by Jay Bennett
“Ferer?”
“Sit down.”
He had a long, thin body and a sensitive dark face. The nose was long and thin, the eyes deep-set and brown, the lips, narrow, bloodless, and cruel. His head was completely bald.
He studied the swollen lips and the fresh marks on Eddie’s face. He smiled thinly.
“I see you met some of my men.”
“I met them.”
“There are more,” he said, in his hard, metallic voice. Eddie didn’t say anything.
“Take a drink.”
“Not in the mood.”
“Take it,” Ferer commanded. “What do you want?”
“Straight rye.”
“Fine.”
He motioned with his long thin hand to a waiter. Eddie noted grimly how quickly the waiter came running over. He sat silently watching while Ferer ordered the drinks, smoothly and crisply. The bald-headed man was meticulously groomed in a dark, closelyfitting suit, solid gray silk tie tightly knotted, and pin-striped shirt. He wore a narrow gold band on one of the fingers of his long hands.
This guy is steel, Eddie thought. Smooth as steel. The smooth side of murder. I once fought a joker like him. By the end of the fight I couldn’t see out of either eye. He had sliced them open, quick and easy, like with a scalpel. I was out of the ring for six months. The worst beating of my life.
What is this guy going to do to me?
Ferer seemed to be listening to the music, unaware of Eddie. Then without turning, he spoke. “The money.”
It caught Eddie off balance.
“What?”
“Did you use any of it?”
“Nothing. It’s all there.”
“I want it all.”
“I haven’t got it on me.”
“I know that.”
The waiter came over with the drinks. Eddie took his and drank it down. But the whisky couldn’t warm the icy feeling within him.
Ferer sipped his martini. “The cab driver was found floating in the East River,” he said.
Eddie said nothing.
“His head was smashed in.”
“I haven’t got the money,” Eddie said.
“His face battered. He took a very bad beating.”
In the background, the piano began again. The melody sparkled through the humming room.
“A bad way to die. There are easier ones, I’m sure.”
The clear liquid in his glass shone. Ferer’s lips poised above the fine rim, and then sipped again. Thin, cruel lips.
“You didn’t know he was dead, did you?”
“No.”
“I thought not.”
His metallic voice contrasted strongly with the thin face and the lean body. The Spanish accent seemed to give it an even more menacing quality.
“You have a friend.”
“Al Walker?”
“Your manager. What did he do with the money?”
“I found the money.” Eddie said. “I just took Al along for kicks.”
“You found the money. You took him along to manage you. To think for you. We know all about you, Doran. We know all about him.”
The brown eyes became dark with hatred. The voice was edged. “We don’t know quite everything yet. But we will.”
“Give me time,” Eddie said.
“We could torture him to death, but it wouldn’t help. He loves money too much. He would prefer to die rather than give it away.”
He leaned forward. “I know his kind too well. And I know your kind.”
“Time,” Eddie said, “and I’ll get to the money.”
“You can’t put your hands on it now?”
“No.”
“And if we were to take you upstairs and work over you?”
“I still couldn’t put my hands on it.”
“My men want you killed now, Doran. Now. But they don’t think. They want Walker killed. But that wouldn’t help any, would it?”
“It wouldn’t,” Eddie said.
“Then nobody would get the hundred thousand dollars.”
“Nobody.”
“I thought so,” Ferer said coldly.
“Give me time,” Eddie said.
“Time?”
“A day. Two days. Give me two days. I’m between rounds now. I don’t know how the hell to think my way out. Two days, Ferer. And you’ll have the hundred grand.”
He waited while Ferer sipped the last remains of the glass. Waited till the long thin hand set the glass down.
Ferer rose. His figure stood tall and dark over Eddie.
“Come with me.” Ferer stood threateningly over Eddie, turned and walked to the archway. Eddie got up and slowly followed him out. As he walked, his ears kept straining for the soothing music, till they could no longer hear it.
