The Mike Hammer Collection, Volume 3

by Mickey Spillane

  I said, “Don’t you like living?”

  A shadow passed across her face and the knuckles of her hand on the arms of the chair went white. “I stopped living when Leo died. I thought I’d never live again.”

  “Kid—”

  “No, it’s true, Mike. I know all the objections you can put up about our backgrounds and present situations but it still doesn’t make any difference. It doesn’t alter a simple fact that I knew days ago. I fell in love with you, Mike. I took one look at you and fell in love, knowing then that objections would come, troubles would be a heritage and you might not love me at all.”

  “Laura—”

  “Mike—I started to live again. I thought I was dead and I started to live again. Have I pushed you into anything?”

  “No.”

  “And I won’t. You can’t push a man. All you can do is try, but you just can’t push a man and a woman should know that. If she can, then she doesn’t have a man.”

  She waved me to be quiet and went on. “I don’t care how you feel toward me. I hope, but that is all. I’m quite content knowing I can live again and no matter where you are you’ll know that I love you. It’s a peculiar kind of courtship, but these are peculiar times and I don’t care if it has to be like this. Just be sure of one thing. You can have anything you want from me, Mike. Anything. There’s nothing you can ask me to do that I won’t do. Not one thing. That’s how completely yours I am. There’s a way to be sure. Just ask me. But I won’t push you. If you ask me never to speak of it again, then I’ll do that too. You see, Mike, it’s a sort of hopeless love, but I’m living again, I’m loving, and you can’t stop me from loving you. It’s the only exception to what you can ask—I won’t stop loving you.

  “But to answer your question, yes, I like living. You brought me alive. I was dead before.”

  There was a beauty about her then that was indescribable. I said, “Anything you know can be too much. You’re a target now. I don’t want you to be an even bigger one.”

  “I’ll only die if you die,” she said simply.

  “Laura—”

  She wouldn’t let me finish. “Mike—do you love me—at all?”

  The sun was a honeyed cloud in her hair, bouncing off the deep brown of her skin to bring out the classic loveliness of her features. She was so beautifully deep-breasted, her stomach molding itself hollow beneath the outline of her ribs, the taut fabric of the sleeveless playsuit accentuating the timeless quality that was Laura.

  I said, “I think so, Laura. I don’t know for sure. It’s just that I—can’t tell anymore.”

  “It’s enough for now,” she said. “That little bit will grow because it has to. You were in love before, weren’t you?”

  I thought of Charlotte and Velda and each was like being suddenly shot low down when knowledge precedes breathlessness and you know it will be a few seconds before the real pain hits.

  “Yes,” I told her.

  “Was it the same?”

  “It’s never the same. You are—different.”

  She nodded. “I know, Mike. I know.” She waited, then added, “It will be—the other one—or me, won’t it?”

  There was no sense lying to her. “That’s right.”

  “Very well. I’m satisfied. So now do you want to talk to me? Shall I listen for you?”

  I leaned back in the chair, let my face look at the sun with my eyes closed and tried to start at the beginning. Not the beginning the way it happened, but the beginning the way I thought it could have happened. It was quite a story. Now I had to see if it made sense.

  I said:

  “There are only principals in this case. They are odd persons, and out of it entirely are the police and the Washington agencies. The departments only know results, not causes, and although they suspect certain things they are not in a position to be sure of what they do. We eliminate them and get to basic things. They may be speculative, but they are basic and lead to conclusions.

  “The story starts at the end of World War I with an espionage team headed by Gerald Erlich who, with others, had visions of a world empire. Oh, it wasn’t a new dream. Before him there had been Alexander and Caesar and Napoleon so he was only picking up an established trend. So Erlich’s prime mover was nullified and he took on another—Hitler. Under that regime he became great and his organization became more nearly perfected, and when Hitler died and the Third Reich became extinct this was nothing too, for now the world was more truly divided. Only two parts remained, the East and the West, and he chose, for the moment, to side with the East. Gerald Erlich picked the Red Government as his next prime mover. He thought they would be the ultimate victors in the conquest of the world, then, when the time was right, he would take over from them.

  “Ah, but how time and circumstances can change. He didn’t know that the Commies were equal to him in their dreams of world empire. He didn’t realize that they would find him out and use him while he thought they were in his hands. They took over his organization. Like they did the rest of the world they control, they took his corrupt group and corrupted it even further. But an organization they could control. The leader of the organization, a fanatical one, they knew they couldn’t. He had to go. Like dead.

  “However, Erlich wasn’t quite that stupid. He saw the signs and read them right. He wasn’t young any longer and his organization had been taken over. His personal visions of world conquest didn’t seem quite so important anymore and the most important thing was to stay alive as best he could and the place to do it was in the States. So he came here. He married well under the assumed name of Rudy Civac to a rich widow and all was well in his private world for a time.

  “Then, one day, they found him. His identity was revealed. He scrambled for cover. It was impossible to ask for police protection so he did the next best thing, he called a private detective agency and as a subterfuge, used his wife’s jewels as the reason for needing security. Actually, he wanted guns around. He wanted shooting protection.

