“I don’t know,” I said uneasily. “I wish I knew what has happened to Ben. It’s not his fight. If they’ve hurt him…”
Clair’s grip on my arm tightened. “Please don’t do anything rash—”
“I won’t, but I’m getting tired of letting these two roam around as if this is their home,” I said. “I’m going into the front room. Maybe we’ll see something from there.”
She went with me. As we reached the lobby, a wild scream rang out. The sound came from the front of the house.
I darted forward, but Clair hung on to me.
“It’s a trap,” she said- “Wait… listen…”
I paused.
A car engine suddenly roared into life, gears clashed, tyres screeched on the driveway.
I darted into the sitting-room, lifted the curtains, peered out.
The Plymouth sedan was roaring down the driveway. It turned as it reached the highway, belted away into the night.
Lois Spence was lying on the concrete by the air towers.
I jumped to the front door.
“Wait,” I said to Clair, threw off her restraining hand, opened the door.
“No!” she cried. “Don’t!”
I slipped out, waved her back, reached Lois as she struggled to rise.
Her face was ghastly with terror. A red-blue mark showed on her face where she had been struck.
“He’s lit a fuse to the gas dump,” she mouthed at me. “Get me out of here! My God! We’ll be blown to hell! The stinking rat double-crossed me! Get me out of here.”
She grabbed at my pyjama jacket. I wrenched free, leaving a strip of material in her hand.
“Clair!” I yelled frantically. “Quick! Come to me! Clair!”
I dashed towards the house, saw Clair in the doorway, yelled to her again.
The whole sky seemed suddenly to split open; a long tongue of orange flame rushed up into the night, and I was conscious of a tremendous noise.
I saw Clair, her hands before her face, her eyes wide with terror. I couldn’t run any more. I was crouching, my hands over my ears when a blast of suffocating air struck me down.
I struggled up on my knees, saw the house sway, crumble, tried to yell, then the ground kicked up, trembled, and another tremendous explosion ripped open the shattered night sky. Blast picked me up and threw me away as the house came down like a pack of cards.
6
The nurse beckoned. I stood up, braced myself, crossed the corridor. “You can go in now,” she said. “You’ll keep her quiet, won’t you? She’s still suffering from shock.”
I tried to say something, but words stuck in my throat. I nodded, went past her through the open doorway.
Clair was lying in the small bed facing me. Her head was a helmet of white bandages; her right hand was bandaged too.
We looked at each other. Her eyes smiled. I went over, stood beside her.
“Hello,” she said. “We made it, darling.”
“We made it all right,” I said, pulling up a chair. “It was a close call, Clair. Too close. I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.” I sat down, took her left hand.
“I’m tough,” she said. “Did they say if I—I—”
“It’ll be all right,” I assured her. “You’re more scorched than burned. You’ll look as lovely as ever when they’re through with you.”
“I wasn’t worrying for myself,” she said. “I didn’t want you to have an ugly wife…”
“Who said I had a pretty one?” I said, kissing her hand. “Someone’s been kidding yon.”
She fondled my hand, stared at me.
“There’s not much left of our home, is there?” she asked in a small voice.
I shook my head. “It’s all gone,” I said, ran my fingers through my hair, smiled at her. “It was a lovely blaze while it lasted.”
Her eyes darkened. “What are you going to do, darling? You won’t get unsettled?”
I patted her hand. “No. I’m going to build again. As soon as you’re better we’ll talk it over. I have ideas. We can build that restaurant of yours. The joint’s well insured. There won’t be any trouble about money. It’ll take a little time, but maybe it’ll turn out to be a good thing in the long run. I never did like the position of the station. I’ll rebuild it facing the road.”
“What happened to them?” she asked, gripping my hand.
I knew that question had been on her mind ever since she had recovered consciousness.
“Lois is here,” I said. “She was pretty badly burned. The Doc doesn’t think she’ll get over it.”
She shivered. “You mean she’s going to die?”
I nodded.
“And Bat?”
“Yeah… Bat. Well, they got him. He ran into a police car. There’s nothing to worry about, darling. He’s fixed.”
