The Day of the Guns (19 page)

I took a long time before I spoke. “You’re a man, buddy.”

“Thanks. Sometimes I wonder.”

“Play your part. You’re important. Some things we can do alone. Some things we can’t. At least you go home at night to a wife and lie in bed safe and sound and it isn’t a bad thing to know you have. Try sweating out one day alone in a mud hut with a native whore so you can get one tiny piece of information or eat chicken heads and snakes to get inside a ritual and nail down a name that belongs to a guy you have to disembowel because he swallowed a piece of paper with an address or phone number written on it. Think of how it is to spray a compound full of people who have archaic weapons wanting to fill your hide with poison darts and watch them fall when even they know they’re out of range, but to stay alive you pump all those bodies full of .45 slugs or Schamuser bullets or occasionally lob a grenade through an open window and watch chunks of arms and legs sail out of the wreckage. Buddy, you’re lucky. You don’t know how lucky. Stay with your chemicals, but when you start thinking, feel what we have to think when the possibilities are that you can be eaten alive by ants or tossed into a sinkhole with a weight tied to your feet and know you’re dead, real dead in a few seconds and there’s no way out.”

Ernie’s smile was pathetic. He’d like to try it, but he didn’t dare. He had a wife at home. “Why don’t you get married?” he asked me.

“Who the hell would have me?”

“A woman.”

“There are only girls and broads left.”

“I hear one time you loved a woman.”

“If you’re really hungry I’ll make you eat that goddamn microscope,” I said.

His eyes went up and down me and at last he got the answer. I could see it go through his analytical mind and come up with the tape all neatly punched and classified. “I’ll stay where I am,” he said. Then he added, “Why don’t you find a broad and get married?”

“Shut up, Ernie.”

“No... no kidding. I heard about you and somebody a long time ago. What happened?”

“I said, shut up.” My voice felt like a rasp in my throat.

“Psycho?” Ernie asked gently.

I turned around, looked at him and smiled. “I’ve killed friends too, Ernie, so lay off me.”

“No, I won’t. You got an itch for a broad. What happened?”

“Nothing happened yet.”

“But it will? You’re in love, sucker.”

“She tried to kill me,” I said.

“Kill her then. What do you have left?”

“I never had anything to start with. I died a long time ago. Now lay off me.”

“I can’t. We’re in the same racket. I need you and you need me. You got a problem... oh hell, I know all about it, Tiger. You had one and you found her again. What now?”

I grinned, my mouth tight and my eyes pulled down into little slits. “Dead,” I said. “She died.”

“Happy landings,” he told me and went back to his microscope.

 

I hopped a cab up to Charlie Corbinet’s apartment, called him from the lobby to make sure he was alone, then went up. It was a small place, almost military in appearance. It functioned as a second office to him with filing cabinets, a large working desk and a rack full of handguns and rifles on the wall.

“Coffee, Tiger?”

“A quick one.”

He poured out two, sat down casually and said, “I just had a call. There has been a triple killing downtown. One happened to be attached to the Russian delegation.”

“How about that.”

“Yes, Tiger, how about that? Care to offer an explanation?”

“No.”

He picked up the coffee cup and looked into it, thought a moment then sipped it. “At this moment the police are a little baffled. The bullets from one gun killed a man named Toomey. They found a good deal of money in the place so the shooting could have been over that.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I didn’t think so. Now, what’s the visit about?”

I pulled out the three thousand-dollar bills I had taken from Minner’s cache and laid them down in front of the Colonel. “Run a check on these serial numbers. See if they are from the same batch as the other one I gave you.”

He fingered the bills, frowned and reached for the phone. He had to go through two other numbers and a fifteen-minute wait before he had his party, then the conversation was brief. He read off the numbers, nodded, said something I didn’t get, then put the phone back.

“You hit it, Tiger.”

“Okay, so that dough was earmarked for the rough stuff. Alexis Minner arranged for that contract kill through somebody else and this is the money that was used in the pay-off. The Reds may start to sound off loud about this but when you slap it down in front of them they’ll cut and run like dogs. My suggestion is to let the papers have it ... spread it all over the front pages.”

“You know better than that. This is still an age of diplomacy,” he said.

“Balls. It’s about time the public was wised up to what these slobs are pulling. They come over here acting like they own us, get privileged enough to commit murder without too much fear of reprisal and then bitch when they’re caught at it. Now I want you to understand something, Colonel... I’m not tied to any stupid rules of diplomatic protocol and convention. I don’t give one hoot in hell what the eggheads in Washington think. I’ve been there when they’ve loused up the situations so badly we had to slink off with our tails between oui legs. Nobody’s going to stop me from doing what I want to do. Either I.A.T.S. or some other agency can make this thing public, or I will. I have a guy standing by who will go down the line on it and if it has to come out that way a lot of the college boys in striped pants will be reaching for their hats.”

“You’re asking for it, you know.”

“Screw it, Colonel. I’m the one who’s a target. They don’t put me up there without realizing the consequences. They got what they wanted... almost. There’s a little more left to do and it won’t take long. There’s still time enough to round the story out and polish it off to suit propaganda needs if they want to play it that way. I’ll give them one day to get ready, no more.”

“It’s incidents like this that can cause a war,” he reminded me.

I finished the coffee and put the cup on the table. “You got it wrong. They can’t afford a blowup. They aren’t that tough. We may seem like we can be pushed easily, but they know that when the chips are down we can wipe them out and nothing will stop us. If we can’t be pushed they’ll back down until they can control things again, but right now we have the ball and it’s about time we ran it a little.”

“Very well. I’ll submit the suggestion. If they don’t agree, I’ll remind them of the alternative. You know the possibilities, don’t you?”

