by J. T. Edson
‘I wonder who did steal the bloody thing?’ Blandish said, escorting his guests from the grass runway. ‘Or who’d want it, if it comes to that. Lumbering along at such a low speed, and with the low level it’d be restricted to by all those Tommy guns, its use would be very limited against any enemy able to deploy anti-aircraft guns and automatic weapons. It might be safe for dealing with rampaging fuzzy-wuzzies, but there wouldn’t be any hope of survival against the Hun or even those Ruskies who I’m sure will eventually become an even bigger threat to world peace.’
‘I’ve heard of “fuzzy-wuzzies”,’ Ranse remarked, knowing this to be the name given to various tribes of primitive and fanatical warriors in the Soudan. ‘I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay much longer, amigo,’ Ranse warned. ‘I could have a real busy night’s work waiting for me back in the Big City.’
‘They did that quite well.’ assessed Rita Yarborough, watching the now scantily clad victress and loser being helped from the open area in the center of the room after the first bout of the ‘Cat Fight Night’ at the Pinhole Club. ‘In fact, except there was no blood, it looked like the real thing. Of course, those of the girls Jason introduced us to said it’s only rarely any of them do get hurt.’
‘What we heard tell, though,’ Mark ‘Comanche Blood’ Scrapton corrected. ‘Molly Nickerson got chomped, whomped and stomped real good the night before she got made wolf bait.’
‘That was by an outsider who she’d been told to take it easy with,’ Rita pointed out. She was pretending to be a prostitute brought from America by her boyfriend so that she could acquire information which would not have been so readily available to her male companions. She had said her boyfriend’s interests included watching women fighting and this had produced the details she was seeking. ‘Not one of the girls.’
‘That’s her, with that obnoxious little twister, Snoopy Frithington-Evans’ party, at what would be a ringside table if there was a ring,’ 62 supplied Jason Grant, whose surname only a few people knew to be Reeder, indicating the appropriate location with a gesture of his right hand.
The days since the arrival in London of Rita and her escort of Texans had been spent establishing all of them, with the exception of Ranse Smith, amongst the underworld as criminals of a particularly dangerous kind from America!
However, one part of the plan had been changed by circumstances beyond the conspirators’ control!
It had been intended that Jason Grant would introduce Rapido and Comanche as a couple of professional gunmen who would be willing to take on assignments provided the price was right. By doing so, offers might be made for them to remove Mr. Reeder and lead them to the Chopper.
Suspecting Churgwin and Wallace Oswald ‘Wally’ Marks were the most deeply involved of the underworld, being those most likely to have brought the hired killer to England, the Texans had intended to make their acquaintance. However, the supposition that Olga Flack might still be alive had prevented the meeting with either the gang leader or the solicitor. If she should have engineered her escape, at the cost of four lives, she was sure to ruin the deception by identifying the smaller sergeant as one of those responsible for her father being killed.
Despite it being unwise to continue with the original scheme, the conspirators had elected to go on with the pretense of being American criminals being ‘shown the sights’ by an Englishman who was believed by the underworld to be a successful jewel thief. 63 By doing so, not only might they be approached by less well connected ‘customers’ with designs on the future well-being of Mr. Reeder, but if word of their presence and supposed interest in being hired for the task reached the Chopper, it might induce him to come out of hiding and either warn them off or suggest an alliance. Therefore, they had made the rounds of London’s night clubs and the various haunts of the habitual criminals each night, dropping hints which it was hoped would draw the Chopper into the open.
While the scheme had not produced the desired result, the party had acquired information on other subjects as well as that in which they were most interested. Scotland Yard was able to clear up three cases and make several arrests as one result of their efforts. However, the most important data had been concerned with the events which led to the murder of Molly Nickerson. Procured mostly by Rita, it was revealed how the prostitute had suffered a bad beating at the hands of Lady Mary Herban which, they all agreed with Mr. James Garfield Reeder’s supposition, had caused her to attempt the betrayal from inside the Pinhole Club thus, because of the monitoring of the telephone, subsequently losing her life.
Discovering a ‘Cat Fight Night’ was arranged for Friday evening, the conspirators had concluded it might be turned to their advantage. Therefore, Jason Grant had obtained the requisite means of entry for himself and his American companions. Dressed in a manner suitable for such an occasion, but not carrying firearms, apart from a Remington Double Derringer pistol—an effective weapon in spite of its age, and easy to conceal in Rita’s reticule, they arrived at the club hoping to put their plan into effect.
On their arrival, the party had discovered everything they wanted for their purpose was present!
Looking around and seeing that conditions were in their favor, one member of the group decided their plan might possibly be amended to its added advantage!
‘Looks like “old home week”,’ Alvin Dustine ‘Rapido Clint’ Fog commented dryly, making a surreptitious gesture towards where Wallace Oswald ‘Wally’ Marks sat with his two private and confidential secretaries at another of the ringside tables. ‘Could be we’ll get us a bonus out of it, them being here.’
‘You watch Sylvia and, more particularly, Nina if you have in mind what I know you have, Rapido,’ the Englishman advised, conforming with the precaution of always referring to the two Texans by their aliases. ‘I know you’re good but she’s tough like a lot of so—called hard men think they are.’
