Strictly For Cash Part 16
aYou've got to get that money! Don't you understand he'll shoot both of us if you don't go? Take this key and get out!a aOh no,a Hame said. aNot if that's the way she feels about you. She stays here. We'll start from the beginning again.a Around the half-open kitchen door I saw the white cat come in.
aThen let me go,a I said my muscles tightening. aShe means everything to me. I'll come back. You can trust me to come back.a aNo woman's worth a quarter of a million. We'll all go.a The cat brushed against his trouser leg. He hadn't seen it come in, and feeling something against his leg startled him. He looked down with an oath.
I was waiting for that moment. I sprang at him, my right hand grabbing at his gun arm, my left at his throat.
The gun went off with a crash that rattled the windows. Hame staggered back, then went down with me on top of him. I fastened on to his wrist and smashed his gun hand down on the floor. The gun went off again, but it fell from his hand.
For a minute or so we fought like a couple of animals. He was as strong as a bull, and knew every dirty trick in the box. We rolled to and fro, upsetting the furniture, while we punched, kneed and b.u.t.ted each other. It was like getting tangled up with a buzz-saw, trying to hold him.
He got his hands on my throat and began to squeeze. He had a grip like a monkey-wrench, and the air was cut off from my lungs. I dubbed him on the bridge of his nose and flattened it, crashing the back of his head on the floor. For a second or so he was dazed and the strength went out of his hands. I tore his fingers from my throat, twisted clear, crawled up on hands and knees. He was up on his feet a shade after I had straightened up. His face was a snarling mask of blood which poured from his broken nose.
At long range I knew I could take him, but hugged in those iron muscles he could lick me. I had to keep clear of him.
Maybe he had forgotten I was a boxer. He didn't act as if he thought I knew how to fight. He rushed at me, his arms reaching out for my waist, to bring me down into another murderous clawing wrestle on the floor. But I had had enough of that. I slipped to one side and jolted my right in his face. That hurt him, but it didn't stop him. He was tough. It'd take more than a slam in the face to put him down.
He came at me again, and this time I went in at him. We met like two charging bulls. I felt his hands grab my coat front. I grinned into his savage, blood-soaked face, then I brought over the left hook: the same punch that had broken MacCready's jaw, that had floored Waller, that had put paid to the Miami Kid. It landed flush on the side of his jaw, and I felt the jar run up my arm. I didn't care. He was out long before he hit the floor.
Gasping for breath I turned to look for Ginny, but she wasn't there.
aGinny!a I rushed into the pa.s.sage. The front door stood open. Turning, I ran back into the sitting-room and to the window.
I saw her running down the long drive towards the gates. She was staggering as she ran, and she was holding her hands in her face.
I leaned out of the window.
aGinny! Wait for me!a But she didn't look round, although she must have heard me. She kept running, and beyond her, at the gates I saw two prowl cars swing to the kerb. Two cops tumbled out of the first car and started up the drive. She ran slap into them. She was falling as she reached them, and one of them caught her and lowered her to the ground. Two more prowl boys spilled out of the second car and came pounding up the drive.
They looked up and saw me. I was looking at Ginny. There was a tightness in my throat and a sick, empty feeling inside me. I had a premonition I was looking at her for the last time. Then I turned and ran into the kitchen.
Benno lay stiff in death, his fat, vicious face seemed to snarl at me. I jumped over him, climbed into the box elevator and loosened the brake.
Seconds later I was running down the weed-covered path to the back gate. No one fired at me. I jerked open the gate and scrambled into the waiting Packard. I was shooting down the narrow alley that led to the boulevard when I heard police whistles. At least I had a car under me, and a fast car at that.
Where was I to go? The general alarm would be out in a few minutes, and every patrol car would be looking for me.
Who would hide me from the police? I thought of fat Zoe Elsner who ran the Liberty Inn on Bay Street. If I could reach her I might buy a hide-out.
I headed for Bay Street.
Half-way down Lincoln Avenue that runs parallel with Lincoln Beach's main street, I spotted a cop ahead, looking towards me from the sidewalk. He began waving at me. I shoved down the accelerator and the Packard surged forward.
The cop ran out into the street. He had a gun in one hand and a night-stick in the other. The people on the sidewalk stopped to stare. He was a pretty brave cop, but at the very last second he jumped aside. His night-stick came hurtling at me, and instinctively I ducked my head. The stick smashed a jagged hole in the windshield. I heard shooting behind me and felt the thumps of slugs as they made holes in the back panel of the car.
