Mickey Spillane - [Mike Hammer 13] (23 page)

I got out of the car and made Velda walk behind me. It wasn’t the best way to approach a place you weren’t sure of, but I was beginning to think it was the memory of what this area was, the business that held it together, that gave me that spooky feeling. There was still something left in the old wood and fieldstone that seemed to radiate trouble.

The door was latched, the fire was out and the place was empty. There were no dirty dishes, the garbage can was empty and everything seemed to be right in place. There was just an uncanny feeling of
aloneness
that shouldn’t be there.

Velda had taken it all in too. Finally she said, “He’d have to go to town sooner or later, Mike. He wouldn’t leave the stove going then and he would have cleaned up beforehand.”

“That’s a long walk, kid.”

“He’d have some way to get to town. He wasn’t that much of a recluse.”

I nodded in agreement. “Guess you’re right, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Come on, let’s go see the cave.”

“What are we looking for?”

“If I told you, you’d think I was crazy.”

Slateman had left his heavy-duty flashlight right on the table. I took that and gave Velda the one out of the car. She hefted it, thinking it more of a club than a light. When she was satisfied, we moved out across the field.

Finding the entrance was easy this time. Velda balked a moment until I said, “No bats, remember?”

She took a deep breath and walked in behind me. We kept the lights moving, covering the area as best we could, but nothing had changed since the last time. We followed the wall, stepping over the junk on the floor, kicking away things that made small tinkling sounds and avoiding the broken remnants of whiskey bottles that had been sampled, drained and dropped by workers getting a few perks in for their labors.

Three-quarters of the way around we came to the place I had wanted to see. It was the rubble from the roof that had come crashing down many years ago and had been pushed against the back wall out of the way. I ran the light up at the ceiling and saw some scars in the stone, then lowered it to cover the angled pile to my left. Dirt and dust were thick on everything. I crouched down, picked up a handful and let it sift through my fingers.

Odd, I thought. Dust wasn’t dusty after all. It had an abrasiveness like fine sand.

Velda’s light hit me right in the eyes.

When she realized the light was blinding me she pulled it down to the ground and said, “What are you looking for, Mike?”

I was just about to answer her when another voice said, “Yeah, Mike, tell her what you were looking for.”

There was the faintest metallic click and I knew the hammer had gone back on a gun.

Velda sucked her breath in with an audible gasp.

The voice in the darkness behind us wasn’t coming from Slateman. It was young and hard, the kind that had death right behind it and wouldn’t wait very long at all to spring into a killing frenzy.

I said, “It’s about time you got here, Ugo.”

My tone slowed him down an instant. Ugo Ponti wasn’t a fast thinker.

“Why do you suppose that, Hammer?”

“You had the numbers, didn’t you?”

“Sure I did. I’m not so damn dumb. That kid put me right on them.”

There was one thing I had to know. “Did you kill the slob, Ugo?”

“I would have, just like I shot his old man, but a hundred bucks bought his story and I didn’t have any cops chasing me.”

“They’ll be chasing you now, Ugo.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because your father is dead, that’s why. You knocked off your own father, didn’t you?”

There was no remorse in his voice. He seemed to be almost proud of what he had done. “My old man lost his guts. All those Mustache Petes tried to keep everything the way it was and it doesn’t go that way. Those bastards grabbed everything that should have come to us and got what they deserved.”

My legs were starting to cramp up, but I had to keep him talking. “And now you’re in a big empty cave, Ugo.”

“Yeah, but I got you and your woman here and you know where the stuff is.”

“You don’t see it, do you? What makes you think I can get to it?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Hammer. Your buddy Dooley told you. No big deal. He just told you and you’re here to do it.”

Velda’s light was still pointing at the floor. The both of us were in the glow of our own flashlights and Ugo was in total darkness. Any movement either one of us made would lay us out. There was no telling by that click I had heard whether he had a small arm or a shotgun, but if it were a shotgun, he could get us both with the first blast.

Without asking, I uncrouched from the floor very slowly, leaving my flashlight on the ground, my mind racing, trying to line up the best odds.

Ugo said, “That’s right, Mike. Nice and easy. Now, once more, what were you looking for?”

I said, “I’m not looking, Ugo. I already found it.”

And as I kicked off the light on the ground she flipped her switch and we both hit the dirt as Ugo pumped four shotgun rounds in our direction before he knew he hadn’t hit either of us. But by then I had the .45 out, the safety off and the hammer back and I aimed right where I had last seen the muzzle flash and let the deafening roar of the old Colt automatic thunder in the cave. The single bullet smashed into something that clattered, but didn’t kill, and when I flashed the light on it caught Ugo Ponti, the new don, heir to Lorenzo’s throne and domain, scrabbling in the dirt for the mangled shotgun my slug had smashed into useless junk, and when he saw what it was like, let out a wild scream and raised the shotgun like a shield. I triggered the .45 again and the slug smashed into the metal breech of his weapon that crashed into his chin and he went down with his eyes bugging out and his breathing hoarse with pain.

I walked up to the slob and let the light wash over him. Blood ran down from the cut on his chin and his body made a few involuntary jerks before realization was in his eyes. He didn’t know what was coming next, but the hatred that oozed from his pupils was filled with a violent venom that nothing could diminish. They finally dropped to the gun in my hand, and when I started to raise it his lips drew back with the fierceness of his crazy desire to kill me one way or another but knowing that once I had him looking down that big bore of the .45 it was going to be the last thing he would see.

Then the big lights came on. One after another as nine of them came pouring into the cave. There were four uniformed police officers and another four in plainclothes. The ninth was covered with grime and seemed mad enough to spit. I said, “Hello, Homer.”

He didn’t answer me. He said, “What the hell have you done?”

