Killer's Town (13 page)

"You, too," said Koy.

Dutch shook his head.

"This is none of my business. We're paying you plenty for protection. Five C's a night, half our loot. So protect us."

"Right," said Frenchy.

Koy's pent-up rage and fear exploded. His face turned red. Dutch should have recognized the danger signs, but didn't.

"I'm staying right here," he said coolly.

"You're right you are, you !" shouted Koy, shooting pointblank at him. Dutch's mouth fell open in surprises, he turned toward Frenchy, then fell to the ground. The other men, starting after Fats, stopped and turned.

"Any more?" shouted Koy, glaring at Frenchy. Frenchy looked at Dutch, lying on the ground. Then at the gun in Koy's hand. He shook his head.

"Move," said Koy. The men walked off, following Fats. Frenchy stepped over the body of Dutch and went after them without a backward glance.

As the men followed Fats through the alley to the cellar door leading to Koy's gun room, they stopped. A man was lying on the ground. Banana, the tough little hood from Chicago. Knocked cold. A Skull Mark on his jaw. All made a dash for the cellar where Fats rapidly passed out weapons.

"Not that one," said Pretty, tossing back a rusty six shooter. "That's mine," he said, reaching for a shiny forty- five automatic. Others were similarly busy, finding their own guns, stocking up on ammunition.

"All okay?" said Fats at last.

They looked at each other, crowded in the damp cellar.

"Where's Frenchy?" someone asked.

"He was right behind me," said Sharp.

Sharp peered out the cellar, then swore. Just outside the door, in the alley, Frenchy was lying on the ground, unconscious, a Skull Mark plainly visible on his jaw. And printed on the wall, next to the cellar door THIRTY MINUTES— with the big Skull Mark in dripping black paint

"That just happened. While we were here getting our guns," said Moogar.

Fats rushed to tell Koy, as the men spread out searching for the unknown.

"Banana and Frenchy—in the alley—another sign on the wall, while I was handing out guns," said Fats haltingly, his big face red and perspiring. Koy nodded and then pointed to another fresh wet sign, just discovered on the sign of the Killer Hilton—THIRTY MINUTES—with the Skull Mark. Wet black paint.

Outside, all the town lights and searchlights were on now as the men, three dozen in all, moved slowly among the buildings, avoiding those places where the lights did not reach, where there were darkness and shadows. Koy stood on the veranda of the inn, a gun in each hand, staring at his hotel sign. The tension was getting to him. It came to a head when a scraggly old man lurched up to him. Matthew Crumb.

Outside Killer's Town, a line of vehicles was parked at a safe distance. Patrol cars, police cars. Police and patrolmen were assigned places at various points near the wall. All were heavily armed. Handguns, automatic rifles, riot guns. The teams mov*d off quietly in the darkness. Each unit carried a walkie-talkie radio. Colonel Weeks and Chief Togando established their command post in the Colonel's car near the big main gates. From there, they could keep in contact with all the teams. All the men, Patrol and police, had been briefed before leaving Mawitaan. "We wait for the signal. We don't enter the place. We wait for them to come out to us," he told them. "Who's giving us the signal?" asked one of the senior police officers. "X will give you the order," said Weeks, not answering specifically.

Now Weeks and Togandc waited. Each was armed. With them, a patrolman and policemen.

"We wait here?" asked Togando. "What makes you think anyone will come out?"

"Just a hunch," said Weeks, not knowing what else to say.

They were suddenly tense as a figure passed inside the gates—paused, then vanished.

"Did he set us?" said Togando.

Their car was behind a clump of bushes, their lights out.

"Not likely," said Colonel Weeks. He was wrong. Matthew Crumb had seen them.

Now, as Koy stood on his veranda, fighting the fear of the unknown that was gradually seizing him, Matthew Crumb approached him.

"Mr. Koy," he said. "I been trying to have a talk with you for some time. About my money."

"Who is this?" growled Koy.

"That old bum, the one that owned this place," said Eagle.

Koy, now close to paranoia, grabbed the old man by his ragged shirt collar.

"Is this the guy who's playing those tricks, trying to scare us out, planting those marks?" he shouted.

Crumb choked and sputtered, held in Koy's tight grip.

"Cut it out," raid Eagle with a half laugh. "That old guy knock out Gutsy and Greasy and all the rest? He couldn't knock out a fly."

"Yeah," said Koy. He shoved the old man so he fell on the veranda floor, then kicked him.

"Get lost," he said.

"I'm going to the police, to the Jungle Patrol," muttered Crumb. "I'll put the law on you. I know where they are."

The word "law" clanged in Koy's head. He pointed his gun at the recumbent Matthew Crumb.

"I'll blow him apart, the filthy old tramp!" he shouted. Eagle grabbed his arm. "Come on, Killer," he said. "Let the old man be."

"Eagle," said Koy, "where's Pilot?"

"In your office."

"Let's get him. We're getting out of here."

"Getting out?" said Eagle as he ran after his boss. Koy explained as they reached his office door.

"We'll fly away for a few hours, until they find the spook. Then we come back. By that time, they'll know they got no other place to go."

"That's not a good idea," said Eagle, the lawyer, slowly, afraid to cross his only client

"We're going," said Koy.

Pilot was sitting on the edge of the couch in the office, his head in his hands. Koy grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head up. There was a distinct Skull Mark on Pilot's jaw. His eyes were still glassy. He groaned and tried weakly to pull away. Koy held him by the hair.

"On your feet, flyboy. We're taking a trip."

Eagle helped him lift up the dazed Pilot.

"Killer, he can't fly like this. He can hardly walk."

"He'll be okay with a little air. Give him a swig of this."

