by J. T. Edson
‘I bleed for you,’ Alice sniffed.
‘Don’t!’ the man yelped. ‘You’ll likely want me to analyze the bloodstains and I’ve enough work for one day.’
‘Let’s go grab a meal, Brad,’ Alice suggested after the lab man left. ‘All we have so far is negative reports, they can wait until we’ve fed.’
Instead of going straight to the Badge Diner with Alice, Brad excused himself. Collecting his imported M.G. MGB sports car from the civic officials’ parking lot which faced the D.P.S. Building, he drove off towards the main shopping center of the city. At the diner Alice ordered two meals and sat awaiting her partner’s return. Being in a peace officers’ regular haunt, Alice did not lack company while waiting for Brad to return and she answered a number of questions about the hit at Vera Grantley. At last Brad returned and placed a gift-wrapped box before her.
‘Happy birthday, when it comes,’ he said. ‘It’s just what you need.’
Opening the box, Alice found that it contained a .45 Colt Commander automatic pistol and all the necessary accessories.
Ten
Although sure that she could master the scaled-down lighter version of the big Colt Government Model automatic, Alice knew better than wear it for serious duty until she had become acquainted with its working. She thanked Brad, or tried, for he waved aside any comments on his generosity with a remark that he had grown used to her bossing the team and worked on the principle that he would rather have the devil he knew than see her shot through being under-gunned, then have to break in a new team member.
‘So much for sentiment,’ Alice sighed, but felt touched at Brad’s concern for her welfare, unspoken as it had been. ‘I’ll start shooting it in as soon as I have a moment to spare.’ Which would not be during that watch. While eating their meal, Alice and Brad discussed what they would say when interviewed and tried to decide on the sort of questions which might be leveled at them.
On returning to the Office, they learned that the proposed television interview would not now take place until six o’clock that evening, this being considered a peak viewing hour at which their message would reach the maximum number of people. It also meant that Brad and Alice had to stay on at the Office after the end of their watch, but they had become accustomed to working extra hours.
Even so, Alice did not find time to slip down to the basement target range and try out her new weapon. The routine paperwork of the case had to be kept up to date, reports read, and their story given to a rather glamorous young woman from the Public Relations Department’s staff. While the girl clearly found herself attracted by Brad’s virile good looks and powerful physique, she did not allow the fact to interfere with duty and after hearing their story pronounced it suitable for the purpose of riling Colismides. After the P.R. girl had left, a Communications Bureau patrolman arrived with a teleprinter message from Austin. I.C.R.’s fingerprint files had matched those found on the inside of the Pete’s Bar liquor store and confirmed that the man inside had been Mikos Papas.
Shortly before four o’clock, the Night Watch logged on; the Sheriff’s Office working a two-watch Rota, from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon and four until midnight. In the event of one team or more being required after midnight, the G.C.P.D.’s Business Office called deputies out of their beds. Grantley and Melnick did not log on, being under Jack Tragg’s orders to remain at their respective homes in case a further attempt was made to bring off Colismides’ threat.
Four o’clock came and the Day Watch logged off, less such of its officers who still had work to do. Three quarters of an hour later, Jack called Alice and Brad into his office once more.
‘Everything’s set,’ he told the deputies. ‘The girl from P.R. reckons you make such ready liars that you ought to be either working in her department, or on the Mirror.’
‘I think she’s too fat and gets her blonde hair out of a bottle,’ Alice replied. ‘And I’ll hand-scalp the first one to say “Miaow”.’
‘Women,’ snorted Jack.
‘I’ll bet old Great Grandpappy Mark never said it like that,’ grinned Brad, then became serious. ‘Just how much of a threat is it, sir?’
‘Enough for us to give you screening cover when you’re coming to and from the Office and your homes,’ Jack answered. ‘And don’t say you’ll go it alone, Brad. That sort of caper might’ve been all right in your Great Grandpappy Mark’s day, but not now. I’ve requested all local post offices, and in the surrounding counties, to watch for and report immediately if anybody hands in a parcel addressed to either of you here, or to any name at all at your home addresses.’
