Delta Factor, The

by Mickey Spillane

  I nodded.

  “He was a pig,” she said. “I don’t like pigs.”

  “How?”

  “If he had a choice to be nice or nasty, he’d be rotten.”

  “This from personal experience?”

  “He couldn’t have enough money to buy me, Morgan. He tried, though. I told him once that I had a couple of friends ... real friends ... I could talk to them and he’d never be able to say anything again. He knew I wasn’t fooling.”

  “What did he pull?”

  Her eyes widened blandly and she said, “Morgan, unless you’ve seen real filth, you can’t imagine what kind of a person Gorman Yard could be. Oh, it wasn’t only him. He had to associate with his own kind. They can only stand each other anyway ... no one else will have anything to do with them. I saw him with people I knew about. Some I didn’t know, but they had to be like him. I was surprised Old Gussie even let him in her place, but lately, she isn’t as particular as she was. If she ever knew about that creep he used to shack up with she’d flip.”

  “What creep?”

  “Ever see a lizard stare at you, Morgan?”

  I shrugged.

  “Garfish do it too. They rise to the top like a small submarine and stare at you with those damn horrible eyes and if you haven’t got a gun to shoot them with they just go back down again and it’s like you had been eaten alive with those eyes.” She took a quick swallow of her drink and balanced the glass on the palm of one hand. “When I was a kid my uncle used to take me fishing. I remember the gars.”

  “Who was this guy, Bernice?”

  “Beats me. He didn’t poke his head out very often. He was there for a while, then he was gone. I saw him across the airshaft from Lily Temple’s room a couple of times. She was afraid of him too.” She paused, thinking, then said, “He gave you that itchy feeling that he was hooked on H. You know, that trapped-rat sort of thing? Only he wasn’t. I’ve seen too many of them. He didn’t take any trips into never-never land. It looked like he was already there.”

  “Maybe they were in business together,” I suggested.

  “Not Gorman Yard. He was a loner. I’d say this guy was on the run and Yard was taking advantage of it.”

  “Yard was on the run too.”

  “Not like this one was. What gets me is that his kind doesn’t get scared easily. I wouldn’t want to mess with him. If he and Yard were working a deal, I didn’t get it. Anyway, he wasn’t there long. Maybe a couple of weeks at the most.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know what Yard bought at the deli. I know when he quit bringing in all those goodies. He was buying for two; then all of a sudden he quit and it was pretty soon after that the cops picked him up and slapped him in the cooler.”

  “You mentioned some others,” I said.

  “More creeps,” she told me. “That guy was plain looking for trouble. You know, he starts hanging out with some of the shooters Whitey Tass keeps around, angling for an introduction to the big man himself, and he’s damn lucky he got picked up by the fuzz before Whitey got sore. He runs too big an operation in the city to be bugged by a pig like Yard. One day Lou Steubal tried to get an inside track with Whitey, levering him on account of what Whitey did to his sister, and they found Lou in the drink. It looked like Lou got gassed up and fell in, but don’t try to tell me that. Whitey had him tapped out.”

  “Nice people.”

  “And now you’re asking around. Could I ask why?”

  “Sure, you could.”

  “But you’re not about to tell me.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “Like the man said, Bernice, a little bit of information can be a bad thing.”

  She gave me that twisted little grin again and nodded. “You’re right, of course. I don’t really want to know except out of curiosity. But can I guess?”

  “If you like.”

  Bernice studied her glass, drained half of it and set it on the floor beside the chair. “You lived in the house and Gorman Yard lived there too. He was there first, so I’ll suppose that he left something there, came back to get it and spotted you. Maybe he turned on the heat and got you nailed.

  I shook my head and finished my drink.

  “Then I’ll suppose this,” she said. “When those Treasury Agents shook Gussie’s place down and found that sailor with a load of H on him, then uncovered your little nest egg in a general search and grabbed you, it was because Yard knew you were there, but blew the whistle on the sailor, hoping to get you running so he could pick up the loot you had hidden.”

  “That’s a good suppose if it were true,” I told her.

  Her impish eyes twinkled at me. “I was born in that house, Morgan. That place you hid all that cash wasn’t new to me. I used to keep things there when I was a kid. My old man built it to hide the booze from my mother. How did you find it?”

  I shrugged and said nothing.

  “Well, there weren’t too many places to hide anything in that fleabag. You didn’t have much choice. What gets me is where the rest of it is. Gussie ripped up everything but the foundations looking for it after they got you.”

  “Maybe you have an idea.”

  “Sure,” she grinned. “You’re not one to keep all your eggs in one basket. The rest of it never was there or I would have found it. I went back and poked around in all my old hiding places too.”

  “I hate to have been such a disappointment, kid.”

  “You weren’t. It was fun.” She paused, then said, “It’s been an odd conversation, Morgan. Did I say anything important?”

  “Possibly,” I told her. “How badly did you want that money?”

  “Really, not at all. I do all right.”

  “Care to earn a few bucks?”

  “How?”

  “Think you can find out why Gorman Yard wanted to get close to Whitey Tass?”

