4 IÒve often wondered how Petey Benson got his information. The phone was his friend and the taxis were his ally. He seemed to know nobody, yet knew everybody. Twice in recent years his inside stories blew two administrations out of office and his penetration into a Wall Street operation almost wrecked a bank. Crime wasnÒt his bag, but devious causes were. Breaking down the intricate machinations of the power jockeys brought a glow to his face. We met in front of the Plaza Hotel, then ducked inside to the bar. At this time there were only two others at the far end, immersed in their own business. Petey slid an envelope to me and I pulled out two sheets of handwritten notes and a photostat. Petey asked me, ÓWant a drink?Ô I wanted to read the notes, but said, ÓCC and ginger.Ô What he had scribbled were highlights of Candace AmoryÒs background. Her family was one of those deadly kind that dropped a smoldering genius into the political arena every other generation, spewing out minor luminaries along the way. None of the Amorys ever really made the big time because they were smart enough to stay where the power base could be manipulated. Within her own family Candace Amory was a wild hair up everybodyÒs ass, but seemingly controllable. It was the photostat that laid it all out. Petey had finished his drink, so I pushed mine over to him. ÓWhere did you get this?Ô I asked him. ÓTrade secret.Ô What I had was an essay the Ice Lady had written. It was a statement of fact so direct, so concisely put together that I knew this was an exact timetable that Miss Amory was going to adhere to and fulfill. The young Candace was promising that she would be the district attorney of New York City, thence to the governorship of the state and from there to the presidency of the United States. If she hadnÒt already made it into the DAÒs office and already insinuated herself into a first-class, spectacular news story, I would have said it was just the drivel the young and inexperienced enjoy fantasizing about. But this was real. ÓClue me, Petey. Things like this just donÒt lay around. Where did you dig it up?Ô ÓBuy me another drink.Ô I bought him another drink. ÓYou havenÒt figured it out yet?Ô ÓNo. IÒm a dumb detective.Ô ÓGo to college, Mike?Ô ÓSure I did, why?Ô ÓThey make you do an essay on yourself as part of your admittance application?Ô ÓDamn,Ô I said. ÓThat was pretty sharp, buddy. And they just handed this over to you?Ô Across his fresh drink he said, ÓNo, I stole it. You see, those are things I know how to do. Help any?Ô ÓIt gives me an edge,Ô I told him. ÓYouÒll need more than that if you tangle assholes with that lady.Ô ÓWell, no guts, no glory,Ô I said. I reached in my pocket and dug out some change. ÓI suppose you know her phone number?Ô He said sure and gave it to me, reminding me that it was unlisted. So much for privacy. ÓWhatÒre you calling her for?Ô ÓIÒm going to ask her out to supper.Ô ÓHell, man, itÒs already suppertime. Women donÒt buy that kind of action.Ô ÓThis one might,Ô I said. I went out to a pay phone and called the Ice Lady. She said she had nothing better to do and would meet me at the Four Seasons. I told her she would meet me at the Pub on Fifty-seventh Street since I was buying. She knew better than to argue. I had a date. Petey said, ÓWell?Ô I glanced at my watch. ÓIÒll see her in half an hour.Ô His mouth dropped open. ÓHow did you manage that?Ô ÓTo paraphrase you, old buddy,Ô I told him, Óthat is one of the things I know how to do.Ô What I didnÒt tell him was that I knew sheÒd been sitting there waiting for me to call ever since she put on that show with her titties. The Irishman who ran the Pub gave me a big hello, reserved a table for me in back and set up a Miller Lite on the bar while I waited. I was early because I knew sheÒd be early. Anyone who wanted the presidency had to be early. She smiled coming in the door and I said, ÓGood evening, Miss Amory.Ô ÓHello, Mr. Hammer. Am I in time?Ô ÓRight on the button. Want a drink at the bar or shall we go back to the table?Ô ÓOh, letÒs go to the table. ItÒs been a long day. IÒd rather sit down.