‘Are postal bombs a possibility?’ asked Alice.
‘I don’t know much about EOKA terrorist methods,’ Jack admitted. ‘The FBI are flying down a member of British Army Intelligence who’s over here on liaison duties at the Pentagon. He served against the EOKA and can fill us in on their methods. Should be in sometime early tomorrow. Until then, we’ll assume that Colismides’ bunch know how to make bombs.’
‘Are the British after him, too?’ Brad inquired.
‘Not that I know of,’ answered Jack. ‘Their present Government seemed to condone the EOKA while in opposition. I can’t see them raising waves by wanting Colismides picked up, now they’re in office.’
‘That’s likely,’ Brad admitted. ‘The officer ought to be able to help us some, though.’
‘Sure. Now come on down to the auditorium and let’s see what’s going on.’
Apparently the Federal Bureau of Investigation, once started, had dug deep into their files and come up with much information about the Colismides gang, flashing it to Texas over the teleprinter network. The Communications patrolman arrived at Jack’s office with a sheet of paper covered in small print.
‘The Feds say that Colismides and his bunch came here from Greece, after they ran out of Cyprus. Worked for the Greek Syndicate as enforcers for a couple of years, then branched out on their own, hitting banks, payrolls, gambling houses,’ Jack told his deputies after reading the report.
‘And the Syndicate let them?’ Brad queried. ‘I thought you worked for them full time, or got retired dead.’
‘So far the Feds haven’t come up with any answer to that one,’ Jack replied. ‘None of the gang’s loot has showed up yet, which could account for their loyalty to Colismides when the law picked him up. They must have getting on for a million bucks stashed away. Only they’ve made the United States too hot to hold them, with all their killings.’
‘Which means they plan to jump the border,’ Alice commented.
‘Sure. Most likely figure it’ll be easier to get out of Mexico than through a U.S. port,’ agreed Jack. ‘Trouble being going across the border and through Mexico without attracting attention.’
‘There’re back ways, if a man knows them,’ Brad pointed out. ‘And a million will buy a heap of knowledge.’
‘That’s true enough,’ drawled Jack. ‘The way I see it, Papas had a meet at the bar in De Silva Avenue, but Ian and Jake scared him off. Now he’s waiting to make a fresh contact.’
‘The question being, where’s he living—in town, or out on the ranges?’ said Alice.
‘If we knew that,’ Jack replied. ‘We’d have him without any trouble.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It’s time we went.’
~*~
‘Then you don’t believe there is any connection between the attempted killing of Mrs. Grantley this morning and the threat issued by Colismides, sheriff?’ asked the television newscaster.
‘None at all, nor do the deputies assigned to the case.’
‘Punk talk!’ Brad spat disgustedly as the cameras turned to him. ‘I never believed that threat from the start. It’s just the raving of a yellow psychopath, hoping to scare off the law.’
‘How do you feel about it, Deputy Fayde?’ the newscaster inquired.
‘So confident that it has no founding, that I have not been taken from the case,’ Alice replied.
‘You see?’ demanded Jack. ‘Even a female officer can be left on the case in safety.’
‘And what is your comment to an editorial in a prominent tabloid, suggesting that Colismides be allowed to leave the country rather than endanger the lives of your officers, sheriff?’
‘I wouldn’t even consider doing such a thing,’ Jack stated, making the first completely truthful statement of the interview. ‘If we once give way to such threats, we establish a precedent that other hoods won’t be slow to follow.’
‘We can safely assume then that you don’t regard the threat of injury to the dependents of the investigating officers as serious?’ the newscaster said.
‘We do not!’ Jack snapped. ‘These officers are going to investigate Mrs. Grantley’s attack. And if it should, which I doubt, prove to be connected with the Colismides’ gang, they will continue to do their duty.’
