The Killing Man

by Mickey Spillane

  Pat took my arm and hustled me toward his own unmarked cruiser close by. I said, “Where did you guys come from?”

  “Come on, pal, I alerted this team as soon as you headed over here.” He yanked a portable radio from his pocket and said into it, “Charlie squad, what have you got?”

  There was a click and a hum and a flat voice answered with, “One officer down in the patient’s room, Captain. We have a doctor here who says he was sapped, then drugged. There are two syringes on the bed table, both empty.”

  “Is the officer okay?”

  “Vital signs okay, the doc says.”

  I tapped Pat on the shoulder. “Tell him to check the last room down the hall on the right.”

  He passed the message on and a minute later the receiver hummed and the voice said, “Got a nurse down in there too, Captain. She got the same treatment. The patient who was here is gone.”

  “He sure is,” Pat told him.

  We went to get into the car when the radio came alive again. Pat barked a “Go ahead” and the cop on the other end said, “Captain, four hospital security guys just got here. They answered a call in the basement and wound up locked in a storeroom.”

  “Good. Get a statement from them and check both those rooms out.”

  “Roger, Captain.”

  He turned the key and put the car in gear. Up ahead the truck was turning the corner and he leaned on the gas to catch up to it. “Mind telling me where we’re going?”

  “For tonight you’re going fancy. The Ice Lady is putting you two up in her apartment.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You two aren’t going to be targets any more. The crap’s over, finished. Dr. Reedey is meeting us at Candace’s to check Velda out. We’ll hold you there overnight and get you squared away tomorrow. If you two weren’t friends, I’d slap both of you in a prison ward to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Did you get a good look at the guy you shot?”

  “I got a good look at both of them.”

  “Make ‘em?”

  He yanked on the wheel, pulling around a car and coming up directly behind the truck. “The slob playing cop was Nolo Abberniche. He started out as a kid with the Costello bunch. That bastard has knocked off a half dozen guys and all he has are three arrests on petty offenses.”

  “You seem to have a good line on him.”

  “Plenty of fliers, nationwide inquiries. Pal, you are traveling in some pretty heavy company. That other guy was Marty Santino. He’s another hit man, but he likes the fancy jobs. This one was right up his alley.”

  “Who’s paying for it, Pat?”

  “That died with those hoods. You know damn well we won’t find anything to tie them in directly with any of the mob boys, but we sure as hell know there’s a connection somewhere.”

  “Beautiful,” I said. “We wait for them to make another run on us.”

  “Not this time, Mike. You drop the code leading to a truckload of coke down our throats and we’re going to treat you like royalty until it shows up. They don’t know we own Anthony DiCica’s little secret. Well, once it’s in our hands they can go back to business as usual. You’re going to be our little secret too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked him.

  “Simple, pal. We’re taking you and Velda right out of the action. Both of you are too important as witnesses and possible targets to be exposed during the mop-up. I know damn well you’re not going to let her out of your sight, so we’re setting both of you up at a safe house of our choosing. Any objections?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I thought you’d do it my way for once.

  You’ll be covering Velda and we’ll be covering both of you just in case. It may seem redundant, but we don’t want to take any chances.“

  I nodded and looked back at the buildings passing by.

  The truck slowed, edging toward the curb, and pulled to a stop in front of the apartment building. The way the doorman came out to run us off you’d think we were from Mars, but when the blue uniforms showed, he backed off fast, held the doors open while the gurney came out and helped get it on the service elevator. I squeezed on beside it, and when I did, Velda’s eyes fluttered, then opened, and she looked at me. She didn’t know what had happened or where she was, but she knew me and smiled.

  Candace was waiting at her apartment and she wasn’t alone. Bennett Bradley and Lewis Ferguson were deep in conversation, and Coleman and Carmody were at the bar. They stopped what they were doing to help get Velda into the bedroom where Burke Reedey was laying out his supplies. There was nothing I could do so I went to the bar and made a drink for myself.

  “Make one for me too, please,” Candace said.

  I mixed the highball, turned around and handed it to her. “Appreciate your lending us the apartment.”

  “And I appreciate your trying to make me president.”

  “They shoot at presidents,” I said.

  “They shoot at cops too.”

  We clinked glasses, each taking a good pull at a drink. “How is Ray doing with the code?”

  “All we can do is wait. He’s linked in with Washington and Langley, and all we know is that it isn’t an ultrasophisticated concept. Apparently he had a working knowledge of codes, and with the repetition the computers can deliver, it shouldn’t take long.”

  “Who’s going on the bust?”

  “A select group. We’re assuming it’s within driving distance and the coordination is coming under federal jurisdiction. They can organize assistance from any local police departments if they have to.”

  “Where do you stand?”

  “In the catbird seat, my wonderful friend.” She looked past me and pointed.

  Pat was finishing with the cops who had brought Velda up and was waving me over to the table where the men were conferring over a map. They had circled out an area in New York State northwest of Kingston with Phoenicia as a hub. Ferguson was a ski buff and knew the area well, but best of all, he had access to a cottage in the mountainous section and had outlined the entry roads and was explaining the place’s benefits.