I bent down, pretended to fiddle with my shoe-lace. I knew if she looked at me now I wouldn’t have been able to have met her eyes, and then she’d have known I was lying. Lois was in the hospital, but Bat was still loose. I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“You mean our troubles are really over?” she asked.
“You bet they are,” I said, straightening. “As soon as you’re well enough to leave here, we’ll start right in again. You’ll like that, won’t you? You’ll be able to have your restaurant, and we’ll make a pile of dough.”
She closed her eyes, relaxed.
“I did so hope you would say that, darling,” she said.
The nurse looked in, beckoned.
“Well, here’s the tyrant again,” I said, getting up. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Take it easy. We have a lot to look forward to.” I kissed her lightly, touched her hand, went out.
There was another nurse waiting in the corridor.
“Miss Spence is asking for you,” she said.
“Okay,” I returned, looked at her. “How’s she making out?”
The nurse shook her head. “She was dreadfully burned,” she said. “I don’t think it will be long now.”
I followed her along the corridor to Lois’s room. A cop paced up and down outside. He nodded to me as I went in.
Lois was lying flat. Her face hadn’t been touched. They had told me that hot oil had flowed over her chest. She looked practically done.
I stood over her, waited.
She looked up, her eyes, dark with pain, searched my face.
“Hello, gambler,” she said- “You had all the luck.”
I didn’t say anything.
She chewed her lip, frowned. “I want to talk to you.”
I pulled up a chair, sat down.
“You’d better take it easy,” I said. “You’ll need all your strength. You’re pretty ill, Lois.”
“I know it,” she said, her mouth twisting. “I’m through. But I wanted to see you before…”
“Okay, go ahead,” I said, waited.
“Men have been my bad luck,” she said, staring at the ceiling. “They all let me down except Juan. I was fond of Juan, Cain. I kind of went crazy when I lost him. But I should have left you alone. Evening things up isn’t my strong suit—not against you, anyway. You’re too lucky, Cain.”
“You haven’t done so badly,” I said. “You blew my home and business to hell. What more do you want?”
She sneered. “But you’re still here, and your girl. Juan isn’t, and I’m finished too.”
“Let’s skip it,” I said. “This won’t get us anywhere.”
“Bat double-crossed me,” she said, spitefully.
“What did you expect? The snake would double-cross his own mother.”
“My fault again,” she said. “I wanted to use him to even things with you, but he thought I’d fallen for him. I ought to have played with him until this was over, but I gave him hell.
How could I fall for a filthy brute like him? I told him so, and he fixed me.” She moved her legs restlessly. “They swear they’ve filled me full of dope, but it hurts—it hurts like hell.”
&
nbsp; I didn’t say anything.
“I taught Bat how to explode the gas dump, rehearsed him for weeks. God! He was dumb. He couldn’t have done it without me. He wanted to shoot you, but I had to be smart. You see, it didn’t work out. I wanted to see you and your girl go up in flames along with your smug little home.”
I looked away. It was no use hating her; she was dying and she’d paid for what she had done.
“You’re not letting Bat get away?” she asked abruptly.
I shook my head. “Where is he ?”
“What’ll you do to him?”
“Shoot or arrest him,” I said. “I don’t care which. One or the other.”
She grimaced, sweat was running down her face. “I wish he could suffer the way I’m suffering,” she said.
“Where is he?”
“He’ll have cleared out of my apartment by now,” she said, frowning. “He’ll go to Little Louis. I think you’ll find him there. He won’t know where to hide. You’d’ve caught him long ago if it hadn’t been for me. He hasn’t any brains.”
“Where’s Little Louis?” I asked impatiently.
She gave me a downtown address in San Francisco.
“Who is he?”
“Just one of the boys,” she said indifferently. “He holes up anyone on the run. Watch your step, Cain. I want you to catch Bat.”
“I’ll catch him,” I said, standing up.
She closed her eyes.
“Well, I don’t look awful,” she said, “that’s something, I guess. I’d hate to die ugly.”
I couldn’t stand the atmosphere any longer.
“So long,” I said.