‘First sight I got of her,’ Comanche drawled, studying the massive and unprepossessing bulk of Nina Tanner with a less than flattering gaze. ‘I thought, now there’s either a fairly pretty monster, or one real ugly lil ole gal. Man, is she ever big and mean looking?’
‘It’s not any of them, but her I’m interested in,’ Rita declared nodding towards the table occupied by Frithington-Evans and his party. A grim timbre came into her voice as she continued, ‘And I’m quite looking forward to meeting Lady Mary Herban.’
‘Are you sure you want to go through with it?’ Jason Grant asked, having harbored misgivings where this particular portion of the scheme was concerned.
‘We are!’ the girl declared, before either Texan could express a point of view.
‘And, should you know her the way we do, amigo.’ Rapido declared, although he too wished their purpose could be achieved without Rita playing her part in it. ‘You’d know she’s one gal who’s real set in her ways when she’s made up her Down-East-Yankee mind to do something.’
‘There’s just no way of talking her out of it at all,’ Comanche supported, sharing the sentiments of his male companions in spite of the apparent levity in his drawl ‘So all any of us can say is, go get her, Rita-gal!’
‘Yes,’ the girl replied, starting to ease back her chair in a manner redolent of grim determination and not a little anticipatory satisfaction. ‘I think I will!’
Chapter Fourteen – Scrum Down, Boys!
Having risen without troubling to look around, the blonde who was the youngest and far the most striking member of the group around the table hosted by Horace Wilberforce ‘Snoopy’ Frithington-Evans intended to propose a toast. Before she could speak, she felt herself brought into unexpected contact from behind with what she realized could only be another woman. The bump was sufficiently hard to cause the brimming glass of a bright pink concoction, described as a ‘Singapore Stinger’ by the member of the so-called ‘smart set’ who had devised it, to jerk sharply. This in turn sprayed its contents over the most expensive—considering the scanty amount of material used to make it
—low cut, sleeveless, backless and almost ‘frontless’ to waist level dress which had excited interest from everybody and a few disapproving sniffs, or sotto voce comments of disapproval from others of her sex, on her entrance into the main dining room of the Pinhole Club to attend the ‘Cat Fight Night’.
Some people might have claimed she was most inadequately attired in her daringly revealing Paris creation, selected as serving to display her figure to a point approaching very close to immodesty, even by the standards of that section of society to which she belonged. Her worst enemy—and there were several women present who might have cared to lay claim to that distinction—could not deny Lady Mary Herban was both extremely shapely and beautiful. On the other hand, even those who regarded themselves as sufficiently broad—minded to accept her lack of moral scruples and liked her conceded—if not openly—that she had her faults. Not only was she disloyal to a very wealthy husband whose work kept him out of the country for long periods, but she was also arrogant and, without the saving grace of being equally quick to forgive, had a temper which was frequently bad and always quick.
Therefore, although she was just as much to blame for the mishap, Lady Mary was not likely to accept with equanimity or Christian forbearance being bumped into and having a cocktail spilled over her expensive evening gown. Nor, on swinging around with a vigor which overturned her chair, was her temper improved in the slightest by discovering the cause of the accident was the extremely curvaceous red head whose attire—as she had noticed with annoyance on her arrival—alone came close to matching the deliberately sought eye—catching brevity of her own.
‘You clumsy bitch!’ the blonde beauty screeched, flinging down the glass so it shattered on the table.
Which was just the kind of response Rita Yarborough had hoped to elicit!
‘Goddamn it, blondie!’ the female member of Company ‘Z’s’ contingent ejaculated, deliberately broadening her American accent with what appeared an equal wrath. ‘Isn’t this place big enough for you to jump up like a gold-durned drunken Red Indian without having to bump into me like that?’
It was not, the red head concluded from what she had learned about the arrogant natured aristocratic blonde, the most tactful way of speaking, even though their collision was supposed to have been accidental!
In fact, Rita realized, many people would have considered her behavior most ill—advised under the circumstances!
When making her plan of campaign for the night’s activities, learning that Major John Gray’s valet was on intimate terms with a woman who suffered as maid in the service of Lady Mary, the red head had seen how this might be turned to the advantage of herself and her companions. Asking him to try and discover what the blonde would be wearing at the Pinhole Club, on receiving the information, she had searched London until finding attire of a similarly revealing and attention—drawing nature. On noticing the annoyance which Lady Mary did not trouble to conceal when she caught sight of the resemblance between their less than decorous attire, she had concluded she was correct in her assumption and thought it would prove beneficial to her intended strategy.
As Rita had anticipated and counted upon, having crossed from her table with the intention of ‘accidentally’ bumping into the blonde, her task was made easier by the other having risen while she was approaching. Causing the collision had aroused annoyance and the discovery that the attractive red head was responsible had added fuel to a very quick temper.
Watching for any hostile reaction her words might provoke from Lady Mary, the red head became aware that—as she had concluded would be the case—others were starting to take notice of what was happening.