Ô I waved toward the rear and let her follow the waiter. The Pub had good Irish class, great corned beef and typical New York customers. It wasnÒt upper crust and the elite choose other places to see or be seen, and from her surreptitious motions I knew Candace Amory was putting it in a niche of its own, adding another check mark on my character sheet. When we sat down I said, ÓItÒs a good address.Ô Puzzled, she looked at me, a cigarette halfway to her lips. ÓWhat?Ô ÓNothing.Ô I pointed to the butt between her fingers. ÓWhy do you smoke?Ô ÓHabit I suppose.Ô Again she seemed puzzled. ÓA mouth like yours doesnÒt need a cigarette in it.Ô Her tongue flicked out and wet her lips. ÓOh? What does it need, Mr. Hammer?Ô I gave her a little smile and her face got red. I got her off the hook nice and easy. ÓHow about a hot corned beef sandwich?Ô For a minute there some of the frost had melted on the Ice Lady, but the confusion only lasted a few moments. At least the first points were mine. She put the cigarette down. A lot of things can get said across a dinner table. The mere fact of eating gives you time to think, to plan, to probe. We each had our own reasons for being there and all the weapons were out in the open. The lady was coolly conscious of the way her dress accentuated the curve of her bosom, showing you just so much, yet letting you know there was so much more to be seen. When sheÒd walked to the table, shrugging the coat off her shoulders, she knew that eyes were watching her, drinking up her catlike grace, taking in sharp breaths at the sensuous rhythm of her walk. Now I had all her weaponry concentrated on me and I was glad I had enough years on me to tell me not to get blindsided like an amateur. ÓTell me, Mr. Hammer ...Ô ÓMike.Ô ÓThen you may call me Candace.Ô ÓNever Candy?Ô ÓNo, never. And I am Candace only socially.Ô ÓWouldnÒt be proper at a board meeting?Ô She smiled. ÓNor in a courtroom.Ô ÓNow what did you want me to tell you?Ô I asked. ÓWhat your motives are in asking me for supper.Ô I took another bite of the corned beef. ÓTo get you to open up and let me in on whatÒs happening. Our Penta guy is getting some pretty high-level attention.Ô ÓDeservedly so.Ô ÓBradley never mentioned the name of the agent who was murdered.Ô ÓNaturally.Ô ÓDo you know?Ô She shook her head. ÓNor do I want to. Dead men are ... dead. The live ones can be made to talk and put on a witness stand. We are looking for a multiple killer now, a torture murderer who has to be stopped before he gets to somebody else.Ô ÓAnd thatÒs what you really wanted to know in the beginning, wasnÒt it, Candace?Ô This time her expression went through a variety of phases before it steadied into a defiant stare. ÓTell me,Ô she said deliberately. ÓHow come IÒm not scared to death to be out alone knowing Penta wanted me? If I was the one he wanted.Ô ÓYou amaze me, Mike. Why arenÒt you?Ô ÓAll of a sudden IÒm on my toes. I donÒt feel like being mugged again. I donÒt like being a target, either, so the first slob who goes to do a heavy on me is going to get a slug up his kiester. Or wherever.Ô ÓWherever sounds better.Ô This time she got into her sandwich. ÓTell me something, Candace, arenÒt you spooked about the way all this is being handled?Ô She kept eating, waiting for an explanation. ÓEverybody is talking to me, inviting me in for open conferences, ostensibly giving me classified information ... everything thatÒs in direct violation of law-enforcement practices.Ô ÓNot necessarily. Witnesses can be treated ... in a friendly fashion.Ô ÓAgain, pardon the language, bullshit. You damn well know that IÒm not anything so far. IÒm an innocent bystander in a murder, a victim in a mugging and a suspect of an indefinable sort at this point. But IÒm something else too, lady. IÒm a guy with a reputation that has to hold the line. IÒm a damn headhunter and I get the feeling every one of you are standing by waiting to see who makes the first move and hoping I can simplify your case with a .45 in PentaÒs nose.Ô She took a ladylike nibble at her sandwich. ÓVery forcefully said.Ô ÓSo why the heavy hitters from the agencies?Ô Once again she timed it nicely, finishing her coffee before she made her decision. ÓMy friend Jerome Coleman was formerly with the FBI.Ô I took a wild shot. ÓHe was one of your instructors at the academy in Norfolk, wasnÒt he?Ô The guess was right and caught her completely off guard. ÓWhy ... yes.Ô Her eyes were asking me a question. ÓJust something I picked up,Ô I said. Her association with the FBI would be public information, but not her friendship with Coleman. ÓGo on.Ô ÓHe was in my office when we got news of the m