“Kill him for me, Cain,” she said.
I went.
Waiting for me in the corridor was Tim Duval. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“What did you expect?” he said, shaking hands. “As soon as we read about it, I flew up. All the boys pooled the fare. They wanted to come too, but they couldn’t get away.”
“Am I glad to see you,” I said, slapping him on the back.
“So you should be,” he said, grinning. “Hetty’ll be along soon. She’s coming by train. How’s the kid?”
“Not so bad,” I said. “She’ll be all right in a month or so. It was a close call, Tim.” T scowled at him, added, “I have a job for you.”
He nodded. “I knew it,” he said. “That’s why I came. Bat, eh?”
“Sure,” I said, “only you’re camping outside Clair’s door. So long as I know she’s safe I can get to work. Now don’t argue,” I went on hurriedly as he began to speak. “Bat’s dangerous. He might come here to finish the job. Stick around, Tim. I know Clair will be safe if you’re here. I have things to do.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “And I was planning to get in on a man-hunt.”
I punched him lightly on his chest.
“You watch Clair,” I said. “This man-hunt is going to be between Bat and me.” I led him to Clair’s door. “Not a word about Bat. I’ve told her he’s in jail. Go in and see her for a minute, then get a chair and park outside. I don’t expect to be long.”
I left him before he could protest.
7
The taxi driver slowed, stopped. “This is as far as I can take you, Bud,” he said. “The joint you want is down that alley, if it is the joint you want.”
I got out of the cab, peered down a narrow alley, blocked by two iron posts.
“I guess it is,” I said, gave him half a buck.
“Want me to stick around?” he asked. “It don’t look like your home.”
“It isn’t, but don’t wait,” I said, and walked towards the alley.
It was dark; mist from the sea softened the gaunt outlines of the buildings. The single street lamp made a yellow pool of light on the slimy sidewalk. Not far away a ship’s siren hooted. The sound of moving water against the harbour walls was distinct.
I lit a cigarette, moved on. Little Louis had selected a lonely spot for a home, I thought. The buildings I passed were warehouses, most of them in disuse. The property, the taxi driver had told me, had been condemned and was going to be pulled down. It should have been pulled down long ago.
A half-starved black cat appeared out of the shadows, twisted itself around my legs. I stooped, scratched its head, went on. The cat followed me.
Little Louis’s place was the last building in a row of battered wooden ruins. I flipped my cigarette into a puddle, stood back, looked up at the house. The cat moved delicately towards the puddle, sniffed at the cigarette, howled dismally.
“Some joint, puss,” I said.
The building was a three-storey job; no lights showed, most of the windows had rotten planks nailed across them. It was a proper dump, the kind of building Hollywood favours when creating a chiller atmosphere.
I tried to get round the back of the building, but found it looked on to a kind of reservoir. The stillness and blackness of the water was deceptive. It looked solid.
I went back to the front of the building, tried the front door. It was locked. I prowled around, found a lower window, tried to move it, but it wouldn’t budge. I went to the next window, heaved. It creaked loudly. I cursed the plank, took out my gun, forced the barrel backwards and forwards until the plank broke away from its rusty nails. I made less noise than I expected. I hoped no one had heard the first creak, which had been something.
I worked on the next plank, got rid of it, and was ready to squeeze through. I looked into the room beyond, saw nothing but darkness, heard nothing. I fished out an electric torch from my hip pocket, turned the beam into the room. It was unfurnished, dirty; a rat scurried away from the light.
With my gun in my right fist, I stepped over the sill, down into the room.
The cat jumped up on the sill, peered at me. I shooed it away. It seemed reluctant to leave me, but it went eventually, jumping down into the darkness outside.
A full minute of breathless listening got me nowhere. Holding my gun-arm tight against my side, I began exploring the room. There were footprints in the dust on the floor; a hand-print by the door. The place smelt of decay, bad drains.
I reached the door, turned the handle, pulled the door gently towards me. I peeped into a dingy passage, lit by a naked gas-jet. I listened. Nothing.