Although the party with whom the blonde had been sitting were watching, none of them spoke or made any other kind of attempt to intercede in the interests of avoiding a ‘scene’. Rather, if their expressions were any indication, they harbored hopes to the contrary over the way in which the situation might develop. Knowing her, in fact, they were wondering whether she had arranged for the incident to help pander to her exhibitionistic tendencies. Attracted by the loudly spoken and clearly irate comments, the occupants of the most adjacent tables also began to suspend their conversations and look on with unconcealed anticipation. Soon, as interest in what was taking place spread rapidly, a silence composed of eager expectation began to descend on the room.
In the interests of creating an appearance of realism, prior to each of the pre-arranged ‘bouts’ on a ‘Cat Fight Night’, the ‘combatants’ would enact a similar brief scene to convey the impression that there was a genuine reason for the forthcoming tussling and tearing off of clothing in which they would indulge. Therefore, being aware of this, the less regular attendants who did not know Lady Mary and had missed her earlier participation believed something of the kind was occurring. Those who recognized her, whether they had seen her clash with Molly Nickerson or not, had hopes along the same lines.
For her part, starting to share Rita’s realization of what was going on all around, the arrogant blonde was neither disturbed nor alarmed at finding herself at the center of attraction. While there were limits to just how far she would go, certainly being unlikely to, ‘raid herself into a vice den just to get her name in the papers’, as had once been suggested, albeit not when she was present, 64 she had never been averse to being noticed and, provided it was along lines she considered acceptable, supplying a topic of conversation. Therefore, she not only had no objections to being seen engaged in a ‘slanging match’ with another woman, she also realized how it might be turned to an even more satisfactory attraction.
After having made a number of derisive comments about the less than convincing efforts of two inexperienced ‘combatants’ during the previous ‘Cat Fight Night’, Lady Mary had been provoked by another female member of her party into betting she could give a more impressive display. However, in spite of having taken lessons in self-defense—which included learning several wrestling holds and throws—being determined to win the wager, she had sought to gain an advantage. Making arrangements without the other participant in the wager knowing, she had induced William Maxwell ‘Billy’ Churgwin to persuade the opponent he selected to believe it was only going to be a friendly tussle and not to be too rough.
As he had no desire to see a wealthy customer suffer an injury likely to make her and her friends take their custom elsewhere, the owner of the Pinhole Club had been only too willing to go along with the blonde’s suggestions. Therefore, she had been able to inflict some weakening punishment before her true intentions became apparent to her opponent. Even when Molly Nickerson realized what was going on and started to retaliate in earnest, not only had her injuries lessened her ability to fight back, but she found herself up against an antagonist far stronger and more dangerous than she had anticipated.
Winning, after a considerably harder struggle than she anticipated, Lady Mary had not escaped unscathed as she had hoped would be the case. Nevertheless, she found the pain she was experiencing considerably eased by the enthusiastic response from the spectators. Their applause had also proved most pleasing to her ego. Furthermore, having once been sued by a maid whose head she had cut open with a vase she had thrown, she had also derived satisfaction from being able to vent her aggressive tendencies without incurring a similar response from her latest victim.
Glancing swiftly about her, the arrogant blonde beauty sensed everybody was anticipating her taking some form of more than verbal action against the red head. Studying the attire worn by the other, she was given an added inducement by resentment over them both being dressed in such a similarly daring and attention-seeking fashion. Nor did the realization that the spilled Singapore Stinger would ruin her dress do anything to dissuade her from what everybody present clearly expected of her.
‘Blondie? Lady Mary screeched back, never one to disappoint an audience. Having made a correct deduction from the accent of the red head, she went on, ‘It was you who bumped into me, you American barbarian!’
‘An American barbarian!’
‘That’s what I thought you said!’
Having provoked the required provocation and made her response, Rita did not wait for the bouncers to arrive!
Knotting her right fist in its elbow long blue cotton glove, the red head swung it around!
Taken completely unprepared by such a sudden and not yet expected hostile physical reaction and caught on the jaw with considerable force, the aristocratic blonde was sent spinning past her party’s table. Losing a high heeled shoe did nothing to help her halt the helpless twirling stagger which was taking her into the center of the open area prepared and left vacant for the ‘combats’.
Alighting on hands and knees Lady Mary found her troubles were far from over. Darting after her, her assailant delivered a kick to her ideally presented rump and it precipitated her forward to land face down in an untidy sprawl. Before she could recover her wits, much less think about responding to her treatment, she felt the back of her flimsy dress grasped by two hands. Then it was given a wrench which tore it from her, even though, unlike the garments worn by regular contenders, it had not been weakened at the seams to facilitate the destruction and loss. Next, her assailant sank both hands into her stylishly short cropped hair and began to haul her upwards in a most painful fashion.
‘Look at that!’ Frithington-Evans ejaculated, watching the blonde reduced to undergarments—as insubstantial as the forcibly removed dress-silk stockings and one shoe. Plump and porcine of features, he would never have thought of making such a suggestion if things had been going in the blonde’s favor. However, realizing events were not going as she planned, he shoved back his chair and went on, ‘Come on. Let’s stop her!’
