“Okay then what do you want?” Dean tapped his cigarette holder with his finger, and slid it to the corner of his mouth.
“I know you plugged Lance” he hissed by way of a reply. Suddenly Locke hurled himself to his feet and scowled at the inspector, grabbing the pistol again, cocking it and levelling it point blank to Rogers skull.
“No need to fire” Rogers said “Couldn’t prove it, even if I wanted to” For a second Locke paused, eyeing Roger up warily. He sat down, his fingers tapping the guns tricker longingly.
“Who the hell are you, mister, spill before I spill your blood!” he spat “and what the hell do you want. Start talking or I swear I'll gift you with a slug!”
“My names Daniel Penzler,” the Inspector replied “I want to cut in!”
“cut in what?” Monroe warbled a trickle of fear starting to again creep into his voice.
“I know both your dead pals, were major cog and now there worm food, there are two fresh spots in this here smuggling ring.” Rogers added confidently hoping his bluff would be enough to carry him through. “An it takes no brain to realize you need at least one of them spots filled. The Bombay side for instance. Before you ask, Lance sung me your song when I was in Bombay. Where shall we say I was on other business with the House” Rogers added, he hoped the yarn about the House wasn’t just a fairy story, he wasn’t even sure if the House even existed. But it was to late now he had no choice but run with it.
“Anyway I followed him to London then here to Liberty. After I heard his bottle had broke, like I said I’m here to cut in. So there you have it Mr Locke”
“You seem to know a lot my friend!” Joseph Monroe added trying to claw back the dregs of his manhood, but he wasn’t really fooling anyone, Cowards don’t change, well other than shades of yellow Rogers mocked.
“Yeah Monroe’s right” Stackpole Locke added with both a hint of interest and caution “Maybe seeing as you know so much—tell me what’s the code word?”
“But of course Mr Locke. Where are my manners” he added mildly “Nag and Nagina.”
Joseph leapt to his feet “Nagina!’ he knows it Stackpole. Everyone knows if the house takes you into their deck of cards, like he said they did, well he’d be made to read a literature based classic specific to each job, the title of the book being the codeword for safety and to root out the law. In this case it was ‘Riki-Tiki-Tavi. You know that Kipling one!”
Locke had hoped to catch him out on that one, “Only three members had it Locke, you know that. Lance, me and you. Ross didn’t even know it as he was brought in after.” Joseph added excitedly That book was given to us so we could do stuff like telegrams securely and I guess to confirm the original fronts key three. Stackpole thought annoyed his trap didn’t play.
“So Lance told you did he?” Rogers just nodded calmly.
“So I guess you know about the business too then?”
“Oh you mean the shipping of Jewels in Python’s——” Rogers replied hoping he was on the right track, he needed to fish for more information but couldn’t help but wonder if he had used the right bait.
“Okay” Joseph said “stop with the interrogation, Stackpole he’s on the level.”
“Not a chance” Stackpole spat angrily “this could be a cross. I don’t see how right now. But it could be. Better check him either way.”
Rogers smiled, trying to hide his concern Checked! He wasn’t expecting that not from these two block heads, so instead just smiled and carried on his play. “So friends how do you check me?”
“I’m so glad you asked buddy” Locke replied now sporting an evil grin, looking back at him coldly.
“Lance told me and Monroe more than once about the Yankee snoop at the Bombay end, a badge who was asking far two many questions. I though it might turn into something so I got the House to look into it t be safe. His name was Anthony Rogers. Maybe your on the level, but then again maybe not. So there’s only one thing to do to be sure and that's to let Monroe do his thing. Go on Monroe check his prints. The ones he left on the chair.”
Crap Rogers thought, as Joseph Monroe hurried forward to a filing cabinet returning a moment or two later with a small canister of powder, sprinkling a small amount of the grey powder on the spot his hand had been. “Well pal” Locke said evilly “Our House in Bombay sent me a copy of that Yanks prints over from India. We are taking no chances, not now.”
