I think about it? I look at the operation and tell him yes or no. Call me the outside man looking in.’

‘Is that right?’ Frost sipped his drink. ‘Get you anywhere?’

‘Oh, sure. We fast buck folk squeeze up a living.’ Goble laughed. ‘Marcia tells me you’re taking care of the Grandi babe. Only last week, I had a guy with a nutty idea he could snatch that babe and pick up twenty million dollars. I told him he should get his head examined.’ He paused and stared directly at Frost. ‘Right?’

Frost felt a prickle run up his spine.

‘Right . . . what?’

Goble paused to finish the hamburger, sighed, then shook his head.

‘No way to snatch the babe,’ he said. ‘Right?’

‘Your guy can try,’ Frost said quietly. ‘He can get himself torn to pieces by four Doberman Pinschers. If the I dogs don’t get him, I will.’

Goble put a surprised look on his face.

‘Dogs, huh? Still, dogs can be taken care of.’ He looked reflective. ‘Twenty million bucks! That’s real bread!’

Twenty million! Frost thought. Yes, Grandi would pay that to get his daughter back.

‘Anyway, Mike, I told this guy to forget it,’ Goble went on. ‘I once had the same idea, and I cased the joint . . . no way. This wop fink has really taken care of it.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Yeah.’ Goble sipped his drink. ‘Since then I’ve thought about it. There’s no problem that can’t be solved. Twenty million! Bread like that gives me daydreams. Just suppose four smart operators really got together. Suppose they did snatch this babe. That’d be five million each.’

Five million! Frost thought. That kind of money would set him up for life! He kept his expression deadpan as he said, ‘You just said there was no way.’

‘I thought that a couple of months ago,’ Goble said. ‘I keep thinking. It doesn’t hurt me to think.’ He looked at Frost, then said, ‘The Trojan horse.’

Frost frowned.

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘My old man was a nut about Greek history.’ Goble said. ‘He bent my ears with all this gaff about the Greeks. There was a fink called Ulysses. The Greeks were besieging the Trojans and getting nowhere. This fink made a big wooden horse and he put soldiers in it and he kidded the Trojans they would be sitting pretty if the horse was put in the city. The jerks fell for it. The soldiers spilled out at night and opened the gates and the Trojans got skewered. To snatch this babe I’d want a Trojan horse . . . an inside man: maybe one of the staff. They have ten people keeping that joint running. Maybe one of them could be got at.’ He shrugged. ‘I think. It’s my job. Could be I also need my head examined.’

Frost stared at him. Was he being propositioned? Five million! He had come to Paradise City to make money, but to date, he had only landed a job for six hundred a week . . . chick-feed! Goble had said, ‘Maybe one of the staff could be got at.’ That was a direct hint. Frost, looking at the fat man, was now sure he was being propositioned. This was something he needed to think about. Play hard to get, he told himself, as he got to his feet.

‘Yeah . . . get your head examined,’ he said curtly, and walked out, leaving his drink untouched.

Goble finished his drink, then reached for the drink Frost had left. Silk came silently into the room, closed the door and sat at the table. He had been listening to the conversation that had been relayed to him by a hidden microphone.

‘Nice work, Mitch,’ he said. ‘You handled it just right.’

Goble nodded.

‘So what now?’

‘We’ll give him time to think. He’s a real fast worker. Hot pants gave him the ring - unless he stole it, but I don’t dig that. Amando was away for the night. She wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like that. My guess is he screwed her, told her he was in the hole for four thousand, and to keep him, she gave him the ring.’ Silk rubbed his bony hands together. ‘It’s moving our way, Mitch. We wait.’

Goble stared thoughtfully at Silk.

‘Don’t take this guy for a sucker, Lu. I’ve a feeling he could be tricky.’

Silk allowed a wintry smile to crease his face.

‘I can be tricky too,’ he said.

* * *

Five million dollars!

Frost had driven away from the restaurant and down to the beach. He had found himself an isolated spot under the shade of a palm tree, and had sat down on the sand to think.

The photo swam slowly into focus. The setup had begun with his chance meeting with Marcia - Silk’s niece.

Probably, she had been told to look out for a likely stooge.

Probably, Silk had got inside information that the second guard wouldn’t last long, so he had planned ahead. Maybe, Joe Solomon was working with Silk. He (Frost) must have seemed to Silk to be a gift from heaven.

The Trojan horse!

Silk had been smart enough to know there was no way of snatching Gina without an inside man, so he had picked on him.

