Tiger by the Tail

by James Hadley Chase

  Tux was fond of Solly. Besides, Solly was as strong as a bull and as quick as a rattlesnake.

  “He’ll keep his trap shut. You don’t have to worry about him,” he said.

  O’Brien looked at him.

  “If you don’t want to handle it my way, Tux, just say so.” The threat in his voice was unmistakable.

  Tux eyed him, then shrugged.

  “Okay, I’ll manage on my own.”

  “You’d better make a job of it.”

  “I’ll make a job of it.”

  O’Brien got up, opened the cabin door and went into the passage. He walked to Johnny’s cabin, turned the key that was in the lock, pushed open the door and entered.

  Johnny was dozing. He opened his eyes, blinked, then sat up.

  “Hello, Johnny,” O’Brien said quietly.

  He looked at Johnny’s bruised face with satisfaction. It was about time someone pushed this punk around, he thought as he closed the door and leaned against it.

  Johnny eyed him warily.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ve decided to make you a proposition,” O’Brien said.

  “Yeah?” Johnny swung his legs off the bunk. “Well, okay, but it’s going to cost you plenty.”

  O’Brien shook his head.

  “It’s time we had a straight talk, Johnny. You are in no position to dictate terms. You either accept my conditions or you’ll stay here until you change your mind.”

  “What are the conditions?” Johnny asked, touching his bruised face with his finger-tips.

  “You’ll leave here tonight, go to the airport and fly to New York. One of my agents will meet you at the airport and put you on a plane for Paris. Another of my agents will meet you in Paris and take you to an apartment there. You will remain in Paris until I give you permission to leave.”

  “And that will be after you’ve married Gilda, I suppose?” Johnny said with a sneer. “Do you imagine she’ll marry you unless I’m there to give her away?”

  “You will write and tell her you are leaving for Paris tonight, and you won’t be back,” O’Brien said quietly. “She knows you’re in trouble, and she won’t be surprised you are clearing out.”

  “Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?”

  “Need you ask?” O’Brien returned. “You are a damned nuisance. I know what I’m in for taking you on as a brother-in-law. I can do without your company.”

  Johnny laughed.

  “You’re kidding yourself, Sean. If you want Gilda you’ll have to put up with me. I’m not going, so get that idea out of your head. I’m sticking to

  you and Gilda and your dough.”

  O’Brien shrugged.

  “Please yourself. You’ll either go or stay on this boat until you rot. You have no other alternative, and if you think you can escape, try it and see how you get on!”

  Johnny grimaced.

  “I might go if there was some money in it. Is there?”

  “I didn’t expect to get rid of you without it costing me something,” O’Brien said. “I’ll give you ten grand in return for the letter to Gilda and your promise to remain in Paris until I tell you to return.”

  “Ten grand?” Johnny said incredulously. “You’ll have to do better than that. Make it fifty, and it’s a deal.”

  “Twenty-five, but no more.”

  “I’ll close at thirty,” Johnny said, watching O’Brien closely. O’Brien appeared to hesitate, then he shrugged. “Okay: thirty. My agent will give you half in New York and you’ll get the other half in Paris.”

  “You wouldn’t double-cross me, would you, Sean? If I don’t get the money, I’ll come back.”

  “By then the police may be looking for you. You seem to have forgotten you killed a woman last night.”

  “Why shouldn’t I forget it? That’s your headache. I want some money now. How about my air passage?”

  “My agent will take care of that,” O’Brien said glibly. He took out his billfold, counted three hundred dollars on to the table and waved his hand. “There you are: take it.”

  Johnny didn’t need a second invitation. He slid off the bunk, collected the money and put it in his pocket.

  “You must want her, Sean,” he said, grinning. “Brother! You must want her to part with all that dough. I wouldn’t give all that for her or any woman.” O’Brien had to make an effort to hide the fury that was raging inside him.

  “There’s notepaper in that drawer. Write to Gilda and tell her you’re going to Paris and won’t be coming back for some time,” he said curtly

  “Oh, the hell with that!” Johnny said impatiently. “You tell her. Why should I bother to write?”