  “From the building there is good three-hundred-sixty-degree visibility. Power comes in from the road, but the place is equipped with emergency Coleman lanterns, a hand pump for water if the power goes out, and always has a good supply of split logs on hand for the fireplace.”

  He shaded in a section on the map and explained, “The house sits ... here.” He tapped the pencil to indicate the spot. “And approximately fifty yards away toward the road are two stone outcroppings, excellent positions as guard posts. A man can be stationed at both positions with a good field of fire that would cover anyone trying to gain entry.”

  “What about the rear?” I asked him.

  “A sheer cliff almost sixty feet high. They’d have to drop in by parachute. The foliage is just too thick for anybody to break through up there without a dozen machetes or brushhooks.”

  Pat said, “We’re not dealing with trained woods-men, Mike.”

  “You can buy them, kiddo.”

  “Not as fast as we can move.”

  I took another jolt of the highball. “Let’s give the other side a little credit. Suppose they had an observer at the hospital to catch the action. Suppose he saw what was going on and followed the truck back here.”

  “What’s your point, Mike?”

  “How are we getting out of this place without being spotted? They have men, money and machinery going for them too. They could have spotters with radios as well as the cops.”

  Pat gave me one of his noncommittal gestures again. “Suppose you just let us take care of that.”

  After what he pulled with the blast at the hospital, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Sure, pal, sorry,” I said. I finished the drink and went back for another one. Candace had it ready for me. For the first time that evening I took a close loo
k at her. There was no dress this time, just a beautifully tailored khaki jumpsuit that would look fashionable as hell at a cocktail party or would be casually efficient for a field sweep. Whatever she had in mind, she was ready for it. Those big sensual eyes were almost iridescent with anticipation, and the tautness of her body showed right through the twill of the jumpsuit.

  She knew I was going to say something.

  She was waiting to hear it.

  The phone rang. Instantly, the room went quiet. She picked up the receiver. When she scanned the room with one quick glance and nodded, we knew she was talking to Ray Wilson. She picked up a ballpoint pen, stripped a page off the pad beside the phone and began writing down the instructions. She finished, thanked him and hung up.

  “We have the location of the truck,” she said.

  “It’s in a barn on a farm north of Lake Hopatcong on Route Ninety-four, just before coming into Hamburg.”

  Bennett Bradley said, “I’ll alert the Jersey highway patrol, and they can pick us up on the other side of the George Washington Bridge with an escort.”

  “You want any county police on this?”

  “Forget it,” Bradley told him. “We don’t want to divulge any details of the site.” He went back to the map they were using for our relocation and found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said. “We’ll have two more cars meet us at the junction of Routes Fifteen and Ninety-four.” He picked up the phone, called the operator for the number of the Jersey highway patrol, then dialed it.

  Ferguson was thumbing through a pocket-size pad of his own and told Carmody, “If we start crossing agency lines on this, we’ll have one hell of a mess. Now, who wants it?”

  “How many men do you think we’ll need?” Carmody asked him.

  “At least a dozen, heavily armed, to guard that stuff. We may be able to keep the raid quiet, but we can’t plan on it.”

  “That load has got to be moved out. If the trailer’s in good shape, we’ll need a tractor to haul it and at least four mobile units for cover. The state guys can lead and be the tail on the convoy.”

  “Okay,” Frank Carmody told him. “This whole thing is going to be interstate, so let me handle it. The FBI can get on this from our local offices a lot faster than Langley can. That satisfactory?”

  “Fine by me,” Ferguson agreed. “I’ll stay on this end getting Hammer and his lady out of the area. Now, what’s the time schedule going to be like?”

  Both of them glanced at Bradley, who was putting the phone down. “That guy’s ready right now,” Carmody muttered.

  “He wants to make some points before his replacement gets here. Can’t blame him at all. However, he waits on this one. That stuff has been there so long a few more days won’t matter. The major thing is we know where it is and we don’t want to chance losing it at this point by a lot of hasty maneuvering.”

  Bradley came back, smiling gently, then raised his eyebrows at Carmody and Ferguson. “You two would make terrible poker players.”

  Carmody frowned, annoyed. “What?”

  “I don’t plan to barge right in on this,” Bradley told him.

  You could see the relief on their faces.

  Bradley said, “One car will make the run first. We want the exact location, photos taken of the area, then we’ll regroup for a final planning. The Jersey police will be given full authorization to work this under our command and will move on it the minute we call them.”

  “Who’s going in the car?”

  “Guess,” Candace said.

  “You think that’s practical?” Ferguson asked her.

  “A man and a woman riding together is a natural, gentlemen. Besides, I’m the only one who knows the fine details of the terminal point. Mr. Bradley and I will make a good team.”

  Bradley gave her a smile and a half bow. “It’s settled then.”

  “And when do Velda and I move out?” I asked.

  It was Ferguson who said, “First thing in the morning, buddy. We want to get you out of here at first light and settled in with guards on post before nightfall.”

  “Velda’s going to need clothes.”

  Candace said, “We’re both about the same size. I can outfit her with what she’ll need.”