urder in your office. The name Penta touched something in his memory and he called Frank Carmody. ThatÒs when the federal agencies came into the picture. Penta was wanted for the murder of their man overseas.Ô ÓThey must have a description of him,Ô I suggested. ÓNot an iota. No prints, no photos, nothing.Ô ÓWhere did all this happen?Ô ÓEngland. Somewhere in England. Outside Manchester, I think.Ô ÓYet they know his name.Ô ÓYes. I donÒt know how.Ô I was getting some ideas, but they would take time to look into. Now I had to let her have her turn. I said, ÓWhat can I do for you?Ô She looked down at the small diamond-studded watch on her wrist. ÓTake me home, for one thing. We can talk on the way.Ô I paid the bill and walked her out of the place, enjoying the envious looks I got. This time her walk was more sedate, but she couldnÒt hide the contours of her body. A cab was at the curb and we got in and she gave the driver her address. We were almost there when I said to her, ÓYou havenÒt answered my question yet, Candace.Ô ÓIÒve been told youÒre very aggressive,Ô she started. ÓSure, IÒm in a tough business.Ô ÓThen tell me ... what do you plan on doing about this ... matter?Ô The lady asked some dramatic questions, all right. The cab pulled up outside her apartment, a uniformed doorman ran up, opened the door and we got out. He said good evening to Candace, barely nodded to me, then seemed to recognize me and nodded again, annoyed because he didnÒt remember my. name. ÓWould you care to come up for a drink?Ô No way IÒd spoil her plan of attack. I said yes, went inside, took the elevator up to the twelfth floor and did the bit of opening the door for her with her own keys. Miss Candace Amory lived like the princess she was. The place was magazine-picture perfect, a miniature New York castle that unlimited money could buy. The damned place even looked comfortable. I think the music started automatically when we walked in, something low and sultry and classical. It was nearly nine thirty and I wondered when RavelÒs Bolero would come on. ÓWhat are you smiling about?Ô ÓAppreciating your house.Ô ÓIs it suitably seductive?Ô ÓFits you well,Ô I said. She laughed, said, ÓI suppose now I should go in and put on something more comfortable. Is that my line?Ô ÓDoesnÒt matter. I can handle buttons and snaps.Ô ÓTouche. Make us a drink while I call my office.Ô I went to the bar and built a pair of highballs. I put them on the coffee table and took a seat in the overstuffed chair across from the matching sofa. I wondered how she would handle this one. She listened to her messages, wrote down some notes, then dialed again. The person she spoke to was the district attorney. She told him sheÒd be home all night, then came over, picked up her drink and eased herself down on the sofa. ÓAfraid of me?Ô ÓNope.Ô I lifted my glass in a toast. ÓCheers.Ô ÓCheers,Ô she said. ÓOnce more. What are your plans?Ô ÓLegally,Ô I told her, ÓI have no position at all. I can contribute knowledge and information to the police department and associated agencies, but I stay hands-off on the case itself.Ô ÓI didnÒt ask you about legalities.Ô My drink tasted good. Smooth. I gave her a little shrug. ÓIÒm a victim seeking redress.Ô ÓBullshit to you too,Ô she said. A grin started slowly, tugging at my mouth. ÓNot too long ago you were about to take my license away.Ô I took another taste of the drink. ÓThis place bugged?Ô ÓNo.Ô ÓDoesnÒt really matter. IÒm glad to tell you. I intend to tumble this Penta guy. I may just take him down or I may take him out altogether. The son of a bitch tried to kill somebody I care a lot about and he laid a load of shit on me with that kill in my office and I donÒt let something like that go by.