  “Write to her or the deal’s off!” O’Brien said, his rage sounding in his voice.

  “What are you worrying about?” Johnny asked, suddenly eyeing him suspiciously. “Scared she’ll think you’ve knocked me on the head and dropped me into the river?”

  “Don’t be a fool!” O’Brien was secretly startled that Johnny should have got so near to the truth. “She’s fond of you and she deserves to hear direct from you.”

  “Well, okay, I’ll call her from the airport.”

  “I’m not having you hanging around the airport where a cop might spot you. You’ll write now or the deal’s off.”

  Johnny shrugged.

  “Okay, okay. Shall I tell her how your thug knocked me around? I can’t imagine she’ll be soft and sweet to you if she knew how you’ve been treating me.”

  “Get on with it!” O’Brien snarled, and turned away, his face ugly with suppressed rage.

  Johnny sat down and began to scrawl on a sheet of notepaper. He hummed under his breath, then he tossed the paper over to O’Brien. “There you are,” he said. “Now let’s get off this stinking boat.”

  O’Brien picked up the note, read it, nodded and pointed to an envelope.

  “Address it to her.”

  Johnny obeyed and O’Brien put the note in the envelope, sealed it, and put it in his billfold.

  He was elated. He could now deal with Johnny without making Gilda suspicious.

  “You’re not coming back with me,” he said. “I’m not taking the risk of being seen with you. I’ll take Solly and he can come back with the motorboat for you. And understand, do what I tell you or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Suppose I go first for a change?” Johnny said. “I’ve been on this goddamn boat longer than you have.”

  “Shut your trap!” O’Brien snarled, his face suddenly murderous. “You stinking little rat! I’ve had about enough of you!”

  The expression in his eyes startled Johnny.

  “Take it easy, Sean,” he said uneasily. “I was only kidding.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t like kidders, and you’ll damn well find out just how much I don’t like them before long!”

  O’Brien went out, locked the door after him and went up on deck. He was shaking with rage. Now he had the letter, the sooner Johnny was out of the way the better. He could tell Gilda in a little while that Johnny had been killed in a brawl in Paris. It would never occur to her that he had ordered Johnny’s death.

  Solly stood by the deck rail. As soon as he saw O’Brien he scrambled down into the motorboat.

  Tux joined O’Brien.

  “Go ahead and take him,” O’Brien said, keeping his voice low. “You’re sure you can handle this, Tux? I don’t want any slipup.”

  “That’s okay,” Tux said. “I’ll roll the barrel overboard. There’s plenty of water. It’ll be okay.”

  “When Solly comes back, come over and call me. You’d better tell Solly you took Johnny ashore in the dinghy. I’ll keep him with me for an hour. Will that give you enough time?”

  “Sure,” Tux said indifferently. “I’ll fix him as soon as you’re gone. There’s nothing to it. The barrel’s a big one. He’ll fit in it easily. I have plenty of cement. An hour’s fine.”

  “Don’t use a gun, Tux. Someone may hear it from the waterfront.�
��

  “I’ll use a knife.”

  “Make a job of it,” O’Brien said, crossed the deck arid climbed down into the motorboat.

  Solly cast off, started the engine and sent boat shooting away into the darkness.

  CHAPTER VII

  I

  O’Brien’s and Tux’s voices came clearly to Ken as he clung to the side of the cruiser, but it took several moments before he realized what was about to happen to Johnny.

  They were going to murder Johnny and dump him in the river!

  Ken turned cold.

  With Johnny at the bottom of the river, how could he hope to convince anyone he hadn’t murdered Fay? He had to rescue Johnny get him back to land and hand him over to Adams. That was his only chance of ever proving his innocence.

  But the thought of tackling Tux single-handed turned his mouth dry and made his heart beat violently. Ken didn’t pretend to be a man of action. He knew, too, he wasn’t in any physical shape for a hand-to-hand grapple with Tux. But there was no alternative. He had to rescue Johnny if he was to save himself.

  As he tied his boat to the iron bracket by Johnny’s port-hole, he wondered if it would be safe to attract Johnny’s attention and warn him what he planned to do, but Tux was still somewhere on deck and he decided against the risk of being heard.