Rogers lips were now just a thin bloodless line. The green cigarette holder poised firmly between his teeth. Monroe went back to the filing cabinet bring back out two photographs. Which he used to compare the prints on the arm rests.
“Locke they match
Chapter Eleven
Taking out her more lethal gun named ‘The Queens Bite’ she rolled the sleek black chamber, feeling the weight of the gun in her palm. She hated the thought of using The Queens Bite, but this could very well be do or die. Rounding some crates of doll’s heads she vaulted over a pallet of boxed teddy bears and then moved like a cat through the darkness, toward the other side of the ramshackle store room building, they had used as a hide-out. The obvious thing was to get to her man as quick as possible and ignore any other distraction's like the Houses goons. As for finding proof the heroine had found enough in Dunham’s brief case to send them all to the clink. She thought back to what she’d seen all the documents and schemes, but most notably a ledger with every crooked detective, politician, crime boss, enforcer and mob tie. Everything to send them all down as in that ledger alone, the rest was just the icing on the cake. She found the window on the right side of the building easy enough to get to without being seen and listened intently. In her mind she could hear the very ticking of time itself, it was maddening knowing he might die because she wasn’t fast enough. The caped heroine opened her concealed wrist bag taking out a small sleek silver cylinder, that unfolded into a multi-tool, with this handy tool Peggy tried her best to open the window. It was old rusted and stuck, going for the latch to the main window directly from the outside wouldn’t work on a month of Sundays.
What would Jack do she thought, he’d broken into enough places on cases or so he told her.
She couldn't just smash the glass the noise would alert someone. That’s when she saw it, the little window, it was fixed shut by iron fittings but she had a feeling she could break them and get in, she was slim and flexible enough to get the job done. It took her a few goes before she was able to snap the cast iron fittings allowing Peggy to contort her slender body through the small gap, taking a moment to fit her bosom and curvaceous bottom through the now open window. But after a slight twist slid in easily. “Say” she called in a whisper “Is anyone here?”
A slight, muffled masculine groan was the answer, but it sent a quick thrill through Peggy’s soft young frame, and straight to her heart like cupids arrow. At that moment she knew deep down in the very fibre of her being that her fear about him and how worried she had been really been about her strong future husband! It took her a single leap of a tall stack of crates, followed by a short swift leap and bound to swing up to the partition wall’s skylight sill, and gracefully lower herself into the dark silence of the interior room. Then with her right hand she went to the her wrist bag on her left glove and took out a small pencil torch, sliding a thumb over its head letting it flicker to life. Its crisp narrow beam of light probed and cut the darkness until she could see the confines of the room based prison Jack had been thrown into and with another deft probe of the torch she saw the man of her dreams illuminated in the small lights beam. Jack was tightly and heavily bound, a handkerchief over the upper part of his face kept him from seeing a single thing. His mouth was tightly covered with tape. He was injured his wrist broken, what had they done to him, and now he had been tossed into a corner like a bag of garbage or hunk of meat to await torture and most probably death. With a whisper of reassurance. Peggy sank to her knee’s she wanted to rip of her mask and just embrace him and she would in a heartbeat if she didn’t have the
pain of keeping her identity a secret even from him, she’d wanted to tell him since the moment she met him, but didn’t. Back then she told herself it was to protect him. But really it was to protect her. She managed to pull him free of his bindings, thankfully whoever had tied him up, was no good with knots, so it only took minutes with a nail file. Then a moment to remove the tape from his mouth. A silent word of thankfulness seeped from his lips, his tough man facade was gone, he was just a broken man at this very moment in time.
“Doll you took a devil of chance” he whispered grabbing her arm tight to make sure this saviour was real “in coming here like this. Those men messed with me, made me there blasted pathetic mouse to play their stupid game, and then lied to me. Either way I was going to die. So honey I owe my life to you! I’m Jack Malone by the way. I’m a Lieutenant with the police. I was on a case which led me hear and well they got to me mores the pity, but anyway doll face I’m glad to see you and all but who are you anyway?”
Peggy hesitated briefly “No time for introductions now sugar” she snapped trying to stay professional “But I promise doll I’m a friend. We must move fast. It’s all clear out there at the moment, so lets get out of here shall we!”
