Killer's Town (8 page)

cage, used by some long-gone animal dealer. Several men stopped beneath the cage and called up to her, but he was too far away to hear their words. He could hear their laughter as they walked on into the inn, and he saw her cover her face with her hands. On the other side of the town, he could see the wharf on the salt-water inlet A speedboat had pulled up, discharging several men with boxes. The Phantom climbed down, and made his way quickly through the bushes, around the town, getting close to the wharf. As he waited, a big amphibian plane roared down from the sky and made a smooth landing near the wharf. Several men rushed out to meet the plane and its passengers. The Phantom, crouched under bushes, was close enough to hear them.

"Killer, this here's Pug and Ossie. Broke out of a limey pen. Plenty of lettuce. Want room and board."

"Sure. We're expecting you boys. Rooms ready. Five hundred a night. Pay at the desk," said Killer.

"Five hundred? The bloke told us three," protested one of the arrivals.

"Ain't you heard of inflation? Everything's gone up," said the one called Killer. They all laughed, but without enjoyment.

"We also want to see your heist" continued Killer, pointing to a suitcase one man was carrying. "Diamonds, wasn't

it?"

"That's our business," said the man.

"Also ours. We want a cut. That's part of the rent."

The two arrivals turned angrily on the third man.

"You didn't tell us about that Eagle."

The skinny man shrugged.

"Killer makes the rules."

"Take it or leave it," said Killer. "If you know a better place, go to it."

The men stared at each other. One of the arrivals made a move toward his coat. The other one grabbed his arm.

"If that's a gun, park it at the desk," said Killer calmly.

"Nobody carries rods, except us," he said, pointing upward. The men looked up. A guard was on the roof of the wharf warehouse, pointing a rifle at them.

"Okay?" said Killer.

"Okay," said the man.

"That's the inn. Wait in my office," said Killer. The two men from the "limey pen" walked away, talking angrily to each other. Killer grinned at the man with him.

"Anything else, Eagle?"

"Sharp sent this with Pilot, for storage. From Hong Kong—half million in snow."

Killer whistled.

"Wow," he said, as they walked off.

I've seen enough, the Phantom told himself, as he crawled away through the bushes. That scene, plus the story from the Colonel on the phone, gave him a good picture of Killer's Town. Well named—a den of thieves and murderers. As for that poor girl in the cage, she was the first priority. He moved a half mile down the beach, through thickets and swamp, to reach a concealed clearing where he'd left Hero and Devil. He untied the pack roll behind the saddle, took out clothes and dressed—trousers, topcoat, sunglasses, scarf, hat—completely concealing his costume. Then petting his animals and giving them a command to wait, he returned to the wharf. He climbed a tall tree and waited.

There was a small gate here with an armed guard. A man left the amphibian plane tied to the dock and walked to the gate.

"Hi, Pilot," the guard greeted him.

"Hi."

There were happy little screams from inside as two young women rushed up to embrace Pilot, evidently a favorite. He embraced both of them. Then they lit cigarettes and talked excitedly. At the same time, the Phantom climbed out on a branch, then swung over the wall, avoiding the spikes and broken glass atop it, and landed lightly on the other side. He looked about quickly. No one had noticed him. Then he walked casually to the center of the town.

The two new arrivals, the "limeys", were standing beneath the cage with a third man.

"Hey, look at her. Who's she for?"

"Skip it, Ossie. Part of a special deal of the chief's."

"Chief?"

"Killer Koy."

The one called Ossie called an obscenity to the girl in the cage. The men laughed and went into the bar. The girl buried her face in her hands. "Will this nightmare ever end?" she asked herself, for the tenth or twentieth time. "I've got to be strong, I won't cry, she told herself as tears brimmed in her eyes. Two other men wandered out of the bar and looked up at the red-haired girl in her flaming silk shirt and riding pants. One of them called an obscene comment Caroline gritted her teeth, then yelled down at them.

"You filthy beasts. You're horrible, horrible."

"Who's filthy? I just had a bath."

A few other men peered out of the swinging doors. All

laughed.

"The Colonel's daughter, how about that?" said Killer

Koy.

"Killer, what a deal you've got here. No law, no fuzz— and the Colonel's daughter. What you going to do with

her?"

"Keeping her in storage for a while."

"For who?"

"For me. Who else, stupid?"

"Hey, sweetheart, any room up there for me?" shouted one of the men at the bar doors. And he made an obscene joke that caused a roar of laughter from the others, Killer laughing loudest of all.

"You can say that again," he said as they all went into the barroom, laughing.

Caroline sat rigidly.

"I've got to control myself. They treat me like I'm a monkey in the zoo. But I've got to ignore them—I—" Then she was shaking with a fit of sobbing.

A voice came to her from the street below.

"Courage, Caroline."

She looked down through tear-dimmed eyes, then wiped her eyes. A man wearing a hat and coat had just gone into the bar. Was that the one? Something good about that voice, friendly and good. Was there hope, or had she imagined it? She stared down into the street.

