The Titans (13 page)

The Titans187 The manager backed against the table, whiter than ever: "Believe me, I had nothing to do with what happened! I saw Lamont whispering to the piano player. But I don't know anything else, I swear I-was Jephtha shoved the four-barrel muzzle against the manager's vest: "I hope your memory improves. I'm with the Pinkerton agency." The manager reacted with an even more violent start. The detective's name had a terrifying potency. "Ill ask you again. Where did those men take Lamont?" "Down-was The manager's hand shook as he pointed. "Down to the cellar-I think." "Not to the alley? Not outside?" "For God's sake, I can't be certain! You can see how dark it is back here! As soon as the trouble started, people were running every which way. I think the men went down the stairs. You-you wouldn't-do anything just because I'm not sure-was The little man was on the point of weeping. Jephtha pushed him aside and dashed into the dark. He collided with two of the Zolkos dressed for the street. The acrobats cursed in some unfamiliar European tongue. Jephtha avoided an angry fist and dodged between them. He jumped over three rolled drops laid on the floor. Another hooded gas jet high up on a brick wall shed just enough light to reveal a stairway to the basement At the top step, he hesitated. He wondered what the stage manager would think if he knew the man who had accosted him was nearly as frightened as he had been- In the auditorium, police whistles shrilled again. The sound faded. Jephtha stole down the iron stairs as silently as possible. 188The Detectives

At the bottom he scanned the grimy corridor. To his left a spot of blue gaslight revealed a man leaning beside a closed door. It was the detective with the gray hair. From behind the door Jephtha heard a pulping sound-a hard blow-followed by a moan. The gray-haired detective smiled. All at once Jephtha knew he was rash to try this. A fool; out of his depth. But he still slipped the pepperbox into his pocket and stepped from the shadow at the foot of the stairs. He walked briskly toward the detective. The man straightened up, his hand stabbing under his jacket and staying there. In his pocket Jephtha clutched the butt of Molly's gun. His fingers were slippery with sweat. Behind the door someone struck a second blow. A third. A harsh voice said something Jephtha couldn't understand. Crying out, "another voice blurred the first. Before the detective drew his gun, Jephtha put him on the defensive: "Allen wants you. Right away." The man's small eyes showed confusion. "Allen-?" Jephtha had trouble breathing. His legs shook as he said: "Doesn't the name Major Allen mean anything to you?" "Maybe. But-was Another heavy sound beyond the door. Then the hectoring voice; Jephtha recognized it as Dorn's. On the door, faded white letters spelled the word Properties. "Dorn's prisoner screamed. The gray-haired detective seemed confused by Jephtha's assertive stare. He mumbled the rest of his sentence: "comb I don't know you." The Titans189 Jephtha used the first name that came to mind: "Emerson. Chicago office. You mean to say you're acquainted with every man on the Pinkerton payroll?" The sarcasm made the other man lick his lips. He was none too bright, Jephtha decided. He pressed his advantage: "I'll take over here. The major's outside the theater." The detective glanced at the door, guilty. "But he doesn't know anything about-that is-was "Maybe that's why he wants'you." For a moment Jephtha was certain he'd failed. The man continued to peer at him. Jephtha grabbed his shoulder. The man grunted angrily as Jephtha jerked him away from the wall: "He wants you now, damn it!" The detective moved back, his arm rising threateningly, his fist clenched for striking. "I'm telling you-you'd better step lively or the major's going to be looking for your replacement." Playing the bluff to the limit, he put his back against the door. It was lucky the detective couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating. In the property room, the blows hadn't stopped. La- mont was whimpering. Jephtha caught a snatch of Dorn's voice: "comy rucking traitor, who planned your little performance tonight?" "Will you get moving?" Jephtha's harsh whisper produced a response. With an uncertain look, the detective wheeled and scuttled up the stairs. Jephtha closed his eyes, almost faint. With nerve and a faked air of authority, he'd pulled it off. But the most dangerous part remained. Once the gray-haired detective was out of sight, he checked the revolving hammer of the Sharps. It was ready to fire. He bent over the door latch, lifting it 190The Detectives slowly-slowly and soundlessly-until he was sure it was free. Then he sucked in a breath and kicked the door open. At the sound of the door crashing back, Samuel Dorn whirled. Jephtha saw Dorn's startled face against an eerie background. A short way down an aisle running to the rear of the huge, gloomy prop room, an oil lamp rested on a closed trunk. On either side of the aisle, racks held dozens of dusty costumes. There was theatrical paraphernalia everywhere comgaudy headdresses; a large freestanding mirror; a box of tambourines; another trunk with a yellowed human skull perching on its corner. The old mirror reflected the skull's distorted image. In the center of the aisle and perhaps three feet beyond the lamp, Samuel Dorn had roped Lamont into an imitation regency chair from which the gilt had long ago disappeared. Lamont's head lolled toward