In the room of a small hotel, a respectable place which would never have knowingly housed a criminal, Mikos Papas watched the newscast with varying emotions. While he decided that the law did not tie him in with the attempted shooting, which was a relief, his hackles rose to hear Colismides’ threat so lightly tossed aside. Angrily clicking off the set, he went to the room’s window and looked out. So far the guide from Mexico had not made a move to contact him and a call to the intermediary who was arranging the meet brought only a comment that the Mexican would come when he could. One thing was for sure. The crossing of the Rio Grande called for a dark night and the moon was approaching its full size. Unless the man arrived that day, it would be a week or more before they dare chance slipping over the border.
Donning his coat, he left the room and walked from the hotel. He never used the telephone in his room, preferring to walk some distance and find a public booth which could not be traced.
At a local drugstore, Papas took up a telephone and dialed a number. Once more he held a conversation in Greek and waited for a reply.
‘Colonel Colismides saw the newscast,’ said the voice at the other end.
‘What’s he want me to do about it?’
‘Nothing yet, except for locating the families of those two deputies in case there’s need to continue Operation Scare-Off.’
‘Huh huh!’ grunted Papas. ‘That all?’
‘Captain Plytas is coming into town to collect fresh provisions, as you say there’s no word from the contact man. He’ll be in town tomorrow afternoon, but there’s no need for you to contact him.’
‘That suits me,’ Papas growled. ‘You tell him to make sure he takes all the precautions.’
‘I’ll do that,’ promised the voice. ‘The Colonel says to leave things stand, as long as the law thinks the hit this morning wasn’t tied in with you. But if those two deputies get too close, Operation Scare-Off starts again.’
‘Colonel!’ spat Papas after he hung up the receiver. ‘There’s one born every minute, thank God.’
With that he took up the receiver again and dialed another number, wanting to start tracing the relatives of Deputies Alice Fayde and Bradford Counter so as to be ready to put Operation Scare-Off into action should it become necessary.
Eleven
‘It always pays to keep in with the press,’ Alice remarked as she and Brad drove away from the official parking lot in Unit S.O. 12. ‘I called a friend on the Gusher City Lightning, and he dug us up the names of three organizers of the EOKA protest march.’
‘And if he hadn’t, we could have logged off watch, gone home and watched The Untouchables,’ drawled Brad.
‘Do you know how to find Macklin Terrace?’ asked the girl.
‘If I don’t, I’ll call a cop.’
Despite his apparent indifference, Brad felt admiration for his partner’s ability to extract information. Alice’s friend on the Lightning, a newspaper which made no pretensions at being intellectual or liberal, had listened to her request for the names and addresses of members of the protest march supporting the EOKA and promised to find them without asking questions—on the condition that she gave his tabloid first crack at anything which came along. Nor did he go back on his word when calling with the list, after having heard flat denials that the Colismides’ crowd was involved. The friend’s promise carried weight, he being the city editor of the paper.
‘Andreas Kartides,’ Alice said, reading the list.
‘I know, I know,’ Brad replied.
The Kartides’ house lay on a pleasant street far different from the sprawling tenements of the Bad Bit. The Evans Hill Division, in which Macklin Terrace was situated, had the lowest crime rate in the city, but for all that Brad opened his jacket and Alice unfastened her bag as they approached the front of the Kartides’ house. If Papas should be living there, he might cut loose as soon as he saw them, or when they announced themselves to be peace officers. Neither wanted any delay in returning his fire if that happened.
A plump, jovial woman opened the door. There was nothing of the newly-arrived immigrant about her and when she spoke, it was without any trace of accent.
‘Mrs. Kartides?’ asked Alice, showing her I.D. wallet.
‘That’s me. Lands sakes! Don’t tell me she’s been complaining about the radio again?’