I kept on, switched the car around the corner and came out on to the wide boulevard that runs the length of the promenade and terminates at the gates of the casino.
I wouldn't get far now with a smashed windshield. Already people on the sidewalks were staring at the car as I shot it towards the big underground car-park.
I pulled up behind a line of parked cars at the bottom of a brilliantly lighted ramp. I was out of the car and opening the boot when a white-coated attendant came up. I saw his eyes go to the smashed windshield.
aWhat happened to that?a he asked.
aHit a bird,a I said, hauling out the suitcase. aI'll be back . . .a I saw his eyes light on the bullet holes in the back panel. I closed my fist and smashed it at his jaw. He went down, his head bouncing off the fender.
I looked to right and left. At the far end of the park three white-coated attendants stood around a car, talking. They didn't look my way. There was no one else in the park to pay me any attention. I walked rapidly up the ramp. The suitcase weighed a ton. I wouldn't be able to travel far with this burden hanging at the end of my arm. But I wasn't going to ditch it. With all that money I might still buy my life: without it I was done for.
As I reached the top of the ramp I spotted two prowl cars coasting along the boulevard, and heading in my direction. Across the way a cop stood on the edge of the sidewalk. On the corner, fifty yards farther on, was another cop.
I had to get under cover, and at once. There was no hope now of reaching Liberty Inn.
Within ten yards of the cop opposite me was the imposing entrance of the Lincoln Hotel, a forty-storeyed skysc.r.a.per that dominated the promenade.
I crossed the street with a crowd of sun-worshippers as the traffic lights turned red. I kept in the middle of them, rubbing shoulders with a fat man in a beach wrap and on the other side a blonde in halter and shorts. She looked curiously at me.
The bulk of the crowd were headed for the hotel. I went with them. As I was pushing through the revolving doors I looked back over my shoulder: a mistake. The cop on the sidewalk caught my eye. He stiffened, stared, then started towards me.
I kept pace across the lobby with the blonde in the halter and shorts. She and a couple of tanned lounge lizards got into the elevator. I got in with them.
The starter looked sharply at me.
aTenth,a I said curtly, before he could open his mouth.
The cop came through the revolving doors like a jet-propelled rocket. He was charging towards the elevator as the doors swished to. No one in the elevator had noticed him, except of course, me.
Not so good. In a few minutes the hotel would be teeming with police.
The car stopped on the fifth floor and the two lounge lizards got off: n.o.body got on. That left the starter, the girl and myself.
aTwenty-second, please,a the girl said, and ran her thumb along the length of the halter, just inside.
The starter goggled at her, his eyes shifting to her suntanned legs.
aYes, miss,a he said. He looked at me as he closed the doors. aWhat's your room, mister?a aI'm making a call.a aSorry; against the rules. You have to check at the desk first.a aA little late for that, isn't it?a The blonde was staring at me now. She dug her thumbs into the elastic top of her shorts, pulled it away from her waist and let it snap back again. She seemed full of cute tricks.
aI'll have to take you down, sir,a the starter said, his mind more on the girl's shorts than on me.
aPlease yourself,a I said, shrugging.
The car stopped at the twenty-second floor and the doors swung open. The blonde got off. She began to walk down the long corridor. The starter paused to watch her go. Her behind jiggled as she walked: it seemed to fascinate him.
I tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned my fist connected with his jaw. I hit him so hard I nearly tore his head off his shoulders. He folded down on hands and knees and stretched out. I picked up the suitcase, stepped out of the car and pressed the outside b.u.t.ton, closing the doors. Then I set off down the corridor after the blonde.
I caught up with her as she was putting a key into the lock of a door marked 22/4454. She was opening the door when she be-came aware of me standing behind her. Her eyes popped open and she took a hasty step forward that took her inside the room. I had Benno's .38 in my hand and I touched her naked midriff with it.
aNo screaming,a I said pleasantly, and rode her into the room, closed the door with my heel and set down the suitcase.
aWhat do you want?a she asked, in a strangled voice.
aSit down and take it easy,a I said. aNothing's going to happen to you. The cops are after me, and I am staying here until they go away.a She sat down. She seemed glad to.