his left shoulder. His bruised face bled from the nose, The blood dripped from his chin to the bosom of his dress shirt. Dorn was crouched in front of Lamont but facing the door. On the detective's right hand Jephtha saw metal knuckles, smeared red. He pointed the pepperbox at Dorn: "Don't move," Lamont heard him. Tried to open his eyes. He couldn't He rolled his head to the other side, groaning. Mucus leaked from his nose along with the blood. Dorn's blue eyes bored into Jephtha. "Where the hell did you come from., Reverend? Where's that stupid Muflerr The Titans191 "The man outside? I sent him away. I told him I worked for the Chicago office." Dorn's jaw clenched. "The dumb son of a bitch!" He started toward Jephtha, the brass-knuckled hand rising. Jephtha leveled the pepperbox: "I said stay right there!" Dorn stopped. "Untie him, Dorn. "The hell I will." "You'd better. I don't think you brought Lamont down here on the orders of Major Allen-Pinkerton." The front of Dorn's jacket was marked with Lamont's blood. The lamp threw his huge, crooked shadow over the trunk and the yellow-toothed skull a short way up the aisle behind him. The shadow shifted as he shook his head: "I'll be goddamned if I understand this-unless there really was something behind your trip to Virginia. Are you and this secesh bastard tangled up in what went on upstairs?" "Dorn, you're stupider than a wild hog. I'm down here for one reason. I don't like private policemen who beat people because of their politics. Beat them without authority-was Dorn blinked. Jephtha had hit on the truth. Lamont stirred in the chair as Dorn shouted: "He's an enemy of the government, for Christ's sake! I'm going to find out who planned the show tonight. I'm sure it wasn't just Lamont. For one thing, there were too many Southerners in the audience. That whore Mrs. Greenhow-and a lot more." He tried to sound confident. "I'm doing the job I'm supposed to do." "I still doubt your employer authorized methods like this." The big young man was breathing more regularly now. Standing to his full height; in control. Jephtha's 192The Detectives hand grew slippery on the gun's ivory grips. Dorn was trapped; knew it; might try to get out of the trap any way he could. Finally, with a smug grin, Dorn said: "No, he didn't But he'll be happy to have the information I get from him-was A gesture to the actor; the elongated shadow of Dorn's arm flickered across racks of costumes at the periphery of the light. "And I will get it, Reverend. Soon as I finish with you. Your name's right on the list with Lamont's." Jephtha felt weary. It was foolish to argue with Dorn, The detective could spout platitudes about defending the city and the Union without believing a word. He enjoyed this land of work. And Jephtha's presence threatened him. All the more reason to stop wasting time: "Move back so I can untie him." Dorn's blue eyes glared in the lamplight He grinned suddenly. "Fuck you, Reverend. I doubt you know how to use that gun you've waving around." Coloring, Jephtha leveled the pepperbox. The muzzles aimed at Dorn's breastbone. "Let's find out." Dorn started to snicker. Jephtha's expression cut it short. "Now wait a minute. If you get nervous-was The detective's smile looked sickly all at once. "Hell, I could get hurt pretty bad-was "That's very astute of you, Dorn. You're not quite as dumb as you act." The detective's smile disappeared. "I'm going to untie him," Jephtha repeated. He couldn't risk having Dorn do it "Take three steps backward. But keep facing me." Dorn hesitated. "You hear me? Three steps. Mover The Titans193 The rage in Samuel Darn's eyes was raw and intimidating. He peered into the four muzzles of the Sharps, let out a disgusted breath, and shifted his weight "Slowly," Jephtha warned. Dorn slid his right foot to the rear. Jephtha started forward. Dorn took a second step. Too late, Jephtha noticed the detective's hand close to the prop skull resting on the trunk. Dorn snatched the skull, flung it, ducked just as Jephtha did. Jephtha jerked the trigger. His shot went wild, chunking a wall far back in the darkness. The skull hit the door behind him and broke. Old bone rattled on the plank floor as Dorn launched himself forward, his movements incredibly fast Jephtha was still crouched. The toe of Dorn's boot whipped up and caught him under the chin. His head snapped back. He staggered, jolted with pain. Dorn belly-punched him. First with his right hand, then his left The second punch slammed Jephtha against the wall near the open door. He slid downward. A knee came out of nowhere to crush Jephtha's right wrist against the wall. The pepperbox slipped from his fingers. Dorn kicked him between the legs. Jephtha almost screamed. "Now," Dorn whispered, his perspiring face very close. "Now, you goddamn traitor-now we'll see whether your muscles are as big as your mouth." He shot his right fist at Jephtha's jaw. Jephtha jerked his head aside. Dorn's knuckle-dusters raked his chin. The blow banged his head into the wall a second time. Jephtha started to sag again. Dorn grabbed his coat Hauled him up. Jephtha had a distorted view of Dorn's blue eyes- Murderous. He fought back. Gave Dorn a knee in the genitals. Dorn exhaled hard; warm, stale breath- He brought his right hand up between Dorn's arms- 194The Detectives the detective was still holding him-and struck for Dorn's eyes. Dorn tried to twist away. One of Jephtha's nails nicked his left eyeball. Dorn gasped and let go. Jephtha bowled into the detective