He silently followed Ferer up a carpeted staircase and along a narrow corridor until he stopped at one of the doors. Ferer lifted his thin hand and knocked twice. The door opened.
“Get inside,” he said to Eddie.
The door closed behind them.
It was a large, high room with wide windows that looked out upon the sparkling ocean. The moonlight came flooding through the windows and onto a large white bed. Two men stood near the bed. They nodded silently to Ferer and then glared at Eddie, their eyes hard and penetrating. No one spoke. The only sound was that of the implacable ocean.
The two men were Mateo and Juan.
“Come here, Doran.”
Eddie approached and saw the face of the man lying in the bed, and he stopped.
“You know him.”
Eddie stared at the haggard man in the bed and thought of the little fellow on the street waving frantically after the taxi.
The cheeks were now sunken and looked dark and hollow in the moonlight. The body under the sheet was quiet and small as a child’s. It moved faintly with a regular but shallow breathing. The eyes gleamed and stared up at the shadowy ceiling.
The dapper little man with the brief case.
And Eddie could hear his voice like a great, empty cry.
Señor. Señor. Please, Señor. Hurry. Please!
Then he heard Ferer’s voice blotting out the cry. “He tried to kill himself. He was in a coma. We’ve been keeping him alive until we found you. As we knew we would.”
Eddie felt a chill begin to settle over him. Ferer’s long lean figure looked grisly and macabre in the eerie light. When he spoke again, his teeth flashed evenly.
“We live by a harsh code, Doran. Live and die by it. No one makes a mistake and lives. Now he’s going to face his mistake and die.”
He turned to Juan and nodded curtly. Juan went over to the bed and raised the little man to a sitting position.
“El nombre,” Ferer said.
The haggard face slowly swung about, till the eyes saw Eddie. Then they filled with a live and glowing hate.
“El hombre” the voice whispered.
The whisper was a scream to Eddie. He trembled.
“El hombre” the voice whispered over and over again.
Till Eddie wanted to put his hands to his ears.
“Mateo,” Ferer said.
Mateo took out a knife. Holding the shining blade he went over to the bed. His hair was smooth and raven black.
“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie shouted, his voice coming out choked and twisted.
Then he saw the gun in Ferer’s hand and he stopped stock-still.
“Just stand and watch.”
“Ferer.”
“He lost a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Ferer. Ferer, you’ll have the money, I tell you. Let him uve.”
“We’ll have the money.”
Juan held the little man tight in his huge arms. Mateo raised his hand in a sudden sharp motion.
“Stop!” Eddie shouted.
The knife rose and fell. There was a gurgling sound and Juan let the body fall back onto the bed. A stain of dark ^ blood spread over the silvery sheet.
All was silent i
n the large moonlit room.
Then Eddie heard Ferer’s icy voice.
“He made a mistake, Doran. Don’t you make the same.” Slowly he put the gun back into his pocket.
“Two days,” he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Al sat on the edge of the bed, still as a statue. Eddie started getting undressed. The room was silent except for the wind and pounding surf.
Eddie listened to it and found himself thinking of the little man, the knife plunging into his white throat and the spreading stain of dark blood.
He heard again the gurgling sound.
Eddie flung his shirt onto a chair.
“How’s Laura?”
Al bit at his lip and didn’t answer.
“She all right?”
“Yeah,” Al muttered.
Eddie kicked op his shoes, walked over to the night table and picked up the pack of cigarettes. He lit one and watched Al’s motionless figure.
“What’s going to be with her?”
“Better think what’s going to be with us.”
“I’m thinking, Al.”
“We’re going to make a run for it, Eddie,” Al suddenly said.
Eddie took the cigarette out of his mouth and stared at him. “I don’t get you.”
“There’s nothing to get. The money is ours, and ours to keep.”
“I told you it’s a gang. Who knows how many of them there are!”
“Let it be an army, for all I give a damn.”