Sliding my torch back into my pocket, I edged out of the room into the passage. Another door faced me. To my right was the front door; to my left a flight of stairs. They looked rotten and broken, and there were no banisters. It was some hide-out.
I crept across the passage to the opposite door, put my ear against the panel, listened. After a moment or so I heard feet scrape on the wooden floor.
I wondered if Bat was behind the door. My heart was beating steadily; I wasn’t excited. I had come to kill Bat, and I was going to kill him.
My hand slid over the brass door-knob. I squeezed it, turned slowly. It made no sound as it turned. When it wouldn’t turn any further, I pushed.
I looked into a narrow, dimly lit room full of wooden packing-cases stacked up along the unpapered walls. In the centre of the room was a table and chair. Near the rusty stove stood a truckle bed, covered with a grimy blanket.
Little Louis sat at the table. He had a deck of greasy playing-cards in his hand, and he was laying out a complicated patience game. He raised his head as I stepped into the room.
Little Louis was a hunchback. The complexion of his dried-up face looked as if it had been sand-blasted. His hard little eyes glinted under thick black eyebrows. His shapeless mouth, like a pale pink sausage split in two, hung open.
He stared at me, his right hand, hairy and dirty, edged off the table to his lap.
“Hold it,” I said, lifted the .38.
His mouth tightened, snarled, but his hand crept back on to the table again.
I moved further into the room, closed the door with my heel, advanced.
He watched me, puzzled, suspicious.
“What do you want ?” he ask
ed. His voice was high-pitched, effeminate.
“Get away from the table,” I said, pausing within a few feet of him.
He hesitated, pushed back the wooden box on which he was sitting, stood up. Something fell to the floor off his lap. I glanced down. A broad, squat knife lay at his feet. It looked very sharp, deadly.
“Get back to the wall,” I said, advancing on him.
He retreated, his hands raised to his shoulders. There was no shock of fear in his eyes. As I passed the knife I picked it up, dropped it into my pocket.
“Where’s Bat Thompson?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Who wants him?”
“You’d better talk,” I said. “I’m in a hurry.”
He grinned evilly. “You’ve made a mistake,” he said. “I don’t know any Bat Thompson.”
I edged towards him. “You’d better talk,” I said.
“Who are you? You’re new to the racket, ain’t you? Guys don’t threaten me. I’m everyone’s pal.”
“Not mine,” I said, smacked him across his face with the barrel of my gun.
His head jerked back. A red weal appeared on his harsh skin. His eyes glinted murderously.
“Where’s Bat?” I repeated.
He snarled at me so I hit him again.
“I can keep this up all night,” I told him pleasantly, grinned. “Where’s Bat?”
He pointed to the ceiling. “Top floor; the door facing the stairs.” He began to curse me softly, a mumbling flow of obscenity.
“Alone?” I said, lifting my hand, threatening him.
“Yeah,” he said.
I studied him. He was too dangerous to leave. I decided to provoke him into a fight. It turned out to be a dumb idea.
I nodded, shoved the .38 down the waist-band of my trousers. “Why couldn’t you have said so before?” I asked. “It’d’ve saved you a lot of grief.”
Two terrifying long arms shot out towards me; arms that seemed to stretch like elastic. I thought I was well out of his reach, and was waiting for him to jump me, but the arms came as a surprise. Two hands clamped on my wrists. They felt as if they had been welded to my flesh. He jerked me towards him.
He had twice my strength and the jerk nearly snapped my neck. I cannoned against him, felt his hands whip up to my throat. He was a shade too slow. I got my chin down, so he gripped that; before he could dig his claws into my neck, I sank a punch into his belly with all my weight behind it. He doubled up, snarling, and as I rushed him, he swung his fist, clouted me on the side of the head. It was like being hit with a hammer. I found myself lying on my side, bells ringing in my ears. I twisted over, saw through a red mist the misshapen legs moving towards the door. I grabbed at them, hung on, pulled him down. He fell close, squirmed around and uncorked another sledge-hammer blow. I ducked under it, felt it whizz past my head. My right hand yanked out the .38; holding it in my fist, I punched him in the face with it.
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