  “That’s a maybe, Morgan. Those people don’t like to talk much, even to one of their own. I can give it a try, though. I’ve had ... dealings with one the last six months.” Then her eyes met mine and locked seriously. “But not for money, Morgan. I’ll do it, but not for money.”

  “I don’t like being obligated, baby.”

  “Can you like me a little? I’ve never really been liked before.”

  “You’ve been loved at one time, sugar.”

  “Not love, Morgan. I just want to be liked. I want one real friend who isn’t afraid.”

  “I’m scared all the time,” I said.

  “But not afraid. That’s why you’re on the outside no matter what they tried to do to you.”

  I felt the smile tug at my mouth and threw her a wink. “I like you, kitten. That I really do.”

  “Then you know I’m going to keep you here tonight. I don’t want any of the things I ... have to do with other people. I just want to be held and liked and to talk about little things, listen to some music, hold hands and maybe fall asleep on your shoulder until the sun comes up. Do you know what I mean, Morgan.”

  I got up and walked over to her and ran my fingers through the silken clouds of her hair and looked into the funny, friendly eyes and nodded.

  “I know,” I said.

  4

  I GOT OUT of the cab in front of my hotel and stared at the nearly empty streets of the city that hadn’t struggled back to life yet. A wet mist slicked the streets, and the tops of the buildings were smothered by low-hanging clouds.

  When I reached my room I slept until two in the afternoon, then got on the phone to Miami and laid out my program with Art Keefer to get me and Kim out of the country. He thought I was nuts picking the place I wanted to go when a few better ones were another day’s flight further south where a guy could hide out all his life if he wasn’t an Eichmann and had the money to grease a few palms. But I insisted and he went along with me like he always did and told me when and where we’d meet. The second call got me Little Joe Malone, who promised to deliver a few necessary it
ems to a locker in the bus station with the key left downstairs at the desk for me.

  At four thirty I picked up the key, paid my bill and hopped a cab uptown, picked up the .45 and box of ammo, a set of picks and two small files that had the biting edge of an acetelene torch. A half hour later I was knocking on Kim Stacy’s door and heard her cross the room to open it for me.

  “Hello, my betrothed,” I said.

  “Let’s not make too much of a game of it, Morgan.”

  “Everything’s a game, Kim. It’s only the stakes that change.”

  She shut the door behind me and followed me inside, waited until I had settled myself in the big chair, then sat crosswise on the one by the desk. “You weren’t here last night.”

  “Did it matter?”

  “My people didn’t like it.”

  “Screw your people.”

  “Your part of this operation is voluntary.”

  “Okay, so I’m back.”

  Kim nodded, but there was a shadow of accusation in her eyes. “Not that it will matter to you,” she told me, “but I have signed a receipt for your person and until I in turn sign you over to your next custodian, my neck and career are on the block. I didn’t ask for this duty. I didn’t want it. But it was offered to me and I accepted it. Since your acceptance was of a voluntary nature I was hoping our arrangement would be to our mutual satisfaction. There’s no reason for either of us getting hurt.”

  “Oh, honey,” I said, “come off it. Hell, if I wanted to exercise my talents I’d take on the whole damn department you represent, not pick on just you. Now knock it off, okay?”

  Reluctantly, and with a dour grin, she said, “Okay, Morgan. We’ll stay loose and cool.”

  “Sure. Now ... anything on Gorman Yard?”

  For a few seconds she worried her lip with her teeth. “He’s dead, Morgan.”

  “What!”

  “There was an industrial accident in the prison machine shop. No one was held responsible.” She stopped, watched my reaction, then folded her arms on the back of the chair. “Since you were the one to institute the inquiry, they’ve started another investigation.”

  “That should be fun with those boys up there. They won’t get very far. How did the cops nail him in the first place?”

  “They ware tipped off to his whereabouts by an anonymous phone call. They followed up the story the informer gave them and made the charge stick. It was all cut and dry. Yard even confessed and didn’t try very hard to fight his conviction. It was almost as if he preferred being sent up.”

  “That might just be the way it was.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nothing. What about the rest of my forty million?”

  “So far, nothing has appeared. All possible outlets for bills of that denomination with those serial numbers had been alerted. You did a good job of it. The only trouble is, the heat’s not going to go off in this case. You can pass that on to the rest of your friends you worked that robbery out with.”

  “I’m a loner, Kim. You saw my record.”

  “This time you weren’t. It took more than one person to engineer that job. You pulled the same stunt twice during the war, getting those troop-movement plans and coordinates on the German blockhouses from their armored cars. You even laid it out ahead of time in Allied Headquarters, the booby-trap devices to stop their vehicles at a given spot, the D-Y gas to knock out the occupants without them ever knowing what had happened and the means of entry with that compact torch unit they devised for you. Only this time you improved your technique. There was no torch. It was more like an acid burn. They still can’t figure it. What did you use, Morgan?”

  Somehow her tone had changed to one of mild respect and I grinned at her. “We had six men on that deal, honey.”

  “I know. We looked into that too, wondering if they decided to beome accomplices in a bigger haul. Three are dead; one was a rather severe casualty and later disappeared into the limbo of Australia and the German national you worked with is now a staid, successful businessman in Berlin. No, you’re the only one left, the only one who could plan and execute a coup like that one.”