Ô ÓHow can you find him?Ô ÓWhat did you learn at Norfolk, kid?Ô ÓLegwork, informants, psychological profiles, and on and on.Ô ÓGood for you. Only you forgot the biggest one.Ô ÓWhich?Ô ÓExperience.Ô ÓAnd what is experience?Ô ÓA lot of time being aggressive, stubborn, a target and a damn fool.Ô ÓYou have all that?Ô ÓMore. IÒm smart.Ô She couldnÒt hide the smile. ÓHow smart is that?Ô ÓEnough to tell you what you want to be when you grow up.Ô I knew she was going to say it. ÓWant to bet?Ô ÓSure. What do you want to put up?Ô She walked right into it. ÓOh, you name the terms.Ô I took my time and put away half the drink. ÓIf I lose,Ô I said, ÓIÒll tell you who Penta is.Ô Her eyes narrowed. ÓYou said you didnÒt know ...Ô ÓThat was then.Ô She was on edge now. This was something she had to know and she wasnÒt concerned about losing. Even if I was lying, it still didnÒt matter. ÓAnd if you win?Ô I shrugged casually. ÓYou take off your clothes. Here.Ô All of the Ice LadyÒs emotions were exposed in a flash, the crudity of the suggestion, the daring of the act, the shame of exposure, the desire to do the unthinkable. It was one beautiful expression. But she couldnÒt lose. She said, ÓYouÒre on.Ô I finished the drink and put the glass down. ÓHow many guesses do I get?Ô ÓJust one.Ô ÓFair enough.Ô I leaned back in the chair and looked at her. The music playing was BrahmsÒs Hungarian Dance No. 5. ÓYou plan to be ... no, you intend to be, without a shadow of doubt you know you have to be and will be ...Ô She wasnÒt breathing. She was sitting there with a strange, stark look on her face. Ó... the president of the United States.Ô The back of her hand went to her mouth very slowly. Her eyes were wide, shocked, her lovely mouth opened slightly with astonishment tinged with fear because I was completely inside her mind. ÓNo!Ô I could hardly hear her. ÓItÒs impossible. No one knows. I... IÒve never mentioned it to anyone. Never. You canÒt possibly know this.Ô She got to her feet slowly, putting her glass down before she dropped it. For a moment she almost lost her composure. ÓHow did ... you know?Ô ÓDoesnÒt matter.Ô ÓYes, it does.Ô ÓExperience. I won, didnÒt I?Ô ÓYes.Ô ÓIÒm waiting,Ô I said. ÓYou will never mention this to anyone, never.Ô ÓWhy should I?Ô Her lower lip went between her teeth and she stared at me. She was wondering how sheÒd lost all control of the situation. Her initial plan had gotten out of hand and now she had to put her integrity on the line. The dress was a simple but dramatic arrangement. Her hand went to her chest and found the concealed zipper. She pulled it down quickly, not for effect, but because had she not she wouldnÒt be able to pay her debt at all. My Ice Lady was hurting, but determined. She took a deep breath and I knew what she was going to do next. I said, ÓDonÒt.Ô Her hands held the dress she was about to pull open locked to her breasts. ÓItÒs a debt I owe,Ô she forced out. ÓWrong. It was a dirty trick I pulled.Ô ÓMike ... donÒt lie. What you said was true and no way outside of reading my mind you could have known.Ô ÓZip up, Candace. If I really wanted you naked, I would have gotten you that way myself.Ô ÓThen why did you ... ?Ô ÓI wanted to see if youÒd stick to your word.Ô Her fingers reached for the zipper and drew it up, slowly this time. A tiny feeling of anger showed in the tightness of her mouth, but there was hurt in her eyes. That was something I didnÒt expect to see. ÓYou really donÒt want me, do you?Ô ÓDonÒt fool yourself, honey. I thought about it the first time I saw you and have ever since. You donÒt have to tell me you havenÒt been in the sack with anybody yet ... no woman aching for the presidency in these days had better take that chance. That much I know. But now I like what I see better than I did before.Ô I reached for my hat and pushed out of the chair. ÓMike ... if you had lost ... would you have told me about Penta?Ô I didnÒt have to lie my way out of that. I said, ÓThe point is moot, kid. I didnÒt lose.