The Golden Circle (13 page)

A .32 revolver snapped into view. "Well settle him right now this minute."

Before Beth could turn the gun on the Phantom, Mara threw both arms around her. The blonde slapped the older woman's hand and the gun fell to the floor.

The Phantom dived, scooping up the fallen weapon. "All right, ladies," he said. "Move over into the far corner, please."

"Walker, what are you doing?" asked Mara. "I'm trying to save your life."

"So am I," he replied.

"You've done brilliantly, Mara," said Beth, slowly crossing the cell.

"You, too, Mara," ordered the Phantom. "Get over there."

"Walker, don't do "

"Drop it, Mr. Walker." Two hefty golden arrow girls stood in the doorway. Each had a pistol aimed at the Phantom. "Drop your gun if you please."

He let it drop.

"You're no match for us," Beth brushed by him, stooped, picked up her weapon and put it away under her jacket. "Very well, Mara. Well let the ruling six vote on him. I think I can predict how the vote will run."

Mara left the cell without saying anything further.

Beth was behind the upright chair in the library, her hands gripping its back. "We can't afford to devote all night to discussing this man Walker. I shouldn't have to point out we have a new operatio scheduled for Thursday night."

"We're talking about a man's life," reminded Mara.

"A traitor's life, a police spy's life," said Beth. "He's not the first traitor we've dealt with. I say we treat him exactly as the others were treated. We drop him in the " "No," said the dark Mimi. "You can't dump Walker into the underground river. I've heard about what you did to those others, before I joined the golden arrow. No, you can't do that to him."

"We've no place for squeamishness in the organization," said the straight-standing Beth. "No place for sentimentality."

"Well, I guess I am a little sentimental about the man who saved my life only last night," said Mimi. "You can't "

Mara cut in, "I'm not sentimental about Walker, Beth."

"Oh, aren't you?" 5 j

"No, not after what he's done. Not after this mom-

Ing"

The other three girls on the board of directors hadn't heard about the struggle for the pistol this morning. They murmured among themselves, puzzled.

"Walker attempted to shoot us both in his cell this morning," Beth explained to them. "That's what dear Mara is alluding to."

"Oh, it wasn't anything like that at all," said Mara. "You were the one who pulled a gun, Beth. Something, I might add, you were in no way authorized to do."

"I don't think," Mimi put forth, "we should kill him. Let's stick to that point."

"Very well," sneered Beth, "There's one vote for him."

Mara said, "Beth, I won't allow him to be executed."

"And what is the alternative?"

"I don't exactly know...."

"Perhaps, dear Mara, you'd like him to live on with us forever and a day," suggested Beth. "Or we might I tu n him into some sort of house pet."

"We don't have to make an immediate decision," said Mimi.

"Exactly," agreed Mara. "There's no harm in his being kept a prisoner awhile longer."

"The man's a threat." Beth produced one of her little cigars. She lit it with an angry poke of a wood match. "Every minute he's here, we're in danger."

'"That's ridiculous. I can't agree with you at all," said Mara.

"Shouldn't we," said Mimi, "table it? So we can get on to planning our next job."

Smoke swirled from Beth's nostrils. "For now, then, I'll allow him to live," she said. "Mara, tell us about the new operation."

Giving a small sigh, the blonde said, "This job will be in Manhattan. We won't need more than four girls. As you know, we've had one of our girls working as a private secretary to Rowland Easton, the celebrated novelist, for several months. Mrs. Easton, not coinci- dently, has one of New York City's larger collections of diamonds. This weekend, the Eastons leave for a year's stay in Europe, and the gems will be deposited in a bank vault. Two nights from tonight, however, Mr. Easton will be home alone, dictating the final chapter of his latest book to our girl."

"Sounds simple enough," said Mimi. "She can incapacitate Easton, then let us in."

"Yes, said Mara. "The diamonds are kept in a safe which opens with a key. It's in the master bedroom of the Eastons' townhouse. He carries a set of keys with him."

"It'll be nice to have an easy one for a change."

Beth frowned. "I don't know," she said. "I have a feeling we're not going to have good luck as long as that man is alive."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The handle on his cell door began to turn quietly.

The Phantom sat up, instantly awake in the dark room.

His jungle trained senses told him it was around 2
A.M
. Not the usual hour for a visit Perhaps Beth was returning to carry out her earlier threat.

Silently the Phantom rose to his feet He moved along one wall, aiming for the door.

The door swung slowly outward. The corridor outside was dark, too. Only faint pale blue moonlight illuminated the figure framed in the doorway.

A flashlight clicked on. "Are you asleep?"

"No, Mimi."

The girl started when she heard his voice only a few feet from her. She automatically swung the light toward him. "Well, hello," she said. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I was, until you touched the door."

"You must be a light sleeper." Mimi entered, pulling the door until it was only an inch open. "Me, I can sleep through almost anything. Once when I was. . . ."