He took a bottle of whiskey from his desk, uncorked it, forced the opening into Pilot's mouth, and poured whiskey into him. Pilot sputtered and choked. Whiskey dribbled down his chin.

"That'll do it," said Koy. "Let's go."

"Wait, Killer. What about all that?" said Eagle, pointing to the safe.

The huge safe, as high as a man, weighing four tons, contained all the loot that had been brought to Killer's Town from the four corners of the earth. Koy's share of the heists, and all the cash, gems, and gold held in safekeeping for the others. A fortune no one, including Koy, knew exactly how much. Koy hesitated. But he was shaking with anxiety, anxious to get away.

"The stuff'll keep. No one's going to get in there. We'll be back in a couple hours. It's safer here. Besides how can we carry it? Let's go."

Walking on either side of the staggering Pilot to support him, they left the inn, and made for the wharf where the plane remained tied up. Other men in the background, hunting the unknown, paid no attention to them. But Moo- gar moved near them. He understood the situation in a

glance.

"Hey, Killer. Are you cutting out on us?" he called.

"Get lost," said Koy.

Undaunted, rifle in hand. Moogar strode up to him.

"You ditch us, the boys won't like that, boss or no boss," said Moogar.

"Yeah. Ask them what they think," said Koy, glancing to the side. Moogar looked inquiringly to the side, where Koy had looked. There was no one there. In that moment, Koy swung the butt end of his heavy automatic, hitting Moogar on the side of his head. Moogar dropped without a sound.

"Since when do I ask the boys what they like?" said Koy, looking at the recumbent Moogar. } j

"Come on, Koy, if we're going, let's go," said Eagle, holding Pilot up. Pilot was starting to move under his own power. Koy grabbed his arm and they moved to the dock.

"Where we going?" he muttered.

"For a ride, flyboy," said Koy.

Lying on the dark roof of the warehouse, the Phantom saw the scene with Moogar, then watched as the three men moved to the plane. Koy, obviously, was making a getaway. Did he know the place was surrounded? Not likely. But he was headed for the plane. On the wharf, Pilot became stubborn.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said thickly.

Koy put the big gun under his nose.

"You're flying us, boy," he said.

"Koy, I can't fly. I'm dizzy. Can't see straight," said Pilot.

"You'll be okay. Just a short trip. Let's move," said Koy.

On the roof, the Phantom aimed his own gun. It's a pity, he thought, but it has to be done. He fired toward the wharf, not at the three men, but at the gas tanks of the amphibian plane. High-octane gas is extremely combustible. Killer Koy's million-dollar beauty blew skyhigh with a tremendous blast, as though hit by a bomb. The three men on the wharf fell to the ground, knocked down by the explosion. Everyone in Killer's Town rushed out into the street as red and yellow flames and black smoke mushroomed into the sky like a miniature atom-bomb explosion. Outside the wall, concealed in the woods, the patrolmen and police jumped to the alert.

"What's going on in there?" asked Chief Togando.

"Wish I knew," said Colonel Weeks. And to himself, he thought, is that the signal?

But it wasn't. The big gates remained closed, locked on the inside by a heavy chain and padlock.

On the wharf, Killer sat on the rough wood staring at the blaze. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

"My beauty, my million-dollar beauty," he sobbed.

Behind him, men were yelling.

'The shot came from up there," Pretty shouted, pointing to the warehouse roof. A dozen men fired their rifles at the roof. Then all was quiet. There was a ladder leaning against the warehouse wall. With a rifle in one hand and his handgun tucked in his belt, Pretty climbed up to the roof. He paused. There, painted crudely on the sheet metal, was the Skull Mark, this time in dripping red paint, with lettering above it

"Hey, guys," he called down. "Here's that skull thing again. Know what it says now? Fifteen minutes left."

Pretty looked around the dark roof, fired a few bullets into shadowy corners, then returned to the ground.

Most of the men in Killer's Town were clustered within fifty yards of the inn, watching Pretty climb down the ladder.

Koy had gotten to his feet and, with a last look back at the burning wreck, he walked away with Eagle.

"Plane's gone. Now what?" said Eagle.

"No way out. Got to find that spook," said Koy.

At the foot of the ladder, Pretty turned to see Moogar staggering toward him.

"What happened? Spook get you, pal?" said Pretty.

Moogar reached Pretty, and sagged, holding onto his shoulder. His head was bleeding.

"Spook—huh—Koy—was trying to make a getaway, in the plane—hit me," said Moogar. He sat down heavily on a box and pressed a handkerchief against his head The men watched as Pretty confronted Koy and Eagle

"You tried to cut out on us, Koy," said Pretty

"So what? This is my town. I do what I want,' said
Koy.
"He tried to ditch us. How about that?" said Pretty, turning to the watching men. They replied with an angry muttering.

"This is my town. If you don't like it, get out. Right now. All of you," Koy shouted, directing the
you
to Pretty who faced him.

"Not likely," said Pretty. "We paid a month's rent. Remember?"

"Why you little !" Koy yelled, doubling up his fist,

but Pretty swung first, hitting Koy hard on the jaw. Koy fell to the cobblestones.

'Tm taking over, you 1" said Pretty, kicking Koy in

the side.

He looked around challengingly, gun in hand. The men looked at him, then at each other. Koy's men were there, the insiders like Fats and Sport, as well as the outsiders, the "guests," like Fingers and Pretty. All were armed. All slowly backed away, weapons held alertly, ready to shoct. Eagle and Sport helped Koy to his feet, half-dragging him No shots were fired until all had found cover. No onj knsW what would happen next. Pretty decided that He fire v a shot at Koy and Eagle who were crouched behind a corner of the warehouse. Koy returned the shct. Then a^ began to fire. It was a free-for-all with bullets going in all directions, Koy's insiders versus the outsiders.