Frost dug his fingers into the hot sand while he thought.

Five million dollars! Suppose he played along? Suppose Silk had a safe, working plan? Frost’s eyes narrowed as he thought. Goble had talked of a fourth man - Umney? A four way split - five million dollars each. What he couldn’t do with bread like that! Frost’s thinking switched to Marvin. Suppose Gina was snatched? Would Grandi scream for the cops? Thinking about this, Frost decided he wouldn’t. He would pay up, but Marvin, shrewd ex-cop as he was, would know there had to be an inside man, and he would point a finger at Frost.

It was one thing to snatch the girl, but something else besides, to get the ransom. When the ransom was paid and Gina returned, the heat would be on. Frost grimaced.

He would be suspect number one. Silk must know this.

Frost let sand trickle through his fingers.

He wouldn’t be Silk’s stooge. If he was caught, he certainly wouldn’t let Silk go free to spend the ransom. He would talk his head off, and Silk must know this.

Frost rubbed his hand over his sweating face. If he decided to act as the inside man, the snatch wouldn’t be too difficult, but collecting and spending the ransom seemed to him, to be impossible.

He thought some more, but couldn’t find a solution.

He felt sure that Silk wouldn’t stick his neck out unless he had a foolproof plan. What was it?

For the next half hour, Frost sat staring at the glittering sea, his mind busy. Then, with a sudden nod of his head, he made his decision. He would pretend to play along with Silk, listen to Silk’s plan, examine it, then opt out or opt in, depending how convincing Silk was.

As he got to his feet, he looked at his watch. The time was 15.15. He had five hours to kill before returning to the Grandi residence. He wondered if he should return to the Ace of Spades and see Marcia. He shook his head: play hard to get. He decided to take a closer look at Paradise City, and walked to where he had parked his car.

Five million dollars!

He kept thinking of owning such a sum. His mind was so occupied with visions of how he would spend money like that, he failed to observe a lean, tall youth with long greasy hair, a face like a ferret’s, wearing a T-shirt and dirty jeans, swing his leg over a powerful Honda motorcycle and come after him as Frost drove on to the highway and headed for the city.

This youth, known as Hi-Fi, worked for Mitch Goble.

He was a heroin addict. Goble kept him supplied with just enough money to buy his next fix. Goble had told him to keep tracks on Frost and never let him out of his sight.

Still thinking about a possible future, Frost drove into Paradise City and parked the T.R. outside an amusement arcade. Leaving the car, he wandered into the arcade which was humming with activity. Crowds of young people jostled around spending their dimes, eating hot dogs, screaming at each other.

Frost jostled his way to the shooting range. A fat, smiling Polak handed him a rifle. It was a way to kill time, Frost thought as he settled himself and took aim at the distant target.

Hi-Fi melted into the crowd, his eyes on Frost’s broad back.

Frost had taken the centre of the target out when he heard a voice say, ‘You Frost?’

He lowered the rifle and turned to find a tall, wiry man, with a lined sun-tanned face and clear ice blue eyes at his side.

He knew at once that this man was a cop.

‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

‘Tom Lepski. City police,’ Lepski grinned and offered his hand.

Lepski? Frost’s mind became very alert. He remembered Marvin had said Lepski was a first grade detective, and a good friend of his. It had been Lepski who had told Marvin that Grandi had needed a bodyguard.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Jack mentioned you.’

‘Yeah. He and I are buddies,’ Lepski said. ‘I saw the T.R. out front, so I thought I’d meet you.’

‘Glad you did.’ Frost laid down the rifle. ‘Just amusing myself.’

‘Jack said you were some shot.’ Lepski eyed the distant target. ‘Yeah . . . you sure are. You got a minute? Suppose we go over to Joe’s across the way for a beer?’

‘Why not?’

As they left the arcade, Hi-Fi went after them. He watched them enter the bar across the street, hesitated, then walked fast to a telephone booth. He called Silk.

‘Our creep is chatting it up with Lepski,’ Hi-Fi reported.

Silk’s face tightened. This was unexpected and bad news.

Was Frost alerting the cops that Goble had propositioned him? After a moment’s thought, he decided not. Five million, to a man like Frost, was too big a temptation for him to shoot off his mouth to a cop.

‘Stay with him, but watch it,’ Silk said, and hung up.

Settled at a corner table with beers before them, Lepski said, ‘You’ve got yourself a sweet job.’ He grinned. ‘The City police are right behind Mr. Grandi. He takes care of us, so we take care of him. His daughter stays safe.’