The Code (12 page)

The mansion, erected after the earthquake and fire that had ravaged San Francisco in 1906, sat on top of a hill. It was the city's most famous bordello and the woman who ran it was a legend in her own time. A playwright had once wanted to make her life story the basis for a Broadway musical. Liz Burdick had reportedly told him thanks, but she didn't need the publicity. A maid answered the door and showed me into an old-fashioned parlor where lush red draperies hung. The furniture was antique, the carpet an inch thick. I doubted that the Governor's mansion in Sacramento was furnished as well.

Liz Burdick came into the room and the maid closed the double doors behind her and left us alone. I tried not to look dazzled. I had expected an older woman. Liz Burdick was only in her thirties.

Her long gown swept the rug as she moved toward me and gave me a cool, slender hand and looked me directly in the eye. "You're a little early, but I'll call some of the girls down. I'm sure I have some you'll like," she said.

"It was arranged that I'd see Penny."

"Yes, we talked about her when you called, but she won't be in tonight. I hoped you'd try someone else," she smiled.

Her eyes were a cool jade green and appraising despite the smile she wore. I wondered if I should have Bed to her. I had said I was a businessman in town for a convention and a friend had suggested I pay a visit to her house.

"Penny is one of our most popular girls, but we have others just as attractive. I could make a choice for you if you trust my judgment," she suggested.

"I'm sure your taste is excellent, Miss Burdick."

"Mrs. Burdick," she corrected me. "I'm a widow." Her long ash blonde hair shimmered in the light and she moved with a sensual grace as she crossed to a chair and sat down.

"But I'm interested only in Penny." I gave her what I thought was a guileless smile. "My friend did quite a selling job on her."

"In that case, you'll just have to wait until the next time you're in San Francisco."

"What's wrong with tomorrow night?"

"Penny won't be here, I'm afraid."

"Mrs. Burdick, do the visiting fireman a favor. Tell me how I can get in touch with Penny. If she doesn't live here, give me her address. I could call her up and maybe arrange something."

"We have rules here, you know. We don't give out information like that about our girls. They have a right to a life of their own when they aren't working."

She was growing cooler as I grew insistent.

Stabbed by a sudden suspicion, I said, "Are you trying to prevent my seeing her?"

She smiled and didn't answer, but her manner was response enough.

The maid came into the room after knocking discreetly. She brought a tray with a pair of drinks on it. I sat with a glass in my hand and wondered why the madam was giving me the VIP treatment when she apparently had no intention of allowing me to see Penny.

"When I called, I asked to speak to Penny, but I got you. Why was that, Mrs. Burdick?"

"Because she wasn't here, obviously. At the time, I believed she'd be back later in the day. I was mistaken."

I rattled the ice in my glass, but I didn't take a drink. "Where is she?"

"I don't think that's any of your business." She didn't raise her voice, but her eyes were steely now.

(Scowling, I put my glass down. I didn't trust her. "Our girls take vacations, you know. They visit relatives. They get sick. They're like anyone else, despite what you may hear."

I hated to pull a gun in the genteel surroundings of the classiest cathouse in San Francisco, but the measure seemed to be necessary.

Liz Burdick raised her eyebrows as the Luger slid into my hand. However, she looked something less than surprised.

"Now we're getting down to the real business at hand, aren't we, Mr. Harper?"

"The gun is to let you know that I'm serious. Very serious."

"Penny has left us for a while. I can't be any more definite than that."

Dealing with her was like dealing with a woman shielded by a wall of ice.

She set her glass down. Every move she made was like poetry. "Are you interested in telling me why you carry a gun, Mr. Harper?"

"People keep trying to put bullets in me."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But we live in violent times. Now that you're pointing the weapon at me, what am I supposed to do?"

"I hoped it might shake you up a little. I underestimated you." I stood up and holstered the Luger. "I'm looking for a man who carried Penny's name in his address book. A big man called Moose, and sometimes Edward Jones. He's a tough character."