  His first move was to get on board. If he could sneak up on Tux and hit him over the head, the rescue would be simple.

  He reached up and caught hold of the bottom rail, then cautiously pulled himself up until his eyes were level with the deck.

  In the shadowy darkness he caught sight of Tux on the far side, outlined against the skyline. He was busy trying to pry off the head of a big cask that stood against the far deck rail, his back turned to Ken.

  His heart hammering, Ken lifted one leg, hooked his foot around the rail

  support and pulled himself up. He shifted his grip, reached for the top rail and swung himself on deck.

  He crouched down on hands and knees, his eyes fixed on Tux’s broad back.

  Tux was making enough noise while hammering a chisel into the head of the cask to cover the slight sounds Ken had made getting on deck.

  Ken watched him. The thirty-foot gap that separated him from, Tux was too wide to risk a rush. Besides, he hadn’t a weapon and he had no intentions of tackling Tux with his fists.

  He decided his only chance against Tux was to combine forces with Johnny. The two of them should be able to handle Tux. He began to creep towards the companion ladder.

  Tux got the head off the cask, straightened and turned suddenly.

  Ken flattened out and lay still, his heart doing a somersault while he watched Tux walk along the deck and disappear behind the bridge house. He came into sight again before Ken could move, carrying a sack of cement on his shoulder. He emptied the cement into the barrel, then he went back for another sack.

  Ken darted across the deck, reached the companion ladder and scrambled down it as Tux reappeared.

  He found himself in a narrow, dimly lit passage. One of the four doors on either side of the passage had a key in the lock. He could hear Tux moving about above him, and guessed he hadn’t much time. He turned the key, pushed open the door and entered the small cabin.

  Johnny was lolling on the bunk. He stared at Ken blankly, then sat up.

  “Who are you?” he said sharply.

  Ken closed the door and leaned against it. He was in such a state of nerves he had difficulty in controlling his breathing.

  “I happened to be near this boat and heard them planning to murder

  you,” he said, his voice shaking. “They’re going to put you in a barrel and drop you in the river.”

  Johnny stiffened.

  “Is this one of O’Brien’s tricks?” he snarled. “You can’t scare me, you fool! Get out I”

  “We haven’t a second to lose! Tux’s getting the barrel ready now,” Ken said. “The two of us can tackle him, but we’ve got to take him by surprise.”

  It suddenly dawned on Johnny that this tall, haggard, frightened man, facing him, wasn’t trying to kid him. He remembered O’Brien’s murderous expression when he had left the cabin. He remembered, too, how persistent O’Brien had been that he should write to Gilda. It would suit O’Brien to be rid of him for good.

  He slid off the bunk, feeling cold sweat on his face.

  “He’s got a gun!” he said. “We haven’t a chance against him.”

  “We’ve got to tackle him,” Ken said sharply. “Come on. We can’t handle him in here.”

  “Give me the key,” Johnny said wildly. “I’ll lock myself in. You go for the police.”

  “Don’t be a fool! He’d break the door in and get to you. We’ve got to handle this ourselves!”

  Ken’s heart sank at the sight of Johnny’s white, twitching face. He wasn’t surprised when Johnny said, “Leave me out of it! I’m not going up there.”

  Any moment now Tux would be down. He had to find a weapon. A quick look around Johnny’s cabin convinced him there was nothing he could use except a rather flimsy chair, so he stepped into the passage and opened the door opposite, groped for the light switch and turned it on.

  The only likely weapon he could see was a half-empty bottle of whisky that stood on the table. He rammed in the cork and picked it up. As he moved back to the door, he heard Tux coming down the companion ladder. There was no time to reach Johnny’s cabin. He snapped up the light switch, and, his heart hammering, he leaned against the wall by the door and waited.

  Tux came along the passage, humming under his breath. Ken caught sight of him through the half-open door. His fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle.

  Johnny had also heard Tux coming and had hastily shut his door.

  Tux paused outside Johnny’s door, attempted to turn the key, but finding it unlocked, he abruptly stopped humming.

