The Last Cop Out (25 page)

Authors: Mickey Spillane

Tags: #Hard/Boiled/Crime

BOOK: The Last Cop Out

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“What for?”

“He won’t say, that’s what got Lederer boiling. That guy would do anything to dump Burke even though he brought him in in the first place.”

Shelby felt his fingers tighten around the glass and cursed inaudibly. Bill Burke was the only one he really feared. The bastard wouldn’t let go of anything. They gave him something really big to play with and instead he goes right back to the original bit. Not that he was worried. He had covered his tracks completely and the years had completed the job.

“Screw Burke,” he said.

“Don’t play him down.”

Shelby knew Case had more to say and waited for it. “Remember that cop Corrigan?”

“Yeah.”

“Burke’s been talking to him. He’s been back to that pawnshop too.”

“He was there before too, remember? What the hell can he find out after all this time? You think that shylock is going to talk?”

“Burke doesn’t give a shit about squeezing somebody. He’d never make the courtroom.”

“You think Burke would give a damn? Look what he did to Bennie and Colfaco eight years ago. He saved the state plenty of money and they couldn’t prove he tossed them over that rooftop.”

Shelby put his drink down and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, you might have a point there. That guy’s the only weak point. Maybe we ought to get him out of the way.”

“Sure ... and Burke would figure it out right away.”

“Not necessarily. He’s been robbed enough to make it look kosher. This time he gets hit.”

“Don’t stick your neck out, Mark.”

“When I want to order something done, don’t you tell me not to.”

Case finished the rest of his drink with disgust. “Okay, it’s your show for now, but Papa Menes isn’t going to like it.”

“Papa Menes is too busy with his own problems to worry about it.”

The quiet tone of his voice made Case feel uncomfortable and he squirmed in his chair. Shelby had his own kills behind him while he never had been called upon for any direct action. His position in the organization was undercover and so far, good enough so that nobody had ever suspected the liaison between the officialdom of the two governments.

He shrugged his big shoulders and said, “I better call Marty before Shatzi spots any of those cops. You coming over to Brooklyn when we take him?”

“Not if we have to question him, Little Richard.” Shelby grinned at the look of horror on Case’s face. He knew what was going to be done and the thought of it made him sick.

“That’s your job,” Case told him. “I’m just the delivery boy this time.”

“Every time, Little Richard,” Shelby said mockingly. He waited until Case had left, then picked up the phone and dialed Miami. For a full minute he listened, smiling slightly, a callous, bemused glint in his eyes, then said a curt, “Okay,” and hung up.

Papa Menes was having it rough. It wasn’t like the old days any more. The years had piled up on the old man and he just didn’t have it. Those punks would bust him down and if he didn’t fall easily the Big Board would give them an unwilling hand. They didn’t tolerate failure at all, even amongst their own.

And that was why the Big Board had to go too so that when the
Primus Gladatori
took over the helm there would be nobody to stand against him, at least no one who could command the troops. The power would be his alone, the rest would be easy.

Up there in Helga’s apartment, buried in the wax of the sacred candle, were the numbers, facts and details that would make it all simplistically possible. The numbers would open the Swiss accounts, the facts and details gave him the reins of influence over the areas of the establishment where control and corruption was needed. The surplus information, delivered to the proper authorities, would eliminate any opposition who chose to cross him.

There was just one loose end that had to be tied up first. It wasn’t something he could leave to somebody else. This time there would be no slip, no necessity for having to pull out all the stops to squeeze Burke out into the pastures of ineffectiveness. This time he’d walk him into a permanent comer with a six foot drop beneath his feet.

While Marcus Shelby was contemplating the scene with pleasure, another truck was pulling into Miami, approaching from the west. For half the trip the driver had been plagued with engine trouble, but because of the load he carried, he couldn’t trust anyone to make repairs, so he had to do everything himself. It wasn’t that he was a bad mechanic. Trouble was that he didn’t have the right tools and had to make do with crescent wrenches and an old pair of box-end jobs. He wasn’t sure how they had booby trapped the heap to blow and he didn’t want to trigger any mechanism accidentally. The old mill was gradually sputtering to a halt when he got to the area he was told to park it. He got out, walked back two blocks, out over to the highway and spotted an outdoor pay phone. He made the single call Frank Verdun had told him to make and one more to a taxi company. A half hour later he was on an interstate bus heading north and he was able to read the first news in four days. What he saw made him almost choke on his own spit. Verdun was dead and he didn’t have anybody to cover for him now at all. Son of a bitch, he’d have to move faster than he ever did before. When that truck went off ...

For a while it looked as if the rain would stop, then the wind freshened, got a chill to it and got behind the rolling clouds that tumbled overhead in the night. Abrupt flashes of lightning streaked in the darkness and Helen Scanlon watched the reflection in Burke’s eyes. For the past hour he had been so far away from her she couldn’t get through to him at all. Like her father, she thought.

When Bill Long came back from the phone he had tied up the past fifteen minutes, he dragged out his chair, sank into it wearily and passed Burke a sheet of paper. It had a single name on it. “Know him?” Long asked.