In a town of strangers, a man can remain unnoticed for a while. The man in the hat and coat, the Phantom, walked casually through the bar. The men there were drinking, in intimate conversation with the women, or had their heads together, plotting future deals. A few glanced at the passerby with little interest. He went on into the casino where men were crowded around the two dice tables. A few were at blackjack and roulette. The dice players were not quiet bettors. The place was bedlam, curses of happiness or despair as they won or lost. The passer-by, a stranger among strangers, moved on, leaving the casino. It was dark outside now, and he wandered around to the back of the inn. Outside the busy kitchen, an old man, barefooted and in tattered shirt and trousers, with matted hair and beard, was drinking a can of beer and eating a hamburger.

"Know what they give me to eat," he said when he saw the stranger. "Whatever somebody else sends back, when it's overcooked or no good. I get it," he grumbled. He peered sharply at the stranger. "You new here?" The stranger nodded. "You a friend of his—Koy's?" The stranger shook his head. "But you know who he is?" The stranger nodded. "Do something for me? He's never paid me for this place. They promised, but they never did. I keep asking Eagle and he just laughs and gives me a can of beer. Plenty of beer—no money."

"Who are you?" asked the stranger.

"Matthew Crumb. I owned this place. I mean, I still do, if they don't pay me, wouldn't you say?"

"Possession is nine tenths of the law," said the stranger.

"I was mayor of this here town. I was Governor-General. Now they make me sleep in the cellar. Give me burned hamburgers."

"Governor-General?" said the stranger.

The old man grinned slyly.

"I gave myself that title after everybody else left. But I was elected mayor, fair and square, in the old days."

"Did you see that girl in the cage?"

"I did. Looks like a sweet girl. They're a bad lot."

"What do they have in mind for her?"

Matthew Crumb shook his head.

"Do you know who she is?" Again, Crumb shook his head.

"She's the daughter of Colonel Weeks of the Jungle Patrol."

Matthew stared at the stranger. He'd always admired the Patrol. That pretty girl who called him "sir," the Colonel's daughter? Then he shook his head again.

"I don't know. I keep outa their business. They keep outa mine."

"What kind of business do you have?"

"I—" He sat quietly for a moment, staring at the half eaten sandwich. "I usta do a lot, mister. Say," he said suddenly glaring at the stranger. "Who are you, asking all this?"

"Your friend."

The old man peered at him through the darkness, hist face softening.

"My friend? Do I know you?"

"Now you do. Good-bye, Matthew Crumb. I'll see you again."

Matthew Crumb stared after the tall broad-shouldered stranger as he disappeared into the darkness. He took a gulp from the can.

"My friend," he said softly, as beer dribbled down his chin. No one had spoken to him like that for years. Except that girl, the Colonel's daughter.

Coming out of his room, Eagle, the lawyer, saw a tall man walking down the corridor. There were many new men here now. Who was this one?

"Hello there," he called.

The man looked back and nodded. He was big, wearing dark wrap-around sunglasses that completely covered his

eyes.

"Hi," said the stranger, and walked on.

"Just a minute," said Eagle.

But the stranger waved without stopping and went out through a door that led into the alley. Curious, Eagle followed quickly and looked into the alley, expecting to see the man. But he was gone. It was a long alley. He should still have been in sight, even in the dark. Unless he went straight up in the air. Eagle stifled an impulse to look up into the air, snorting. After all, the man didn't have wings. He went back to the casino, wondering.

The casino was going full-blast. Practically the entire population of Killer's Town was there tonight, wagering, drinking, wenching. Pilot was there with his blond and brunette. At the dice table the escaped lifers, Gusty and Greasy, and "mad dog" Pretty with his black pal Moogar, the only native hoodlum in the town. Pretty was gambling as he did everything else—recklessly. Eagle found Koy at the roulette table standing beside the croupier, Sharp, who looked like his name, clean and hard like a razor; Koy never gambled, but enjoyed watching his crooked games take the suckers.

"Killer, you see a big guy with a hat and coat and sunglasses?"

"Yeah."

"Know him?"

"No. Didn't he come on the plane with you?"

"No."

"Maybe he came on the boat with Fats. Hey, Fats."

Fats, a former pro wrestler, waddled over.

"You bring that guy here with the sunglasses?"

"I didn't bring no guy with sunglasses."

"That big guy went through here earlier. See him?"

"I seen him. A new guy with sunglasses. I figure'd he came in with Pilot."

"I came in with Pilot. With Pug and Ossie, the limeys."

Koy looked around the room, then spoke softly.

"The guy must be a cop, maybe a spy, maybe a narc. Send Gutsy and Greasy out to find him. But keep it quiet. I don't want any panic. I don't want the games to stop. We're doing too good. If everybody starts running around, the games stop and we lose."

"What'll they do with this guy? You want him hurt?"

"Enough so he'll talk. Find him, bring him to my office. Keep it quiet."

"Got you, chief."

The order was passed on to Gutsy and Greasy, the two escaped lifers from the Bangalla prison. These two ranked along with Sport and Fats as the roughest and ugliest bruisers in the town.

"Who are we looking for?" said Gusty, swinging a blackjack.

"Big guy with sunglasses."

"Yeah. Seen him earlier in the street. Boss wants him worked over?"

"Not too much. We want to ask him questions. Maybe afterward." The two men went out into the dark street.

"How'll we know him when we see him."

"Sunglasses."

"At night?"

"That's what they said."

"Must be a kook."

'Yeah. You go around that way. I'll go through the alley. Meet in back by the kitchen. If you see anything, yell."