1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts (18 page)

He walked with me.

‘I’ll stick around, Dirk,’ he said. ‘That’s number 10 facing us.’

Clam Alley was the worst slum I have ever seen. There were four five-storey blocks. Every window in these blocks was smashed.

The door to number 10 hung drunkenly open on one hinge. I edged into the filthy, stinking lobby, littered with rubbish. Bill followed me.

‘For God’s sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘Surely no one lives in this cesspit.’

Facing me were stairs.

‘Al told me he’s on the top floor,’ I went on.

‘Watch it, Dirk,’ Bill said. ‘Those stairs look rotten. You could break a leg.’

I started up the stairs that creaked as I climbed. The door to the first apartment hung open. It was empty and filthy. I climbed to the second floor. The same empty apartment. The third floor was the same. Whoever had lived in these hovels had gone. Finally, with Bill behind me, I reached the top floor. The stink of the place was stomach turning. Facing me was a door that was closed: the only door in this ghastly building that was closed.

I rapped on the door and was greeted with silence. I rapped again, still silence. I tried the door handle and the door creaked open, I moved cautiously into a small attic room. Bill remained outside, looking through the open doorway.

I’ve seen slums in the Negro quarters in West Miami, but nothing like this dreadful little room. It contained a packing case to serve for a table, two stools and a bed. The litter of past meals, newspapers, and other muck covered the floor. The room was a hellhole of squalor.

Lying on the bed was a man. He lay on sheets that hadn’t been washed in years. The man and the bedding matched the awful squalor of this room.

I moved towards him, paused by his side and stared down at him. He was wearing a pair of filthy, tattered jeans. He was as thin as a skeleton. His matted black hair fell to his shoulders. His beard hid most of his face. At a guess, I thought he was around 35 years of age. He gave off the body stink of a man who hadn’t washed in months.

He seemed to be sleeping.

I hated to touch him, but I took hold of his arm and gave him a violent shake.

‘Hey! Chuck!’ I bawled in my cop voice. ‘Wake up!’

His eyes snapped open and he stared at me, then he swung his spindly legs off the bed onto the floor.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded, his voice husky. He was now sitting upright.

‘I’m a guy with money to spend,’ I said, stepping away from him. ‘I want information from you.’ I took out my wallet and produced two one-hundred dollar bills. ‘These interest you?’

He stared at the bills as if I was showing him all the gold in Fort Knox.

He ran his fingers through his matted hair.

I kept well away. I didn’t want to collect any of his lice.

‘Jesus! I want money!’ he muttered. ‘I need money!’

‘I need information, Chuck. We can do a deal.’

‘What information?’

‘Are you OK? You don’t look it. Can you think straight?’

He sat there for several minutes, staring down at the filthy floor. I could see he was pulling himself together. Then, finally, he looked up and nodded.

‘I sleep a lot,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing for me to do but sleep. When I sleep, I hope I won’t wake up, but I still do. I always wake up and find myself in this goddamn hole. I haven’t the guts to jump into the harbour. At the end of the week, they are coming to knock this rat hole down. I don’t know where I am going. I’ve come to the end of my line, but the goddamn line won’t finish.’

‘Chuck, I want information from you, and I’ll pay two hundred dollars for it.’

‘What do you want to know?’ He regarded me. ‘You ain’t a cop, are you?’

‘No. I want to find Terry Zeigler.’

He sat there, scratching his awful mop of hair while he continued to stare at me.

‘Why?’ he finally asked.

‘That’s not your business, Chuck. I’m offering you two hundred dollars to tell me all you know about Zeigler and where I can find him.’

He grimaced.

‘Is that right? Suppose when I tell you, you spit in my face and walk out with the money?’

I tossed a hundred-dollar bill into his lap.

‘You’ll get it, Chuck, so start talking.’

He fondled the bill.

‘Jesus! I need this,’ he muttered. ‘Know something? I haven’t eaten for three days.’

‘Start talking about Zeigler,’ I barked. ‘Come on, Chuck. The stink in this room is killing me.’

So he started to talk.

I sat on the packing case that served as a table and listened.

He told me he had met Terry at the Dead End Club. They became friends. As he was on the needle himself, he realised that Terry was also hooked. This made a bond between them.