“Sure, so let them try spotting me like they did Vance in L.A. When our own kind play it rough with us we let out all the stops. Martin Grady will have them screaming through their ears again.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve been around, Colonel.”

“And where do you go from here?”

“To find Vidor Churis.”

“The same way you found the others?” A hard smile worked at the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe.”

I sat back and looked at him without really seeing him at all. There was a sharp turn in the picture somewhere and it had been pulling at my mind all night. It was one of those little things that is there without being seen you know can be the crux of the whole affair.

What?

Someplace I had picked up the key then laid it down again without realizing it.

Corbinet said, “Got it yet?” He knew what I was thinking.

I shook my head. “It’ll come. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, maybe it does. If one thing doesn’t show up something else will.”

“Don’t go playing hunches. You can die that way.”

“You can die either way, Colonel.” I got up and put on my hat. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see what they want to do with this angle of attack.” He flapped the three bills against his fingers. “They may want a statement from you.”

“No doubt. It will make nice reading in the papers.”

“In view of the situation Hal Randolph may want to handle it differently. It can be done if it is warranted. In either case you are still on the spot, Tiger. Our Russian friends won’t take this lying down.”

“I’m on their ‘A’ list now,” I grinned, “but there’s a difference this time.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re on mine,” I told him.

 

The ticket window of the
Grenoble Theater
was just opening as I arrived. A half-dozen people were in line, a couple with kids, and I waited until they had gone inside before I shoved my money through the slit. The woman there passed back the ticket and the change without ever looking up, then went back to her evening paper as I walked away.

I took the same seat I had before and sat there with the .45 in my lap under my raincoat and waited. There was no sign of Vidor Churis or his round-mouthed friend. I did the same thing for the second show with the same result, then filed out with the rest.

If Churis was going to make the show he had one more day to do it in otherwise I’d lose a possible contact for three weeks. The previews of coming attractions all were of different language films for that period of time. The only other chance was that Newark Control could come up with another lead and to check it out I called them.

Negative.

I tried Dell on his private line and got the same thing, but he said he would put the word out to expedite matters if possible, then suggested that I take in the special show that night. Something new from Paris, France. If the lady was broad-minded she would enjoy it too.

Saturday night. The loneliest night in the week.

So I called the lady to see if she was broad-minded enough and Gretchen said, “Tiger Mann, I have never, repeat... never, seen anyone who was so offhanded about asking for a date.”

“It’s not that late.”

“Do you know it’s after eleven?”

“I’m a night people.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Causing trouble. Now I’m tired. I’d like to see you. Dell has a new act coming into the
Hall of the Two Sisters
we can catch if you shake it up. That is, if you can take it. His shows get pretty rough.”

She laughed, a pretty sound, full of life. “You talked me into it, Tiger. Will you come to get me?”

“Grab a cab and meet me there. It’ll be quicker.”

“Okay, lover boy. But there are times when I’d like to belt you one.”

It took me ten minutes to get to the
Hall
and Dell was there to meet me. I told him my broad-minded girl would be along shortly and to bring her to the booth. When he had relayed the word to his other doorman he led the way up the steps, down to the end and parted the curtains for me.

I told the Arab waiter to bring a pair of drinks and pointed to the table. “Join me for one, Dell.”

“Certainly, Tiger. We do not often get a chance to drink together, no?”

“Any news?”

“As I said, it is difficult. The man you want is ... elusive. I have dealt with these types before as have you. They don’t frequent public places, preferring to stay in their holes until they are needed.”

“You seem to have the guy pinned down pretty well,” I said.

Dell gave me his usual generous shrug. “It is that I know you better, Tiger. The ones you want are generally of the same sort. They have nearly identical habits. Something in their mind makes them do it.”

“They have to come out once in a while.”

“Yes,” he said, “it is so. There are necessities and peculiarities that make them reveal themselves eventually. I have posted my people and if the one with the stiff finger or the round mouth shows himself, you will know about it immediately.” He raised his drink in a silent toast and finished it.

The waiter came in then, swept the curtains aside and Gretchen Lark stood there, a fitted white trench coat hugging the beautiful curves of her body like a glove. We both stood up and Dell nodded approvingly.

“Ah,” he said, “now you can be alone. The show will start shortly.”

“Come on in, kitten.”

She smiled, unbuckled the coat and tossed it over the back of the chair. The black sheath she had on had an open throat that cut down in a generous V, exposing the cleft of her breasts in a daring sweep you couldn’t take your eyes off.

“You look sexy,” I said.

“I’m supposed to.”

I signaled the waiter for two more drinks and lit her cigarette for her. Across the flame her eyes became serious. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because the last time...” she didn’t finish.

“I’m still here.”

“Did you... do what you had to do?”

“Somewhat.”

Gretchen exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching me intently. “Tiger... I hope it can always be like this for us. I ... don’t know what these things are you do ... I think I prefer not to know. But please be careful.”

“Relax.”

She reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were long and cool and there was a bluish pigment stain on the side of her palm she couldn’t get off.

“How is the picture coming?”

“One more sitting will finish it, but who knows when Mr. Selwick will be back? This will be a busy week-end for him.”

“He ought to be glad to take a break with you.”

She smiled and her teeth showed even and startlingly white. “He is. He’s a dear, you know. Whenever he isn’t feeling well he’ll tell me he’s ready for another sitting.” She giggled then. “It’s a wonder the painting doesn’t show him with a pill in his mouth.”

“Take that crazy smock off and he’ll get a better expression.”

“I don’t think his wife would appreciate it. She’s pretty starchy from what he tells me. Anyway, he just likes to sit there and think. Nobody bothers him, no phones ring and he makes a fine subject. Sometimes he just sleeps.” She squeezed my hand. “When am I going to paint you?”