I lugged the suitcase to the open window, and looked out. It was a long, long way down to the promenade. Already there was a big crowd gathering outside the hotel. As I looked three prowl cars with wailing sirens came rushing towards the hotel entrance.
aIn ten minutes or so,a I said, turning away from the window, athe cops are going to call on you. Please yourself what you do. I'm wanted for four murders: one more won't make any difference to me, but a lot to you. Tell them you haven't seen me. If you try any tricks you'll get the first bullet. Okay?a She blanched.
I was sorry for her, but I was in such a jam I couldn't afford to pull any punches. I kept by the window. The crowd grew every second. More prowl cars arrived. The cops started to shove the crowd back, leaving a wide s.p.a.ce before the hotel. There must have been three thousand people down there, and their numbers were growing every second.
I heard sounds in the corridor. No cop can walk quietly, and when there are a number of them, they sound like a herd of buffalo moving around.
They were going from room to room as I guessed they would. Well, it was up to the blonde now. If she let me down I was sunk.
aThey'll be here in a minute,a I said, trying to make my voice tough. aYou know what to do,a and I waved the gun at her.
She sat as still as a waxwork; her eyes growing bigger, and her face the colour of old parchment. She didn't look pretty anymore.
Then there came a rap on the door.
For a long moment of time nothing happened. I looked at the blonde and motioned to the door with my gun. She stared at me, horror mounting in her eyes.
The knock came again: louder this time.
aGo ahead,a I whispered, sure now she wasn't going to do it. I was right. She suddenly gave a wailing scream and slid off the chair on to the floor.
aOpen up!a a voice bawled, and a shoulder thudded against the door panel.
chapter thirty-two.
There was no future for me now. Once in their hands, with Hame in charge of the investigation, I was as good as dead. But that didn't worry me. All I could think of right at this moment was the money in the suitcase. If I couldn't have it, then I was determined Hame wasn't going to have it. Nothing else mattered to me now except how to keep that suitcase away from him.
The voice again bawled through the door panels. aOpen up, Farrar! We know you're in there!a Once again a shoulder crashed against the door which creaked, but held.
I went to the window and looked out. Running the whole length of the building below the window was a foot wide ledge Leaning out, I could see the ledge terminated about thirty yards away to my right by a bulging piece of floral carving, overlooking the corner of Roosevelt and Ocean. If I could reach that bulge I would have excellent cover from a shot in the back.
I looked down. Three hundred feet below me the promenade teemed with people, staring up at me. It made me feel a little sick as I looked at the narrowness of the ledge, but it was either that or to be shot down when they broke into the room.
Again the shoulder crashed against the door. I swung my leg over the windowsill and got out on to the ledge. I held on to the framework of the window, groped inside and hauled up the suitcase.
A tremendous roar of excitement came from the crowd below, but I didn't look down. I stood for a second or so, staring straight ahead, my heart hammering and my knees weak. It would have been bad enough to take that walk without the suitcase, but with it, pulling me off balance all the time, it was going to be a nightmare.
Bracing myself, my shoulder rubbing the face of the building, I began to move forward.
I put one foot directly before the other, like a tight-rope walker, not attempting to move fast, and keeping my eyes fixed on the bulging corner stone ahead of me.
I crept past a window, moved on, aware of an urge to look down. I struggled against it, knowing if I did, I was done for.
Ahead of me was another window, then wall s.p.a.ce, then the corner stone. When I was within six feet of the window a man's head appeared. I stopped short, my breath whistling through my clenched teeth.
He was a fair, tanned man in a fawn sports jacket and a bottle-green shirt. He gaped at me, his mouth falling open. Very slowly, so as not to disturb my balance, I slid my right hand into my hip pocket and pulled out Benno's gun.
aMind you don't fall,a the man said in a horrified strangled croak. aHadn't you better come in here?a aGet back and shut the window,a I said, and pointed the gun at him.
He gave a gasp and jerked back from the window. Once again the crowd roared at me.
I started to move forward again. When I reached the window I peered in, the gun pushed forward. The room was empty. The door stood open.
I had twenty feet to go before I reached the shelter of the corner stone. I moved more quickly. Behind me I heard a shout, but I didn't look round. I kept on, expecting to hear a shot and feel a bullet smash into me, but nothing happened.
I reached the corner stone and gripped hold of one of its projections. Even then I wouldn't look down.