Chuck was trying to promote a moneymaking drug business. He could get the stuff, but he failed in pushing it. He talked to Terry about this who said he was willing to try. During the afternoons, Terry would go out and sell the stuff. He was a big success. He had many contacts with the kids. They all loved his piano playing. Between them, Chuck and Terry, they worked up a flourishing business. Chuck got his supplies from an old Chinese, Terry sold the stuff.

‘It looked super good,’ Chuck said, vigorously scratching his head. ‘We were both making money. I had a nice pad and lived on my own. Women have never interested me. Terry had a good pad and he had Liza, his girlfriend, to live with. Then, just when we thought we were set, we ran into a real problem. As usual, on a Monday, I went to my supplier to get more of the stuff. I walked into his office and found Hula Minsky at the desk.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Do you know Minsky?’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Skip him. So. . .?’

‘The sight of that ape scared the shit out of me,’ Chuck said, and shivered. ‘OK. I’m on the needle and I have no guts. He told me my drug racket was finished. He said to tell my pal to lay off pushing—that was Terry. I was so scared of him, I would have kissed his feet if he had told me to do it.’ Chuck ran his filthy hand through his filthy beard. ‘I knew Terry was with Liza. I telephoned him and told him what Minsky had said. Terry said not to panic, but we would get together. He said he was coming to my pad. He moved in with a couple of suitcases. We talked it out. The supply had dried up. I couldn’t afford to pay for my pad. We both had blown our money away. I told him I would have to move out. He said we must look for another supplier. He didn’t give a shit about Minsky. I told him I was through. You don’t buck an ape like Minsky.

‘Terry said he would find another supplier. I didn’t want anything to do with it. Terry was stubborn. He kept saying the hell with Minsky. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen. I remember him staring at me. He said he had more than fifty kids waiting for their fix. He wasn’t going to let them down. I told him the hell with the kids, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he had got these kids on the needle and he was going to feed their habit. He said he couldn’t do anything else. I gave up. He took off, and he found another Chinese who could supply him. He got the stuff and sold it to the kids. I knew something would happen. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I wouldn’t take any of the money he made. I am so gutless, I just sat in my pad, shivering with fright. This went on for a week, then it happened. I knew it would. I kept warning Terry. He was telling me how much money he had made, and the new supply would be at the end of the week, when the door was kicked open and there was Minsky with two thugs. It happened so fast, I don’t remember what did happen. I was lying on the floor, covering my head with my arms. There were awful noises: bones breaking: horrible noises. That was the end of Terry. I had warned him. Then Minsky kicked me. He said as I had done what he had told me to do, I could forget it. He said I was lucky to be alive. Then the door slammed. I got up and looked around. Terry was gone. I had warned him. You don’t fool around with an ape like Minsky. You want to know where Terry is? My guess is his smashed-up body is in a cement overcoat and at the bottom of the sea. They smashed him to bits and took what was left of him away. There was nothing I could do. I hadn’t any money. I moved into this God-awful room. It was for free. I’m waiting to die. That’s what I want—to die.’

I had no compassion for this derelict creature as I had for Josh Smedley. A mindless jerk who could make a profit selling heroin to kids deserved everything that came to him.

I stood up, dropped the other one hundred-dollar bill on the bed beside him and joined Bill, waiting in the corridor. We made our way cautiously down the rotting staircase and into the fresh, humid air.

As we walked to our car, Bill said, ‘I heard all that. I guess that takes care of Terry. The Thorsens certainly produced a couple of beautiful children.’

I paused to unlock the car door.

‘It happens. The Thorsens weren’t exactly beautiful parents either.’

We got in the car and sat for a long moment in silence, then Bill said, ‘OK. Hank is dead. Angie is locked away. Terry is dead. That leaves Minsky—right?’

‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘Up to now we have had it easy, but Minsky won’t be easy. In a couple of hours, I’ll be seeing Sandra. I want to hear what she has got lined up. Tonight is the night for action.’ I started the car engine. ‘Let’s go home.’

Wally, the maître d of the Three Crab Restaurant welcomed me with his flashing smile.

‘Miss Willis is expecting you, Mr. Wallace. You know your way.’

I nodded, climbed the stairs, knocked on the door and entered.

Sandra was sitting at the table. Before her was a large cocktail shaker and a spare glass.

‘Hi, Dirk!’ she exclaimed. ‘Help yourself,’ and she waved to the cocktail shaker.

I sat down, facing her.