"Why the visit?"

"Well, I came to tell you not to worry. I'm sure

nobody's been here since Mara and Beth had their little confrontation over you."

"Nobody except the silent girl who brought my dinner," said the Phantom.

"I think Mara's going to avoid you for a while."

"Until after they shoot me?"

"Her pride's injured," said Mimi. "But what I came to tell you, Walker, is they're not going to kill you. Well, at least not for a while anyway."

The glow of the flashlight made his shadow loom large on the cell wall behind them. "Not for a while, that's some consolation."

"In the board of directors' meeting Mara and I spoke up for you. You know Beth's feelings. We've persuaded her to hold off."

"When Beth was here," he said, "she made a threat about killing me in a painful way, something much worse than shooting. What does she have in mind?"

Mimi inhaled sharply. "Well, Walker, she probably wants to throw you in the underground river. It runs right under one of the other basement rooms."

"That would simply carry me out into the Sound."

"Nope, not the way they do it. They sew you up in a sack, tie you hand and foot, and weigh you down with heavy stones."

The Phantom asked, "They've done this before?"

"Not since I've been here."

"But they've done it?"

"Yes," admitted the dark girl. "To a girl they suspected was planning to sell them out to the authorities. Really, Walker, that was months before I joined the golden circle. I've only heard gossip about it. I had nothing to do with any killing."

Putting his hand on hers, the Phantom said, "You don't sound very enthusiastic about your association with the gang, Mimi."

The girl tried to laugh. "Well, listen, how many

people have a job they really like? All those sad-eyed secretaries who flock to the commuting trains each and every morning. Would you want me to be one of those?"

"There are a good many alternatives. What do you

want?"

"I'm not quite certain anymore," said Mimi. "The past few weeks I've been feeling ... I don't know. Restless. More than that, disgusted I guess is the word. After they killed that old man on the train . . . Mr. Pieters, wasn't that his name? After Pieters I felt very down. I really had nothing to do with it and yet I felt responsible. Yes, and the cops would see it the same way, too, probably."

"Not necessarily."

"Maybe." Her hands were shaking very slightly, causing the flashlight to flicker. "Then you showed up in the picture. Which made things worse for me. I had a feeling you weren't a crook, Walker, right from the lirst I'm still not exactly sure about you. You seem sort of different. . . special." She sighed, lowering her head. "Well, listen, I didn't come here in the middle of the night to have you play therapist or kindly uncle."

"Why did you come?"

"I told you. To give you the good news," she replied. "You'll be kept a prisoner here. Well, that may not be terrific news, but it's a heck of a lot better than a death sentence."

The Phantom was silent for a moment. "I thought perhaps," he said at last, "you'd come to help me get out of here, Mimi."

The girl drew away from him, taking her hand out of his. "No, I didn't, Walker."

"You never even thought of it?"

In a soft faraway voice she said, "I may have thought of helping you escape, I'm not going to do it, though. I like you, Walker, but I don't want to end up in a gunny sack full of rocks."

"That won't happen," the Phantom promised her. "Get me a gun. I'll get both of us out of here safely."

"Both of us?"

"You're ready to quit, aren't you? Isn't that what all this has been leading up to?"

"I don't know, I really don't know," said Mimi. "Anyway, suppose I did try to quit. The cops would only come and find me."

"You could cooperate with them, tell what you know."

"Great, and get three to five years instead of five to ten. No thanks."

"There are many ways to disappear," he said. "The police could come looking and never find you."

"I've got to go now," said Mimi. "We have a new job coming up day after tomorrow. I should rest up for it."

"You're going to be directly involved?"

"Well, as of now I'm supposed to be," she said. "Though I've been thinking about coming down with the flu sometime tomorrow and sitting this one out"

"A good idea."

The girl touched the edge of the cell door, pushed it further open. "I'll think about everything you said. Bye." She was out into the corridor quickly.

The door closed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lt. Colma felt at lie place where the top button of his raincoat should be. "Damn button's; gone again," he said. "My wife hates to sew anything." They were walking into the wind, the gray afternoon rain slapping at them.

"You ought to get these cheap plastic jobs," said the big VerPoorten, indicating his transparent raincoat. "When something goes wrong, you junk it and get yourself a new one."

"Huh," said the stocky policeman. "There's the hotel."

They turned onto West 23rd Street. "Yeah, the Hotel Hobart," said VerPoorten. "This is where our informant says Sweeney Todd is staying."

"Okay, let's go in and find out."

The lobby of the Hobart was small. There was a worn brown rug on the floor, with chairs holding down each of its four corners. None of the chairs matched. A rubber plant was dying in a tan urn next to a 1956- model television set. On the screen a man in a jumpsuit was promising his viewers new vigor if they'd only do what he told them. An old man wearing a black overcoat over a pair of flannel pajamas sat in one of the chairs, squinting at the TV screen. A youth in a poncho and motorcycle pants and boots was