  I was going to object, but Pat stopped me. “Do it that way, Mike. And you can pick up what you need from any store in the area. I wouldn’t suggest your going back to your apartment. You got any cash on you?”

  “Enough,” I told him.

  “How much ammo you got for your forty-five?”

  “Two full clips.”

  “Pick up a box.”

  “Who am I supposed to kill, Pat?”

  For the second that he said nothing, I saw the note in my mind. You die for killing me.

  “I’m sure you’ll find somebody,” Pat said jokingly.

  Burke Reedey had changed Velda’s bandage and helped her straighten up her hair. Under the makeup the signs of discoloration had almost faded and the swelling around her eye was nearly gone. Her lips were back to their natural shape and fullness, and I sat on the edge of the gurney and laid my palm against her cheek. “How you doing, baby?”

  Her smile started before her eyes opened, then she said, “At least I’m not pregnant.”

  “Clever thought.”

  “Life around you is never dull, Mike. Dangerous, but never dull.”

  “Sorry, kitten.” My fingers brushed the edges of her hair lightly.

  “Burke didn’t want to tell me what happened.”

  “How much do you remember?”

  She closed her eyes, thought about it a moment and looked up at me. “I had been asleep. The doctor had given me a sedative. There seemed to be some noise that wakened me, and I knew somebody was in the room, but I thought it was Burke who had come back. Then a needle went into my arm and I was back asleep again. There were shots. I do remember shots, but they were part of my sleep.” Her eyes narrowed discernibly. “They were shots, weren’t they?”

  “Two guys who tried to snatch you were killed.”

  “You?”

  “I hit one in the arm, but Pat knocked him off. Snipers got the other one.”

  “Mike ... why me?”

  “To hurt me, doll. They still thought they could squeeze me for information I didn’t even have, if they had you.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Now we know what they want. That’s why we’re getting off the scene until this event is over.”

  “Since when do you cut out, Mike?” Her voice had an angry tone.

  “When you need somebody to cover your ass, doll. Now shut up and take it as it comes.” I leaned forward, cradling her head in my hands, and kissed her mouth. Then her hands came up and held me too, and our mouths were soft and gentle together, full of warmth that I had missed so badly.

  Behind me, Candace coughed softly, and I eased Velda back. Burke had given her another sedative and she was getting sleepy. She had another jumpsuit outfit over her arm. “Let me dress her now,” she said. “Then she’ll be ready for the trip.”

  I nodded and went outside, half closing the door. Pat was on the telephone, two new plainclothes cops were in the room, and the other three were bent over the map again.

  Five minutes later Candace came out and shut the door gently. “There’s a suitcase of casual things and some underwear by the door. My shoes will be a little oversize on her, but it won’t matter.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “I saw the way you kissed her.”

  “We’re old friends.”

  “Bullshit. Why don’t you just say you love her?”

  “Why do girls always think—”

  “Because we’re jealous, Mike. When a girl’s not in love, she’s jealous of anybody else who is.”

  “You know ...”

  Candace put her finger on my mouth. “Don’t say anything silly, big boy. We had a few wild moments and it was good. Crazy, but very good. You realize it never would have lasted for
us.”

  I grinned at her and gave her hip a little pat. “Call me when the screwballs think they have you cornered.”

  “When will that be?”

  “When you’re president, kiddo.”

  Pat turned that sharp look on me when I said the word, and we both remembered we still had Penta in the picture somewhere. He was going to eliminate the vice president of the United States, but first he had to finish a job for himself.

  12

  The trip upstate started before dawn. It began with a ride in a police cruiser to the local precinct station, a switch to an unmarked car with us stretched out on the floor in the rear, winding up at the Fourth Precinct downtown with a shuffle to another car, indistinguishable in the shuffle of vehicles coming and going in the vicinity.

  Now Ferguson was driving and I rode in the backseat with Velda’s head on my shoulder, while two other cars hung back a few hundred feet, the occupants from the bureau’s local office. Ferguson knew them all and assured me they were good men.

  We crossed the bridge, headed north and picked up the New York State Thruway at Suffern and stayed at speed limit while the guard cars played little games to make sure nobody was following us. At our speed nearly everybody passed and kept on going or turned off at the exit ramps.

  All the cars had constant radio communication and when we got to Kingston, we all turned off the thruway and gassed up. I found a store to pick up the clothes I needed, got a flashlight, extra batteries and a box of .45s. When we loaded up again, we picked up Route 28 going northwest and practically had the road to ourselves.

  Now it was Ferguson’s backyard. He knew where he was headed, took us past Mt. Tremper, through Phoenicia, and a few miles farther on he radioed the other cars he was turning off, would continue for a half mile and stop while they did the same thing a quarter mile up. If anybody was doing a delayed-action tailing job, they’d be spotted coming off the main road.

  Where he pulled up was a shale-topped drive that had earmarks of having been long in use, but not very often. When we stopped, we waited for a full fifteen minutes before the all clear was given, then we drove ahead at slow speed, took a righthand fork for another half mile, then broke out of the woods that had surrounded us onto a grassy plain, and there ahead was the house and the rock outcroppings that made natural guard-posts.