  “Now here the long arm of fate struck a second time. Not coincidence—but fate, pure unblemished fate. I sent Velda. During the war she had been young, beautiful, intelligent, a perfect agent to use against men. She was in the O.S.S., the O.S.I. and another highly secretive group and assigned to Operation Butterfly Two, which was nailing Gerald Erlich and breaking down his organization. The war ended before it could happen, she was discharged, came with me into the agency because it was a work she knew and we stayed together until Rudy Civac called for protection. He expected me. He got her.

  “Fate struck for sure when she saw him. She knew who he was. She knew that a man like that had to be stopped because he might still have his purposes going for him. There was the one thing she knew that made Gerald Elrich the most important man in the world right then. He knew the names and identities of every major agent he ever had working for him and these were such dedicated people they never stopped working—and now they were working for the Reds.

  “Coincidence here. Or Fate. Either will do. This was the night the Red agents chose to act. They hit under the guise of burglars. They abducted Rudy Civac, his wife and Velda. They killed the wife, but they needed Rudy to find out exactly what he knew.

  “And Velda played it smart. She made like she was part of Civac’s group just to stay alive and it was conceivable that she had things they must know too. This we can’t forget—Velda was a trained operative—she had prior experience even I didn’t know about. Whatever she did she made it stick. They got Civac and her back into Europe and into Red territory and left the dead wife and the stolen jewels as a red herring that worked like a charm, and while Velda was in the goddamn Russian country I was drinking myself into a lousy pothole—”

  She spoke for the first time. She said, “Mike—” and I squeezed open my eyes and looked at her.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s all right. I understand.”

  I closed my eyes again and let the picture form.

  “The
Commies aren’t the greatest brains in the world, though. Those stupid peasants forgot one thing. Both Civac—or Erlich—and Velda were pros. Someplace along the line they slipped and both of them cut out. They got loose inside the deep Iron Curtain and from then on the chase was on.

  “Brother, I bet heads rolled after that. Anyway, when they knew two real hotshots were on the run they called in the top man to make the chase. The Dragon. Comrade Gorlin. But I like The Dragon better. I’ll feel more like St. George when I kill him.” And won’t Art hate me for that, I thought.

  “The chase took seven years. I think I know what happened during that time. Civac and Velda had to stay together to pool their escape resources. One way or another Velda was able to get things from Civac—or Erlich—and the big thing was those names. I’ll bet she made him recount every one and she committed them to memory and carried them in her head all the way through so that she was fully as important now as Civac was.

  “Don’t underplay the Reds. They’re filthy bastards, every one, but they’re on the ball when it comes to thinking out the dirty work. They’re so used to playing it themselves that it’s second nature to them. Hell, they knew what happened. They knew Velda was as big as Erlich now—perhaps even bigger. Erlich’s dreams were on the decline . . . what Velda knew would put us on the upswing again, so above all, she had to go.

  “So The Dragon in his chase concentrated on those two. Eventually he caught up with Erlich and shot him. That left Velda. Now he ran into a problem. During her war years she made a lot of contacts. One of them was Richie Cole. They’d meet occasionally when he was off assignment and talk over the old days and stayed good friends. She knew he was in Europe and somehow or other made contact with him. There wasn’t time enough to pass on what she had memorized and it wasn’t safe to write it down, so the answer was to get Velda back to the States with her information. There wasn’t even time to assign the job to a proper agency.

  “Richie Cole broke orders and took it upon himself to protect Velda and came back to the States. He knew he was followed. He knew The Dragon would make him a target—he knew damn well there wouldn’t be enough time to do the right thing, but Velda had given him a name. She gave him me and a contact to make with an old newsie we both knew well.

  “Sure, Cole tried to make the contact, but The Dragon shot him first. Trouble was, Cole didn’t die. He held off until they got hold of me because Velda told him I was so damn big I could break the moon apart in my bare hands and he figured if she said it I really could. Then he saw me.”

  I put my face in my hands to rub out the picture. “Then he saw me!”

  “Mike—”

  “Let’s face it, kid. I was a drunk.”

  “Mike—”

  “Shut up. Let me talk.”

  Laura didn’t answer, but her eyes hoped I wasn’t going off the deep end, so I stopped a minute, poured some coffee, drank it, then started again.

  “Once again those goddamn Reds were smart. They back-tracked Velda and found out about me. They knew what Richie Cole was trying to do. Richie knew where Velda was and wanted to tell me. He died before he did. They thought he left the information with Old Dewey and killed the old man. They really thought I knew and they put a tail on me to see if I made a contact. They tore Dewey’s place and my place apart looking for information they thought Cole might have passed to me. Hell, The Dragon even tried to kill me because he thought I wasn’t really important at all and was better out of the way.”

  I leaned back in the chair, my insides feeling hollow all of a sudden. Laura asked, “Mike, what’s the matter?”

  “Something’s missing. Something big.”

  “Please don’t talk any more.”

  “It’s not that. I’m just tired, I guess. It’s hard to come back to normal this fast.”

  “If we took a swim it might help.”

  I opened my eyes and looked at her and grinned. “Sick of hearing hard luck stories?”