Ô I winked at her and stuck my hat on. ÓThanks for the drink.Ô She smiled when I walked past her toward the door and just as I was reaching for the knob, she said, ÓMike ...Ô I looked back and suddenly had one of those feelings that I had been here before in another time. The Ice Lady had let her dress crumple at her feet in soft folds and she had been wearing nothing beneath it. She was nude rather than naked, not icy at all, but warm and beautiful and so alive I could see the gentle movements of her breathing. Very alive. The nipples of her breasts were proudly erect. She smiled at me. I smiled back and opened the door. The desk nurse at the hospital was glad to have somebody to talk to, even at midnight. Velda was still under sedation, but definitely improving. The doctors had been in twice that day and were pleased with her progress. Yes, a police officer was still at the door and no, they never wandered off. Officers would relieve each other at regular intervals. I thanked her, hung up and dialed Petey Benson at his
apartment. As I expected, he was having a beer in front of the TV and when he recognized my voice, asked, ÓHowÒd you make out?Ô ÓLike brother and sister,Ô I told him. ÓYeah, I bet. WhatÒs up this time?Ô ÓYou have any connections in England?Ô ÓHey, EnglandÒs a big place.Ô ÓManchester, England.Ô ÓWell, thereÒs a sportswriter on the Manchester Guardian I met in London at a football game. Not like our football, but like soccer ...Ô ÓI know what you mean,Ô I snapped impatiently. DonÒt steer him and Petey would go off into every odd angle. ÓHow can I reach him?Ô ÓGot a pencil?Ô ÓSure.Ô ÓThen IÒll give you his number.Ô He rustled some pages in his phone book, then read the number off to me. ÓI think weÒre five hours behind them over there. Call him a little later and you might get him in.Ô ÓOkay. IÒm going to use your name.Ô ÓBe my guest. I donÒt suppose you want to tell me what this is all about.Ô ÓLater,Ô I said. Russell Graves was in and Ódelighted indeedÔ to speak to someone in the colonies. Actually, in fact, it was the first overseas call he had ever gotten, as he put it. Petey was some sort of a hero figure to him, an American crime reporter who had a fat expense account and was assigned to the really exciting cases. When I told him I was a real American private eye who was working with Petey and needed an overseas connection he got so worked up I thought heÒd cream his jeans. He made sure I knew he was only a sports reporter, but I told him that crime was everywhere, even in sports, so that shouldnÒt stop him. ÓWell, then, Mr. Hammer, what is it you wish me to do?Ô ÓSometime back an American was murdered outside Manchester. I donÒt know his name and canÒt describe him, but he was a federal agent working over there.Ô ÓThat sounds awfully vague, Mr. Hammer.Ô ÓPossibly, but murders in your country arenÒt all that frequent.Ô ÓTimes have changed somewhat, sir.Ô ÓI realize that. But this is an American who was killed. If it happened in the countryside somebody would be aware of it. ThereÒs one other thing ... this kill could have been a vicious one.Ô ÓVicious?Ô ÓNot a clean kill. There might be something pretty nasty about it. You know what I mean?Ô ÓYes,Ô he said, ÓI believe I do.Ô ÓNow,Ô I went on, ÓthereÒs a possibility that our government and yours are playing this matter down, but weÒre looking for a killer who hit over there and here, and likely will try to hit someplace else too. ThatÒs why I suggest you look outside the normal channels for anything on the murder over there.Ô ÓIs there any way I can get a story out of this? IÒm sure my editor would see it in my favor ...Ô ÓGuaranteed, Russell. You and Petey can have it together if it works out.Ô That was enough for him. I gave him my home and office numbers, told him to call person-to-person and if he could expedite matters any, IÒd get him tickets the next time our pro teams staged a preseason football game in a British stadium. When I hung up, I got a cold beer out of the refrigerator, drank it down in two long draughts, as the British would say, and went to bed.
Mickey Spillane - [Mike Hammer] Page 4