“Caught you a killer, friend.” I nudged Ugo with my toe. “He’s not dead. He’s all smashed up inside and if you don’t get him to a hospital he sure as heck will kick it. But he’ll remember all this, and he’ll talk. He’s the one who wasted Dooley and killed his own father.”

“You can prove this, I suppose,” Homer said sarcastically.

Velda handed him her Sony recorder. “Here’s a tape of him admitting it, Homer. Someplace you’ll locate his .357, then you’ll have him on all charges.”

Homer took the Sony and touched the button and listened to it, then rolled the tape back and let it play. He caught all the action and I grinned like an ape because Velda had caught on just the way I had hoped. She told him, “He couldn’t see me move my finger. I just flipped the button to RECORD and got the whole thing. I figured that if he killed us there would be something left to show for our efforts.”

“You’re up the creek on me, though,” I told Homer.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. I’m licensed in New York state, I’ve disabled a killer without killing him, so now what?”

“Where’s the money, Hammer?”

“You don’t see any, do you?”

“If it weren’t here, none of us would be here,” he said.

“Well, why don’t you call in all your specialists and search this place. If you find anything, it’s all yours or Uncle Sam’s. And while you’re at it, look for the nice little old man who used to live here. I have an idea that Ugo got here in time to erase him, too. There’s plenty of places to hide a body on this mountain, but a few dogs or some locals ought to be enough to find out where Ugo put Slateman.”

It was happening again. The tension had hit a new high and my body felt all the pressure in one point. It was as if an animal was gnawing a hole into me, a subtle pain like a great spiderweb radiating out from the wound. I walked over to Velda, and when I put my hand on her she knew it wasn’t a gesture, but me holding on to keep from doubling over. I still had the .45 in my hand and she took it away and slipped it into the holster under my coat.

Homer kept watching me, not knowing just what to say. So I said it. “You want me for anything, Mr. Watson?”

“Where are you going to be?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay in touch,” I said. I kept my arm around Velda and she put hers around me, not touching the hole in my side. The uniformed cops and the ones in suits didn’t know what to make of the whole matter, but since Homer didn’t try to stop us, they let us pass, keeping our path lit as we did.

Velda said, “Are you all right?”

I shook my head.

When we reached the car she opened the passenger door and let me slide in, then she got behind the wheel. Her eyes asked where we were going and I said, “Get the . . . blood test results. Then go . . . to the courthouse. We can just make it . . . if you kick it hard.”

She made one other stop. I tried to talk her out of it, but she pulled into a Texaco station, grabbed a packet of crackers and handed them to me in the car. I got my pills down, but not quite in time. The pain grew with a terrible intensity before it finally slackened off just before we reached Albany.

The clinic was right on the way and we picked up the blood test results. Neither one of us had any dirty diseases. We made it to the clerk at the courthouse too, just minutes before she was about to close her doors. We got the license to marry, paid the fee and went back outside.

It had been a long time since I had seen her so happy.

A sour taste had come up in my throat and my breathing became strained. Velda kept looking at me from the corner of her eye, then put her palm on my forehead and said, “Damn, you have a fever.”

I closed my eyes and knew when the car stopped. It rolled again and my door opened and I knew it was Velda who was half carrying me into an air-conditioned room, laying me on a cushioning mattress. I felt her hands on me without knowing what they were doing because my mind was off in a crazy dream world that was nice because there was no pain in it.

There were voices. There were always voices. There were familiar voices and some that were harsh and almost threatening. But Velda’s voice was always there and carried the real weight of authority and after a while all the other voices went away.

I woke up hungry, trying to remember something, but pain as an experience wasn’t easy to bring back to mind. There was a soberness in my side and taking too deep a breath made it hurt again. When I moved my arm Velda was there like a shot, her hand finding mine. Then Ralph Morgan moved her hand away and felt for my pulse. When a half minute passed he nodded in a satisfied manner. I was still alive.

He asked me, “How do you feel, hero?”

“Like crap. But hungry. What day is this?”

“Friday.”

“What date?”

He told me. No wonder I was hungry. I had been out of it four days. “What have you been feeding me?” I wanted to know.

“You wouldn’t like to know, but you got it through tubes. Now stay quiet and we’ll get something solid into you. Not much or you’d vomit it out.”

“Vomit,” I said disgustedly. “What a word to use before I eat.”

Morgan let out a grunt and checked my side. The bandage appeared to be fresh and I was glad he didn’t have to mess with it right then. Velda had gone to make me a breakfast as soon as I had come around. Now I looked at the tray she set down beside me. There was a single, soft-boiled egg in a cup next to a bowl of warm milk where a piece of buttered toast, well sugared, floated with simple elegance.

There are times when complaints don’t do a bit of good. I let Velda spoon most of the egg into me, had half the toast and a few spoonfuls of warm milk, then I turned my head away. It was all I could eat. I let my eyes close and went back to sleep. I didn’t need any pills now. The good doctor had been slipping the painkillers into my arm.

I didn’t count the times I awoke and was fed. Each time I felt a little stronger and a little hungrier. There were times when voices came through the fog very clearly, but my mind refused to recognize them. I knew when the bandages came off and I was washed and dressed, and I felt Velda’s hands shaving me. She had just finished cutting my hair when my eyes came open all the way and I knew I had gotten out of the black alley again.

Ralph Morgan was waiting with a big smile. Out of habit he felt my pulse again and asked, “How do you feel?”

“Not up to running any foot races,” I told him. “What happened to me?”

“Stress, sheer stress. You keep playing the game like you’re twenty-five, Mike, but those days are long gone. You had one hell of a wound and you wouldn’t listen to me. You didn’t have to take a direct injury to that same spot to go down like a log. Heavy stress could do the same thing.” He shook his head at me like I was a little kid. “And right in the middle of all this trouble you try to get married.”