"No such person has ever been in this house."

"I want to ask Penny about him."

"I'm sorry. It can't be arranged. You'd better leave, Mr. Harper."

I didn't move. I stood looking at her and said, "Name your price."

"I don't sell information."

I grinned at her. "I'm not talking about information."

This time she was surprised. "You mean, for one of my girls?"

"No, Mrs. Burdick. Not one of your girls."

She understood. And damn her, she smiled and met my eyes. "That would be very expensive. The best is always expensive."

"I want the best," I said.

I stretched out on the bed and watched Liz disrobe. Her limbs glinted golden-tan in the light from an antique lamp. Her waist was slender and her shoulders small, but her breasts were large and full. They swayed as she moved toward me. Like her face, her body was well kept, in superb condition.

"What do you think this will get you? Other than the obvious, I mean."

"You interest me. I want to find out what makes you tick," I said.

She laughed huskily. "You don't find out about a whore by taking her to bed. A whore is an actress and the bed's a stage." She leaned over me and put her mouth on mine. Her tongue crawled between my lips and her hand slid down my thigh. "But I am not a whore. Do you understand that?"

"Not really," I said.

"I do not service my clients. My girls do that. I am not for sale."

"Then why did you accept my offer?"

"It wasn't an offer," she said. "It was a challenge."

I pulled her down on the bed. My hands slid over her body. I felt her fingers working on the buttons of my shirt. I helped her by sliding it off. When she saw my bandaged wound, she asked no questions. Her composed features grew flushed as I made love to her. Her tongue darted out for mine, the hands stroking my back suddenly tensed, and then she surged under me with a wild cry...

"Well, how was it?" she asked.

"Like you said, you're the best."

"So are you, Ned Harper. Aside from that, what are you? A gunman, a cop, what?"

"Closer to a cop."

She touched the bandage. "This is a bullet wound, isn't it?"

"Compliments of a friend of the man you claim you never saw."

"Do you think I'm going to help you just because you went to bed with me?"

"I'll find him with or without your help. He has killed at least five people. One happened to be a close friend of mine. One was a beautiful woman. He broke her neck."

"Stop it," she said in a harsh voice. "Moose came here twice. He wasn't my typical customer. He was crude and violent and I could tell he was a criminal. But he had known Penny before she started here. She said he was a friend. I told her he was no good. I was glad when he didn't show up again after the second visit."

I kissed the back of her neck. "Where is she, Liz?"

"I wasn't protecting Moose. I was helping Penny. She said she didn't want to see you, that it would endanger her life."

"How did she know that?"

"She didn't elaborate. She left in a hurry, as soon as I promised I wouldn't give her away." Liz twisted in my arms. "Maybe Moose has been in contact with her. Is that what you re thinking?"

"It's possible."

"I know where she's staying. I don't know if I want to tell you. The information could get you killed if Moose is with her."

"Tell me," I said.

She sighed "The place is an old summer cottage outside of town. I'll write down the directions for you." She rose and walked to an antique writing table. She moved beautifully. She had a small, hard behind, like a young girls.

I watched as she stood at the table and wrote on a dainty scrap of blue stationery. Her full breasts swayed when she moved. The light played on her sleek shoulders. She was a genuine blonde, golden between the thighs.

Soundlessly I left the bed. I reached around her and caressed her breasts. I cupped them in my palms and toyed with her nipples, feeling them grow hard again.

Tilting her head, she stood motionless, enjoying my caresses. I could smell her hair, the perfume on her body.

"I'm glad I came to San Francisco," I said.

Slowly she leaned against me, then turned and let her head fall on my shoulder. "How long do you have, Ned?"

"Long enough," I said.

Her hand gently touched my face. I picked her up and carried her back to the bed...