‘Not right now,’ I said, regarding her.

She was in white and her thick black hair fell to her sun-tanned shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled as she stared back at me. I decided she was the most sexy, evil looking woman I hope never to meet again.

‘And—so?’ She poured herself another Martini. ‘What have you to tell me?’

‘J.W. will be short ten thousand dollars on the pickup,’ I said.

She stiffened.

‘How and why?’

Briefly I told her about Angie Thorsen.

‘No more money,’ I concluded. ‘Your people can’t threaten a woman in a mental clinic.’

She leaned back in her chair and released a hard, metallic laugh.

‘This will topple J.W. The organisation will fold him up and replace him.’

‘I don’t give a goddamn about J.W.,’ I said. ‘I’m only interested in Minsky.’

‘Yes.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve been checking. He’s a rat who knows how to take care of himself. I wanted to get him to myself and kill him by inches to repay the death of my father, but this now is not possible. When he moves, he has bodyguards. There is only one way to fix Minsky. I have an automatic gun. I’m going to rip his filthy guts out with bullets. It’s the best I can do.’

I shook my head.

‘No. I don’t like it. It is suicidal. You don’t imagine his bodyguards will let you get away with this. You kill him. OK, I can see you can take him by surprise, but the bodyguards are certain to kill you.’

She gave me her evil looking smile.

‘No, Dirk. They won’t dare touch me. Every member of the organisation knows me or knows of me. They know I am J.W.’s right hand. J.W. is in New York. He will be returning tomorrow night. When he hears I have killed Minsky he will turn his thumb down, but by then I will be a long way out of his reach. I’ve already packed. As soon as I have fixed Minsky, I take off. I’ll get lost, and the organisation won’t find me. You don’t have to worry about me. If there is one thing I can do well, it is to look after myself.’

Looking at her stone hard face and those ruthless eyes, I nodded agreement. If anyone could look after herself, it was Sandra Willis.

‘Dirk,’ she went on, ‘you said you too wanted to get even with Minsky. I want you to finger him for me. You’ve seen him. I haven’t. I don’t want to shoot the wrong man. All you have to do is point him out to me—that’s all.’

I hesitated for a long moment. If I did this, it would make me an accessory to murder.

Then I thought of Suzy. This brutal sonofabitch who had sprayed acid in her face had to be fixed.

‘No problem, Sandra,’ I said.

‘The new drop is now Fu Chang’s restaurant.’ Sandra said. ‘Minksy will be arriving to collect the loot around three in the morning. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll be in my car. I want you to be there. We’ll be there at two. So, OK, we will have a wait, but he just might be early. You finger him for me, and that’s all I want. I’ll handle the rest of it. OK?’

I got to my feet.

‘I’ll be there,’ I said. ‘I only hope your thinking is right.’

She picked up the cocktail shaker and poured herself another Martini.

‘My thinking is always right, Dirk,’ she said. ‘See you at two tonight. I’ll be in a Mercedes. I’ll be parked by the restaurant. All you have to do is tell me which is Minsky. OK?’

‘I read you,’ I said, and left her.

I joined Bill in the car.

‘Fu Chang’s restaurant?’ I asked as I slid into the passenger’s seat.

Bill snorted.

‘On its way out and fast. It’s a corner building on the east side of the waterfront. It started well, then Fu Chang, who must be shoving 90, lost his grip. Why the question?’

‘That’s the new drop.’ I went on to tell him of my talk with Sandra. ‘That’s the setup, Bill,’ I concluded. ‘At two o’clock this morning, we park as close as we can to Fu Chang’s joint. Sandra will be there in a Mercedes. I’ll join her. When Minsky arrives, I’ll finger him for her, then she blows him away. You stay put. If this works, she’ll take off, and we’ll go home, but if it doesn’t, we give her covering fire.’

‘If she kills Minsky and gets away, do you think we can go see the colonel and get our jobs back?’ Bill asked. ‘I mean, will you feel you have settled accounts for Suzy?’

I thought for a long moment, then nodded.

‘I guess so. Once I’m sure Minsky is dead, then you and I will go back to work.’

‘Fine. Now, let’s go eat.’ He started the car engine and drove me to Lucino’s special lobster and steak dinner. We ate in silence. Both of us were absorbed in our thoughts. As we ordered coffee, Bill said, ‘Do you think this is going to work?’