For a moment or so I stood there, trying to get my breath looking at the buildings opposite: the windows crammed with staring faces, not more than fifty yards from me.
aGet back you fool!a a man shouted at me. aWhat do you think you're doing?a I put the suitcase down on the ledge behind me. Still holding on to the projection I began to climb around it. A woman screamed. The. roar of the crowd surged up and submerged me in sound. Satisfied I had a good hand and foothold, I reached down and pulled the suitcase to me. Then, clinging on, I lifted it. For perhaps three or four seconds I remained pressed against the projecting corner, my foot wedged into one of the ornate carvings, the fingers of my left hand dug into a creva.s.se of stone, the suitcase dangling from my right hand in s.p.a.ce. Its weight upset my balance, but I managed to hang on while the people at the windows opposite yelled and screamed at me.
I remained like that for some time. Then slowly, inch by inch, I began to edge into the hollow made by the two ornate projections either side of the corner stone. It took time, and once or twice I thought I wasn't going to do it. Without the suitcase it would have been easy, but having to work only with one hand and to counter-balance the drag of the suitcase made it terrifyingly difficult. I got into the hollow without quite knowing how I did it. I had quite a bit more room once I was inside, and no one could get at me either from the right or from the left.
I was so exhausted I could no longer stand upright, and still clinging to the suitcase I sat down, my back firm against the hollow in the stonework, my legs dangling into s.p.a.ce.
For the first time since I had been out on the ledge I looked down.
Roosevelt Boulevard and what I could see of Ocean Boulevard were packed solid with gaping faces. From this height they looked like a white-checkered carpet spread out below me. I could make out the tiny figures of cops and patrolmen trying futilely to clear the street. In the distance a mile-long traffic block hooted and honked. I could see people leaving their cars and making their way on foot to the hotel.
At a guess I had only a few more minutes before the police started to try to rope me or send some courageous harness bull along the ledge to grab me. My time was running out. But I couldn't grumble. At my side I had a quarter of a million dollars. Below me I had some five or six thousand people who were concentrating on me, and me alone. The next move was obvious.
I opened the case and took out a packet of hundred dollar bills. I broke the elastic band and tossed the packet high into the air. The notes broke loose and spun to the ground in a fluttering little cloud.
The crowd below me stared up, watching the bills as they floated down to them. The bills took some time to reach them. A man jumped high in the air to be the first to grab one. Then they realized what I was throwing down to them. A yell went up that seemed to split the air and shake the buildings.
A man leaning out of a window opposite yelled, aHe's throwing money away!a I was working fast now, splitting the packages open and tossing the bills out as fast as I could take them from the suitcase.
The windows opposite began to empty of faces. Those who at one time had the better view were now rushing to the elevators to get them to the street in time to horn in on this rain of money.
Well, I had promised myself if ever I got hold of real money I'd go on the biggest spending bender ever. I was keeping my promise, and I was getting a tremendous bang out of it. Right at this minute I was the most powerful and the most important man on earth.
The scene below defeated imagination. People fought, trampled on each other, screamed, yelled and clawed. Even the cops were flaying with their night-sticks to get their hands on the bills as they floated to the ground. The wind spread them far and wide. I could see people fighting on the beach. I watched a girl cramming crumpled bills down the front of her dress, only to have the dress torn from her by a yelling, greed-crazed old woman, old enough to be the girl's grandmother.
A man with a handful of bills was being pushed against the side of a car while four women beat him with their handbags. A policeman was trying to turn a woman who lay on the sidewalk while she screamed like a train whistle.
I tossed the last of the bills down to them, and then sat back to watch. My breath was coming in great heaving gasps, and I had sweated right through my clothes. I would have gone through all I had gone through to have had those ten-minutes of power all over again.
But the money was gone a" a quarter of a million gone as Della had said it would go: like snow melting in the sun, and now I had nothing to show I had ever owned it. My one supreme moment was over, and it would never be repeated.
No one in the street below was paying any further attention to me. They had forgotten me in their mad, greed-crazed scramble for the money, and they were still fighting and yelling amongst themselves.
My time was running out. Before long the police would organize a means of reaching me. I had two alternatives: I could either give myself up or I could antic.i.p.ate my destiny and slide off the ledge into s.p.a.ce. I was sure there would be no out for me once Hame got his hands on me.