Abruptly Peggy grabbed Jack’s arm and her hand went to his lips to hush him, as she caught and held her breath. A chair had scraped within the room next door. Now footsteps were coming this way. Her nerves went taut as a hand twisted the door knob and swung the door halfway open, yellow lamplight flowed through the half open door streaming like a wave across the rough floor of the room. Her snub nose automatic bristled viscously, as she aimed at the doorway and waited, as the seconds turned into mini life times.
“Get away from that damn door Martin!” snapped someone who Peggy imagined to be their leader. So the loud mouth’s name was Martin, at least she could now put a name to that broad face, The intruder swung about to face the giver of the command. All the while Peggy’s heart churned madly. Would the posh man ignore the other man, even if it was Henley and enter to discover the queen had paid them a visit and was about to free her prisoner. What mercy might the queen expect at his hands if he did? The queries were answered a moment later when the fellow turned again toward the prison room.
“I’m going to see if our little flat foot that’s all Henley”
Peggy’s trigger finger tightened. Her heart suddenly sinking as the man strode through the doorway.
The following night at the office block’s night elevator man, that housed the Herald of Contentment looked Morgan over coldly. “Who you want up in the third, mister?”
“Just giving the place the once over, you know” Morgan said flashing his badge “Snap it up. I haven’t got all night.”
“Not a soul up on the third floor.”
“That’s why I’m going up. So your taking me or am I doing it myself.” The elevator car started up “not a chance. I best do it, or it’ll be my jobs worth.”
“Don’t sweat it. Everything’s official do I need to show you the papers or you going to take my word for it?” Moments later the elevator door clanged open loudly. As Morgan walked into the hall and swung around the corridor, towards the familiar office door, the oh so familiar pain in Morgan head had returned. Contentment was becoming a real sore blow for Morgan, maybe I should have taken the docs advice after all? He thought as the dull throb in his head began to hurt more. Suddenly he stopped short, ahead of him a light had been suddenly cut. Morgan stood still and listened! But there was no movement, no sound. Or nothing that you’d expect to hear of an office building closed for the night. Morgan was uneasy when no door opened. He balanced Wilkins heavy hand cannon in his left hadn’t and held the keys to the door in his right, so they wouldn’t rattle. On the balls of his feet he moved, towards the agencies door. Still he heard nothing except for the far away roar of the musical district two blocks down.
Morgan tried the key he’d ‘borrowed’, picking the one that showed the most signs of use. The latch of the door opened and he stepped inside swiftly. If there was anyone inside the only target he was going to give them was the business end of his Magnum.
He snaked into a small off shoot of the office that seemed to used as a make-shift cloakroom for the agency’s ‘clientele’. Pressing himself against a wall as tight as possible he snaked his hand around the corner of the wall, to what he hoped was the light switch. It clicked and the office was blanketed in white light. Then came a belly rich female laugh. A distinctive laugh.
“Detective Parish! Smoke why am I not surprised, I was wondering when you’d pop up”
He smiled and swore under his breath, stepping out into the light. Louise was sitting in the office’s former owners would be throne. Her feet cocked upon the desk. There was a pile of letters in one hand and a short barrelled ...... .32 calibre in the other.
“Well blow me down. Imagine meeting you here.” he said dryly. “I phoned the P.W.B as the Lieutenant recommended I did, you being Peggy’s partner and all. Was going to ask you if you wanted in. But seems you were already in, not that I'm surprised from what I’m told your one of the best they got.”
Locke let of a harsh sigh of relief, “I had a hunch if I played the game, went toe to toe with you with small talk. I had a feeling our friend here would leave his prints somewhere. Thank You by the way…, Rogers wasn’t it. Inspector Rogers that’s right.” he smiled to his moronic partner Monroe, who was still trying to process everything.
“So your ‘the’ Rogers the famous Bombay law dog, the inner circle over there warned us about. I knew we catch heat doing this. But—but never you.” Locke’s voice snapped to a pit-bull like snarl.