  Ken watched him through the crack between the hinges end of the door and the door-post. He held his breath as Tux suddenly jerked out a snubnosed automatic from inside his coat.

  Tux turned the handle and kicked the door wide open.

  Over his shoulder, Ken could see Johnny backed up against the opposite wall, his face waxen.

  “Hello, Johnny,” Tux said softly. “Who unlocked the door?”

  “How do I know?” Johnny said hoarsely, staring at the gun. “Maybe O’Brien forgot to lock it. What does it matter? I’m leaving, anyway.”

  “That’s right,” Tux said, and he slipped the gun back into his hip pocket. “You’re going on a hell of a long journey.”

  Ken began to creep across the passage towards him.

  The boss is sick of you, Johnny, and I don’t blame him,” Tux said. “I’ve got a barrel for you and a snug-fitting cement overcoat.”

  “You wouldn’t do that to me I” Johnny gasped, his eyes bolting out of his head. “O’Brien wouldn’t stand for it! Keep away from me I”

  Ken jumped forward and aimed a violent blow at Tux’s head with the bottle, but Tux was too quick for him. He heard Ken’s movement behind him and the swish of the descending bottle and he ducked sideways.

  The bottle crashed down on his right shoulder, making him stagger. Fragments of glass and whisky exploded over him.

  Cursing, his arm momentarily numbed, Tux spun around.

  More frightened that he had ever been before, Ken swung a wild, hard punch at Tux’s head, but Tux slipped the punch and caught Ken under the heart with a jarring left jab that staggered him.

  Johnny made a rush for the door, but Tux kicked out, catching Johnny above the knee, bringing him down.

  Before Tux could get his eyes back on Ken, Ken had jumped in close and grabbed his arms. It was like catching hold of a gorilla. Tux threw him off with a heave of his massive shoulders. He jumped away and set his back against the cabin wall.

  Johnny scrambled up and backed away while Ken stood by the door, staring at Tux.

  “So you’ve found a pal,” Tux said, his small eyes g
leaming viciously. “Well, okay, the barrel’s big enough to take you both.” His hand whipped behind him and reappeared holding a short stabbing knife. “Who’s first?”

  Both Ken and Johnny recoiled at the sight of the knife and Tux grinned. He began to edge forward.

  Ken snatched up the chair and thrust it at Tux. One of the legs narrowly missed Tux’s face as he ducked under it, and he cursed; catching hold of the chair leg with his left hand, he tried to pull Ken on to the knife blade.

  He was too strong for Ken, and to prevent himself being pulled forward, Ken had to let go of the chair.

  Tux tossed the chair away and darted forward. Ken hit out blindly, and his fist crashed into Tux’s face as the knife flashed.

  Ken had no idea how he avoided the thrust. He felt the blade cut into his coat and he twisted sideways. He fell against Tux, grabbed hold of Tux’s knife wrist with both hands and threw his whole weight on Tux’s arm. “Get him!” he shouted frantically to Johnny, who, instead of going to Ken’s help, tried to reach the door. As he shoved past the struggling men, Tux grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and pinned him against the wall.

  It was as much as Ken could do to control Tux’s right arm. He hung on, his Angers squeezing Tux’s fingers against the knife handle, trying to make him drop it.

  Tux hooked his leg around Ken’s, heaved and upset Ken, sending him sprawling on the floor. He tried to hang on to Tux’s wrist, but the fall broke his hold.

  Tux swung around on Johnny and again the knife flashed, but in falling, Ken had grabbed hold of Tux’s trousers cuff and he jerked with all his strength, bringing Tux over backwards on top of him.

  Johnny kicked violently at Tux’s head. The toe of his shoe smashed against Tux’s temple, and for a second or so Tux went limp, the knife falling from his hand.

  Ken grabbed the knife and threw it across the room, shoved Tux away from him and scrambled up on hands and knees.

  Tux was up at the same time. Blood ran down his face from a cut on the temple where Johnny had kicked him. His face was convulsed with murderous rage.

  Before Ken could get out of the way, Tux belted him in the face with a half-arm punch that sent Ken over on his back, but Johnny had snatched up the chair and crashed it down on Tux’s head and shoulders.