with his shoulder. Knocked him off balance. Kicked his leg- Dorn stumbled and fell. His head struck the corner of a trunk. His eyes seemed to glaze. Jephtha dropped on his bellyi with both knees. He hurt. His head rang. His eyes were blurring. He hadn't been in a fight of any consequence since his boyhood in Oregon. But he knew this contest would have only one winner. Just when Jephtha thought his adversary was weakening, Dorn heaved upward. He'd only been pretending. Panting, Jephtha sprawled in the aisle. Dorn jumped up. Aimed a boot at Jephtha's ribs. Jephtha rolled away from it. The miss cost Dorn his balance for a few seconds. Jephtha staggered to his feet Dorn threw another punch. Jephtha ducked. The metaled fist slashed by his ear. For an instant he thought he saw surprise in Dorn's icy eyes- s Dorn's right arm was still extended. Jephtha slammed his left fist into Dorn's throat. The detective gagged, his eyes popping. Jephtha ducked under his flailing arms, raced to the door, scrambled on hands and knees until he found the pepperbox. Behind him, he heard Dorn's pained breathing. A rattle of metal brought Jephtha's head around. Dorn had flung the metal knuckles away. He pulled a clasp knife from his coat. He bit the edge of the blade and tugged the handle. The knife opened. He sidled forward, his boots scraping. He'd lost some of his energy. But he seemed to regain it as he came nearer. His right hand arced over and down, driving the knife point at Jephtha's head- The Titans195 Still on his knees, Jephtha shot him. The small-caliber ball was fired close enough to Dorn to stop him. He screamed, more in outrage than pain. The ball had hit him in the left side, near the ribs. Jephtha clearly saw the burned black hole in Dorn's coat The detective swayed, blinking faster and faster as the wound bled and drained his strength. The knife clattered onto the floor. Still blinking, Dorn peered at Jephtha. His lips worked but no sound came. His right hand twisted the fabric of his coat where the ball had entered. Blood began to ooze between his fingers, shining in the lamplight. When he was finally able to speak, he sounded wheezy-and astonished: "You-you're the-goddamnedest preacher I--ever came up ags-was Dorn's eyes rolled up in his head as the lids closed. He fell across one of the property trunks, his arms dangling down the far side, his back heaving. Further up the aisle, Edward Lamont tried to focus his eyes on the source of the noise. He couldn't. His head still bobbed like a drunken man's. The cuts on his face had clotted. The bruises were already darkening. Shaking, Jephtha thrust the pepperbox in his pocket. He had trouble standing up. He ached. His vision multiplied images. He saw two oil lamps. Then three. He grew uncontrollably dizzy- His legs gave out He struck the floor hard, just as someone came running down the hall. He lay with his cheek against the splintery planks, close to fainting. If Miller had come back to kill him, there was nothing he could do. 196The Detectives IV "comsd his name was Emerson. Emerson from the Chicago office-was "There's no Emerson in Chicago, you idiot!" Jephtha struggled to stay conscious. The dizziness subsided a little. He tried to brace his hands on the floor. The first man exclaimed: "Oh, my God, Dorn's been shot!" "We've got worse trouble than that. Damn!" Jephtha managed to open his eyes. He recognized the angry voice. He struggled to his hands and knees-and was helped to his feet by Allan Pinkerton. Pinkerton snarled at Miller: "I know this man. Kent, are you all right?" Jephtha weaved on his feet. Alternating waves of heat and cold swept over him. Every blow Dorn had struck still hurt like the devil. His breathing slowed. He felt a touch of startled pride. He'd held his own against Dorn. But almost at the price of his life. He started trembling again. "Kent?" Pinkerton repeated. "I-I'm all right." Miller bent over the trunk where the younger man sprawled. "Major Allen, he's bleeding bad-was "Let him We were here to watch. That's all! Whose idea was it to drag that actor down here and beat him?" The gray-haired detective kept plucking at Dorn's coat. "Miller, answer me backslash was Miller straightened up. He'd bloodied his fingers trying to get a look at Dorn's wound. He wiped his hands on his trousers. His reply was what Jephtha expected: The Titans197 "Tarns. He said Lamont could probably tell us whether there's a Southern spy ring operating here in-was "He didn't have to hammer a man half to death to get that information. Any half-wit would guess it We know there are Southern sympathizers all over town." Red-faced, he jerked Miller by the shoulders. "But we have no orders to do anything about it-except observe. You knew that!" Miserable, Miller nodded. Pinkerton let go of him. Sighed loudly. "It's my fault. I know the way Dorn operates. I should have kept him outside. By God, if he recovers, I'll see he never works again. Not for any police department or railroad force in the whole damn country!" After a minute, Pinkerton got control of his temper. Turned to Jephtha, who had sat down on a trunk. He was feeling better, though he'd have welcomed a glass of whiskey to numb the pain. "How did you get involved in this?" Pinkerton asked him. "You know I-was Jephtha wiped his damp forehead. "I was in the audience. I saw Dorn and Miller hustle Lamont off stage. Pretending they were going to protect him. Knowing Dorn, I-let's say I had some doubts about his sincerity. I may not like Southern