“Well Bastard, this is your last case. You hear me, your done, through. Who do you think your were dealing with—we work for The House of Games for god-sakes. Rogers you were just a fool, for playing your hand. When you should have just folded.”
Monroe’s confusion had now turned into a nervous excitement, to the point of which had made him begin to tremble. “What we going to do Stackpole?” he asked eagerly. Stackpole Locke just smiled cold and deadpan,
“Well be good host Mr. Monroe that’s what. Show him our pride and joy the snake room, we’ll make him nice and comfortable and then let old girl play with his new toy. But remember Monroe our guest isn’t like any other, so don’t show him the pythons. This is an occasion bring out the Lady herself all forty foot of pure Boa-Constrictor. But be careful Mr. Monroe as we haven't fed her in a few days and she might get, well a tad snappy.”
“I like it Stackpole… then we’ll get the Dragon’s Eye and go on the lamb. The house won’t want us either now, this ship has sunk. Yeah best get out before the House get us and force us to play the game. So really we got no choice but sell and get out fast!”
Stackpole Locke, rose his pistol poised directly at Rogers. “Okay Inspector.” he snarled “Up, keep ahead of me. If you make any sudden moves you’ll get bitten by me rather than the snake!”
Anthony Rogers stood silently. His features were stone, not even a hint of expression to them. He was led out the office by the pair of crooks. Monroe holding him by the arm, Rogers had to admit despite Monroe’s seeming lack of I.Q he had strength in him.
Locke’s automatic jabbing hard into his lower back as they made their downstairs, and into the poor light of the loading bay, where another dark stairwell met them. The short set of stairs, took them into a series of cellar like rooms. All of which Anthony noted weren’t damp at all. The floors also being amazingly clean for a business of this sort. He was led down a short corridor, towards a big metal door, where the two men stopped him. Monroe was given the pistol to hold as Locke unlocked the door.
Rogers took a quick moment to have a look around. In a hope of finding a way out, but all was dark apart from a small sign that was lit by a small bulb above. The sign looked like it read… Bell Room. The sign looked familiar, he’d seen the toy doll depicted on it from somewhere. But right now it escaped him. The door swung open as
Stackpole switched on the light. Bathing everything in a very pale green glow. Rogers was led in as the pair left the large metal door, unlocked and wide open. Anthony stared in astonishment at the room he found himself in. It was vast, it seemed to span the width of the factory above.
In the centre of the room, was what looked to the inspector like a pit, about thirty foot deep. It was lined with tinted two way glass and seemed to be empty with an ornate iron rail surrounded it. At the far end of the glass pit, was a wooden packing crate that was leaning open against the rail.
“a pretty showroom, isn’t it!” Monroe said in a low whisper.
The inspector couldn't couldn't help but gaze at the bottom of pit, fascinated. Locke went to the wall and pulled down on a small lever. The glass partition on one side began to rise, instantly there was a sickening slithery scrape. The macabre head of a huge leathery serpent, slid out of a compartment in the wall. Making it’s way across the pit, shaking the kinks and curls out of its body, now poised with its forking tongue hungrily searching.
“Rogers can you guess what the lady wants… living food.” Locke growled alarmingly. He moved threateningly on Rogers, while Monroe still held the pistol hard into Rogers back. With a lighting blow Anthony Rogers twisted around and cracked Monroe on the side of the jaw with unmatched strength. The punch clipped Monroe cleanly with a resounding crack. Monroe fell lack of potato's. The pistol dropped from his shaking hand as a red welt flamed up in his chin.
Rogers dived for the gun, knowing full well that Locke was behind him. He felt an unsettling blow to the back of his head, as Locke brought down his clenched fist, like a possessed man. The array of wild blows stunned Rogers briefly, putting him on the ground briefly and dazed on his side. He did his best to get back hold of the free pistol. Stackpole Locke though got to it first, he lifted aimed and fired haphazardly. The shot ripping though the inspector’s coat and planting itself firmly in the glass of the deep snake pit.
The Queen and The Viper Page 10