‘No, ma’am,’ Alice answered. ‘We want to—’
‘We had it checked last time she complained,’ Mrs. Kartides continued indignantly. ‘That radio doesn’t cause any interference on the television sets. Some folk just won’t let a boy have a hobby in peace. When he used his air-pistol in the garden she complained. Now he’s got something that keeps him in the house and she still isn’t satisfied. What does she want, that he should go out and join a street gang like her nephew?’
‘We’re here to see your son,’ Alice said, when the woman stopped for breath.
‘Peter? He’s up in his room. That’s why I thought you’d come.’
‘Peter, ma’am?’ Brad said.
‘You said you wanted to speak with my son.’
‘We thought his name was Andreas,’ Alice pointed out.
‘Andr—You mean Andy? We always call him Andy. He was called Andreas for his grandfather, rest his soul. But why come here? Isn’t Andy at home?’
‘I don’t follow you, ma’am,’ Brad said.
‘Andy’s been married for two years. He lives down on Baxter. Hey, he’s not missing from home, is he?’
‘No,’ Alice smiled reassuringly. ‘We just wanted his help in tracing somebody and this was the only address we had for him. What number on Baxter, please?’
‘127,’ the woman answered, her face still showing anxiety. ‘You’re sure that Andy’s in no trouble, or missing from home?’
‘Should he be?’ Alice inquired innocently.
‘No!’ came the definite reply. ‘Andy’s a good boy, doing real well for himself. He—well, sometimes he entertains and his guests aren’t as quiet as they might be when they leave. But he can’t help that. A man in his work has to mingle. Some folks just can’t stand to see a boy get on.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Alice commiserated, a sure way to win the other’s confidence. ‘I suppose he has to have some of his guests staying over?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Has he any right now?’
‘No. I was there only last night. He and Eileen, that’s his wife, a real good girl and a help to him, they’re getting ready to go on vacation. You’re sure Andy isn’t in any trouble?’
‘None at all,’ Alice repeated. ‘We’re just looking for a friend of his and hope he can give us a lead.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Mrs. Kartides, sounding relieved. ‘You’re from the Missing Persons Bureau.’
‘We do help them now and again,’ agreed Alice. ‘Thank you for your time.’
Brad grinned as he turned from the door. That was quite a partner he had. Not even that wily old master of interrogation, Tom Cord, could have handled Mrs. Kartides any smoother, gaining all the information required without driving its giver into a frenzy of concern, and leaving her
reassured that, whatever business brought the law to her doorstep, it did not directly affect her loved ones.
On reaching the sidewalk, Brad glanced back at the house. A face looked down from one of the bedroom windows. On realizing that Brad saw it, the face withdrew and let the curtains fall back into place. It had been a young face, of that Brad felt sure, a boy in his late teens, the younger son most likely. The one with the radio which caused the neighbors to complain. Brad grinned a little as he turned away from the house. At least a deputy sheriff, unless on one of the Sub-Offices where he acted as local policeman too, did not have to try to settle domestic feuds caused by somebody’s son playing a radio too loud.
‘She’s clean,’ Alice commented as she slid behind the car’s steering wheel.
‘I hope her son is,’ Brad replied. ‘For her sake.’
The visit to Andreas Kartides’ home did not prove a success. While he might have been an idealist and stout protester at college, becoming a junior executive with one of the oil companies had changed his views. Showing an air of quiet superiority at dealing with a couple of people who could do no better for themselves in life’s rat-race than find employment in the Sheriff’s Office, Kartides answered all their questions.
Certainly he had helped organize the protest march. Protesting was the in thing at the time. No, he did not agree with the methods used by the EOKA. He most certainly would not render any assistance to a member of the Colismides’ gang. Did the deputies really believe that Colismides might be in Rockabye County, after giving such a newscast?
After smoothing out that question, Alice tried to learn the names of more members of the march. Kartides could remember only three, two of whom Alice already knew about through her friend on the Lightning. While remembering the names, Kartides could only give one address, and that in El Paso. It appeared that the Young Greeks League, which organized the march, had disbanded through lack of interest after Kartides withdrew his dynamic personality.