  “No.”

  “Any questions?”

  She nodded. “Leo. Who shot him?”

  I said, “In this business guns can be found anywhere. I’m never surprised to see guns with the same ballistics used in different kills. Did you know the same gun that shot your husband and Richie Cole was used in some small kill out West?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “There seemed to be a connection through the jewels. Richie’s cover was that of a sailor and smuggler. Your jewels were missing. Pat made that a common factor. I don’t believe it.”

  “Could Leo’s position in government—well, as you intimated—”

  “There is a friend of mine who says no. He has reason to know the facts. I’ll stick with him.”

  “Then Leo’s death is no part of what you are looking for?”

  “I don’t think so. In a way I’m sorry. I wish I could help avenge him too. He was a great man.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “I’ll take you up on that swim.”

  “The suits are in the bathhouse.”

  “That should be fun,” I said.

  In the dim light that came through the ivy-screened windows we turned our backs and took off our clothes. When you do that deliberately with a woman, it’s hard to talk and you are conscious only of the strange warmth and the brief, fiery contact when skin meets skin and a crazy desire to turn around and watch or to grab and hold or do anything except what you said you’d do when the modest moment was in reality a joke—but you didn’t quite want it to be a joke at all.

  Then before we could turn it into something else and while we could still treat it as a joke, we had the bathing suits on and she grinned as she passed by me. I reached for her, stopped her, then turned because I saw something else that left me cold for little ticks of time.

  Laura said, “What is it, Mike?”

  I picked the shotgun out of the corner of the room. The building had been laid up on an extension of the tennis court outside and the temporary floor was clay. Where the gun rested by the door water from the outside shower had seeped in and wet it down until it was a semi-firm substance, a blue putty you could mold in your hand.

  She had put the shotgun down muzzle first and both barrels were plugged with clay and when I picked it up it was like somebody had taken a bite out of the blue glop with a cookie cutter two inches deep!

  Before I opened it I asked her, “Loaded?”

  “Yes.”

  I thumbed the lever and broke the gun. It fell open and I picked out the two twelve-guage Double O shells, then slapped the barrels against my palm until the cores of clay emerged far enough for me to pull them out like the deadly plugs they were.

  She saw the look on my face and frowned, not knowing what to say. So I said it instead. “Who put the gun here?”

  “I did.”

  “I thought you knew how to handle it?” There was a rasp in my voice you could cut with a knife.

  “Leo—showed me how to shoot it.”

  “He didn’t show you how to handle it, apparently.”

  “Mike—”

  “Listen, Laura, and you listen good. You play with guns and you damn well better know how to handle them. You went and stuck this baby’s nose down in the muck and do you know what would happen if you ever tried to shoot it?”

  Her eyes were frightened at what she saw in my face and she shook her head. “Well, damn it, you listen then. Without even thinking you stuck this gun in heavy clay and plugged both barrels. It’s loaded with high-grade sporting ammunition of the best quality and if you ever pulled the trigger you would have had one infinitesimal span of life between the big then and the big now because when you did the back blast in that gun would have wiped you right off the face of the earth.”

  “Mike—”

  “No—keep quiet and listen. It’ll do you good. You won’t make the mistake again. That barrel would unpeel like a tangerine and you’d get that whole charge right down your lovely throat and if ever you want to give a pol
ice medical examiner a job to gag a maggot, that’s the way to do it. They’d have to go in and scrape your brains up with a silent butler and pick pieces of your skull out of the woodwork with needle-nosed pliers. I saw eyeballs stuck to a wall one time and if you want to really see a disgusting sight, try that. They’re bigger than you would expect them to be and they leak fluid all the time they look at you trying to lift them off the boards and then you have no place to put them except in your hand and drop them in the bucket with the rest of the pieces. They float on top and keep watching you until you put on the lid.”

  “Mike!”

  “Damn it, shut up! Don’t play guns stupidly around me! You did it, now listen!”

  Both hands covered her mouth and she was almost ready to vomit.

  “The worst of all is the neck because the head is gone and the neck spurts blood for a little bit while the heart doesn’t know its vital nerve center is gone—and do you know how high the blood can squirt? No? Then let me tell you. It doesn’t just ooze. It goes up under pressure for a couple of feet and covers everything in the area and you wouldn’t believe just how much blood the body has in it until you see a person suddenly become headless and watch what happens. I’ve been there. I’ve had it happen. Don’t let it happen to you!”

  She let her coffee go on the other side of the door and I didn’t give a damn because anybody that careless with a shotgun or any other kind of a gun needs it like that to make them remember. I wiped the barrels clean, reloaded the gun and put it down in place, butt first.

  When I came out Laura said, “Man, are you mean.”

  “It’s not a new saying.” I still wasn’t over my mad.

  Her smile was a little cockeyed, but a smile nevertheless. “Mike—I understand. Please?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you watch it. I play guns too much. It’s my business. I hate to see them abused.”

  “Please, Mike?”

  “Okay. I made my point.”

  “Nobly, to say the least. I usually have a strong stomach.”

  “Go have some coffee.”

  “Oh, Mike.”