The house where Penny was staying sat high on a bluff outside San Francisco. Liz's directions had been easy to follow. I parked fifty yards away from the house at the side of a deserted road, got out of my car, and quietly closed the door. The night air was cool and damp, the ground wet from a summer rain. On each side of me, the woods had grown thick with underbrush that crowded the edges of the road.

I could see a car near the house's front door. Approaching cautiously, I passed the car and crouched under one of the lighted windows of the house. Inside, two people were talking. I heard their voices although I couldn't make out their words. One of the voices belonged to a man.

My Luger in my hand, I turned the corner of the house. I suddenly felt tight inside. My search might be nearing an end.

I walked on the balls of my feet, moving quickly through the shadows. As I arrived at the front door, I heard the voices growing louder. The people were coming out. Turning, I looked for a hiding place. The man's footsteps, loud and hard, were at the door. I darted to the parked car and ducked behind it.

Light flooded out into the night, painting a yellow stripe along the ground. The man's figure breached the doorway. It was not Moose. He was not nearly the size of the gravel-voiced giant. I felt the sharp cut of disappointment.

"Lock the door," the man said to his companion, a girl I only glimpsed. He moved down the steps. His stocky shape looked familiar. So did the choppy steps he took as he approached the car.

He didn't even glance in the direction of my Ford parked down the road. He opened the door of his own car and got in. The house's front door had closed and the girl had disappeared.

The man turned the ignition key. I heard the motor stir and felt the car start a sluggish movement as the man shoved the gear into reverse. I grabbed the handle of the door on my side and jumped inside the car as the man backed away from the house.

He slammed on the brakes. "What the hell?"

"I've got a gun, so take it easy. Turn on the overhead light. I want to see what you look like."

He had dark hair and a hard face. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and I could see the tattoo of an anchor on his forearm.

"Jake Hoyle's the name, isn't it?"

"You should be dead," he said. "Sid put a bullet in you."

"I remember the occasion." I swiped him in the face with the Luger. Just hard enough to make sure I had his complete attention. "Where is Moose?"

"You don't want to see him. You're out of your league. Moose eats guys like you for dessert."

"I thought he preferred to beat up women."

"Listen, the wisest step you could take would be to get out of this car right now and go somewhere a thousand miles from here."

That night in Idaho was burning in my mind, vivid again, filling me with fury. I was remembering how Sid had calmly put a bullet in me while I lay bound and helpless. I was remembering Sheila Brant and David Kirby.

I jammed the Luger against his throat so hard that he gasped. "I asked you a question. If you don't answer it, I'll blow your brains all over the seat of this car."

Hoarsely he said, "I'm going to meet Moose now."

"Good. I'll go along with you."

"It's your funeral." At least he hoped it was.

He cast occasional sidelong glances in my direction as he drove. "Moose knows about you. He knows you're some kind of a federal agent."

"How did he find that out?"

"He has connections. He has them right up to the top of the Organization. You're going to get yours, mister. You're living on borrowed time."

I put a cigarette in my mouth. "You've got a lighter of mine. You took it off me in Bonham."

"You don't forget anything, do you? I gave the lighter to the girl."

I punched in the one in the dash. "Drive faster. I'm eager to see Moose again."

With an oath, Hoyle shoved the accelerator harder. "Rondo was right. You're crazy."

"Rondo told me he didn't know where you were."

"He didn't, but we have a mutual friend. He made a call. I figured you'd be coming to San Francisco to see Penny. You found that address book Moose lost. You're looking up every broad in it."

"Only I don't have to look any longer, do I?"

"No. This is the end of the road for you, mister."

Without changing his tone of voice, Hoyle wrenched the steering wheel. When the car swerved, I was thrown into the dash.

I didn't see him put his hand inside his coat, but I saw the flash of the gunshot and heard its sound as he pulled the trigger. He was fast. He was very fast. But the bullet didn't hit its target. I had already dropped to the floor of the car. I didn't have time to think things out. I shot back. The Luger exploded loudly inside the closed car. Hoyle made a gurgling sound in his throat and slumped over the steering wheel.