  “I accept your applause.”

  “It’s too bad you’re not worth it.”

  “Nuts.”

  “At least this way you can redeem yourself a little bit.”

  “Nuts to that, too,” I said.

  “Your funeral, Morgan.”

  “Maybe.” I looked at my watch. It was almost six thirty. “You packed?” I asked her.

  Puzzle lines touched her forehead. “Why?”

  “Because we’re leaving on our honeymoon.”

  She seemed to stiffen and her mouth went tight. “You said ... you wanted three days.”

  “Then let’s just say I can’t wait any longer. If I have to do this on my own I’m going to do it my own way. Get your bags packed. I have a car waiting downstairs. You’re on orders, so don’t buck me. Like you said, stay loose and cool. The worst of it is still ahead.”

  We were married in Georgia near the Florida line at a little place that specialized in “Marriage Certificate, Blood Test and Ceremony, One Hour.” My lack of any name but Morgan almost stopped the JP until I came up with my Army discharge papers and suggested their style of NFN-NMI, no first name-no middle initial; then he was ready for his routine.

  It wasn’t the happiest of weddings because Kim looked too nervous and I as too damn tired to react like a normal bridegroom should. When I kissed her as custom required and the JP and witnesses expected, it was more like a couple of fighters touching gloves before the first round began. But maybe it wasn’t such an abnormal reaction at that. The fee and tip were collected with a toothy smile and a hearty “good luck” while our first witness went to the phone to get the notice into the local paper.

  When we got back to the car Kim sat a little farther over than she had been and without looking at me said, “Now what?”

  “We make it look real, pet. We cross the state line, register at a motel and get some sleep.”

  I knew what she was thinking, but she didn’t say it. Her nod was one of perfunctory agreement, but a little shudder seemed to run across her shoulders and took the edge off for me. It’s always good to have a broad a little scared of you. I grinned at my reflection in the windshield, turned on the ignition and got back out on the highway.

  At dusk I spotted the Flora Palm Ranch Motel and turned in the pebbled driveway. Being off season, there were only a few other cars, but two of them had “Just Married” slogans painted on their sides and were festooned with ribbons and shredded pieces of crepe paper. I said, “We’re in good company, Kim.”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll get twin beds.”

  The clerk handed me the register and took my money without a second glance and slid a key to Number 20 across the counter. I left a wake-up call for six, then pulled the car down to our room and unloaded the two bags and stuck them inside the room. I had to have at least one kick out of the deal, so as Kim walked by I scooped her up in my arms and carried her inside. She let out a sudden, sharp gasp and froze momentarily in my arms until I put her down.

  “It’s an old custom, sugar. I’ve never been married before.”

  Very slowly the frost left her face and she smiled gently at me. One hand touched my cheek and she raised herself on her toes and touched her mouth against mine. It was only for a second, but the rich softness of her lips was bedded in warmth their moistness couldn’t quench.

  “I’m sorry, Morgan. It was sweet of you. I’ve never been married before either. Thank you.”

  “The government has some screwy regulations. I hope you know all the rules.”

  “I do. I hope you observe them.”

  “Don’t trust me too far, doll,” I grinned at her. “And don’t depend on your karate training.”

  “Now we’re back to that again,” she laughed. “How about this?”

  In her hand she held a tiny black automatic and the
snout was pointed right at my belly. But she didn’t see my hand move and suddenly the big hole in the end of the .45 in my fist was staring at a spot between her eyes. “How about that?” I asked her.

  “What a wonderful way to begin a marriage. I get your message, Morgan; now can we get to business?”

  “My pleasure, sweetheart.”

  For twenty minutes she was on the phone to her people, her guarded conversation giving the details of the wedding and our location. Evidently she was told to go ahead on her own; then for a full five minutes she did nothing but listen. When she hung up she swung around with an impatient gesture and said, “We’re to proceed as planned. There’s only one change.”

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “What change?”

  “The agency feels that we’ll have to move faster. They’re sending in word of our arrival.”

  “Those stupid...”

  She waved a hand to shut me up. “Not through our people. It will come from their own sources. More a rumor than anything else. At least we’ll be expected and you won’t have to do all the groundwork.”

  “That’s the key to the success of this thing. Don’t they know that?”

  “I’m sure they know what they’re doing.”

  “Damn it, they’d better.”

  “Do you mind tell me what arrangements you’ve made?”

  “When the time comes,” I told her.

  I picked up the telephone and gave a New York number to the switchboard. After the third ring it was picked up and a voice said, “Joey Jolley here.”

  “Morgan, Joey.”

  “Ah, you’ve reconsidered—”

  I cut him off. “No dice yet, Joey. Let things jell first.” “If that’s the way it has to be. What can I do for you?”

  “Gorman Yard is dead.”

  “Yes, I know,” he told me without any emotion. “I took the trouble to make inquiries. My source tells me the accident he sustained wasn’t of his own doing. Naturally, nobody’s talking, but you know the grapevine. Somebody inside there got orders to cool Mr. Yard and did an excellent job of it.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” I said.