“Yeah,” Burke finally said. “Former deputy sheriff. He had to retire when he got shot up. Why?”

“He got shot up again and now he’s retired permanently. It looks like somebody tried to take him and never expected the kind of battle he put up. He knocked off a pair of torpedoes and apparently wounded another who drove off.” The cop paused and studied Burke a few seconds. “He had your card in his pocket.”

Burke didn’t show any emotion at all. “So I’m head security officer at Compat. The guy approached me for a job at home, I gave him my card and told him to apply out at the plant.”

“Gill...”

“What?”

“Shit, nothing, that’s what. What the hell would they cut this guy down for?”

“Knowing me, maybe.”

“There an angle to this, Gill?”

Burke stared back at him, his mouth a tight, hard line. “I hope not, friend.”

“They found his furnished room. He had three oddball automatics in a locked suitcase, all loaded and wrapped as though they were ready for delivery.”

“As far as I know, he still carried a deputy badge. Under his state law those rods could be perfectly legal. Check it out.”

“Maybe I will.”

He had more to say, but the waiter came up to him and said, “Phone for you, Captain.”

“Thanks. Be right back,” he told Burke.

When he left Helen pulled her hand out from under Gill’s palm. “There is an angle to what you told Bill, isn’t there?”

Burke’s eyes barely moved to meet hers. “Oh?”

Helen turned up her hand so he could see the blood oozing from where his thumbnail had dug into her flesh when Long showed him the paper. “Your reaction was immediate and a little painful. It surprised me. I really didn’t think you’d show emotion when it came to the job.”

“He was more of a friend than I explained to Bill. He was the kind of guy you hate to lose.”

“I don’t think you fooled Bill at all.”

“I never try to.”

“Don’t you think cooperation ...”

“Screw cooperation. You start working in committee and everybody concentrates on the same line of thought. I stay diversified.” He stopped and looked up at Bill Long. “Now what?”

The big cop had to lean on the table to keep his hands from shaking. Lines of anger and frustration seemed etched in his face and he had to take a couple of deep breaths before answering. “We had Shatzi holed up. We had the whole fucking area closed off and moved in to nail the crazy bastard and he wasn’t there. We got one corpse with his throat wide open and his belly button almost sliced out and that’s all. Damnit all, Gill ... are these loonies so fucking smart they can ...”

“Who was the dead guy?”

“Marty Stackler. Just a guy who lived there. Worked over in Brooklyn. No record, nothing. He must have walked in on Shatzi and ...”

“Stackler’s a plant, Bill. They keep them all over the place, but they keep them in pairs. He have anybody with him?”

“They said he’s got a cousin....”

“Mack? Mack Ferro or Berro?”

“It’s Ferro. How the hell did you know?”

“Come on, Bill, that’s my old territory.”

“You think Shatzi’s got this Ferro too?”

Burke shook his head. “No, I think Mack’s got Shatzi.”

“How the hell did they get out of there?”

“You’ve forgotten your origins, buddy. Those old tenements are like rat’s nests. They have areas of entry and escape you’d never believe.”

“Maybe you’d know where they were headed too?”

“I might.”

“Burke ...”

Gill let his mouth relax in a hard grin. “Stackler worked at a warehouse in Brooklyn that belonged to the old Statto family. It’s been legit for a long time now, but it’s still available for a holding operation if the mob needs it.”

“Supposing Shatzi...”

“Was that bottle with the Frenchman’s belly button still there?”

“On the table. And the dead guy’s button was half ...”

“They should have hit them together,” Burke told him. “They probably split up and Stackler missed. Shatzi didn’t. His mistake was trying to mutilate the body. That’s when Ferro probably coldcocked him and got him out of there.”

“Hell, what for? Why not hit him right there?”

“They want to speak to him first, Bill. They’re not about to take any chances.”

“Yeah,” Long said. “You coming?”

“No, not on this one, Bill.”

“Look, Lederer ...”

“Screw Lederer. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Then where’re you heading?”

“Right now I’m going home and get my ass out of these wet clothes. After that I may make a few official inquiries and take a few official actions to justify my position on the staff of our great crusader.”

Long gave him one long disgusted look. “You know, I stayed on past my retirement day just to help out. I shoulda said the hell with it.”

Burke waited until he was gone, then tossed a bill on the table and followed him out. For a few minutes he huddled under the canopy until a cruising cab caught his wave, then they got in and Burke gave the driver his address.

Neither he nor Helen said a word until they were inside and while Gill was changing into his other clothes Helen idly flipped on the tape recorder that was built into the base of the phone. An odd voice strained by age came through reciting words that made no sense at all, then a few numbers and finished with a chuckle.

She hit the rewind button and was playing it back again when Gill said, “It’s a code.”

“Important?”

“Could be. Just something I’ve been working on a long time.”

“You’re not going to tell me about it though, are you?”

“Nope.” He finished buttoning his shirt and grinned at her. “Mad?”

Her shoulders made a gentle shrug. “My father did the same thing. He never wanted to worry my mother. Where are we going?”

“To intimidate somebody, sugar, and it isn’t we. It’s just me and I want you to stay right here until I get back.”