Eddie tapped out his cigarette and came over to him. “Al, for crissake. They killed two guys already. Just because of the money. They beat me. They knocked the hell out of poor Frank Morse. What more do you want?”
“Frank Morse. He was the cab driver,” Al said, and there was a bead of sweat on his forehead.
“You know goddam well he was. And they bashed his brains out. The poor bastard never had a chance. Not with those murderers!”
Eddie’s voice broke for an instant. There was a hoarse ring to it. ‘They play for keeps,” he yelled.
Al stirred himself and then snapped out, “And so do I, Eddie. So do I.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I?”
He rose from the bed and glared at the big man. “I’ve tangled with hoods before and I’m still around. Did you ever know Johnny Corsi wanted in on you? Did you? When you were going good and making dough. He came to me and tried to pressure me. I’m still around.” “This is different.”
“How?” Al shouted. “How? I got something a hood wants. And I don’t want to give it to him. How is it different? How, you stupid pug?”
“You’re rocking,” Eddie said, staring at him.
“Little Spic bastards. Spic. Spic. Spic!”
Al grabbed at the window curtains and jerked them aside. His face became livid. “The hell with you, you sons of bitches,” he cried. “The hell with you.”
He ran to the door and swung it open. “I’ll tear their lousy guts out. Nobody’s getting it. Nobody.” Eddie got between him and the open door. He flung Al back and closed it again.
“Cut it, Al.”
“Ill kill the bastards. Kill them!”
“Al!”
“It’s ours, Eddie. Ours!”
Eddie held him tight, till the wild, distracted look left his eyes. Then he slowly released him.
The manager stood there in the center of the room, his face white and clammy, a drop of spit gleaming on his lips. Then he said in a distant voice, “That’s not the way.”
And he said it again, as if chiding himself, “That’s not the way.”
“It isn’t.”
Al looked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “I guess I lost my head. Eh, kid?”
“You lost it.”
“Yeah. Always the cool and collected baby. I was the one who thought out every move for you.”
He drew the robe closer to his body, as though he had a sudden chill. His jaw muscles hardened. “It scares me, the way I just acted. And the way I hit Laura. Scares me, Eddie.”
Eddie came over to him and put his arm around his shoulders. “It’s the goddam money, Al. That’s what it is.”
Al’s brown eyes narrowed. “It threw me for a while. But it’s not going to throw me any more. I’ll keep my head from now on. He nodded. “Figure out every move. Every move.”
He went over to the bed and sat down again. His face was a mask. Only the eyes were alive. Like two black glittering marbles.
The room was hushed. The pounding of the surf beat against its walls.
“They gave you two days,” Al said.
“Yeah.”
“They wouldn’t’ve given you two seconds. But they can’t help themselves.”
“I told Ferer I’d get the money.”
“So you told him. The money’s in a box. An iron box. Our ace card.” He gripped his knee, then slowly let go. “An ace.”
His eyes glittered. “We got what they want. But they can’t kill it out of us.” His eyes rested harshly on Eddie. “Can they, Eddie?”
“I don’t like getting mixed up with a gang,” Eddie said. “I don’t like what I saw tonight. I don’t like what I got.”
“You had a rough round,” Al said. “You had rough rounds before. I told you it was numbers way back in New York, didn’t I?”
“Maybe I didn’t think it through then.”
“You mean maybe you weren’t scared then.”
Eddie’s lips thinned into a hard line. “I’m not scared. You know me better than that.”
“Maybe I don’t know you at all.”
Eddie’s face whitened. “Let’s drop it, Al.”
Al smiled thinly and was silent. The scar on his face was a red thread. Eddie went over to the window and looked out at the gray beach. They were sitting together, two dark figures on the empty sand. Beyond them was the white charge of the breaking waves.
He saw the glow of a cigarette, a tiny stab in the gray expanse, then he drew the curtains together and wiped it all from his sight.
“We’re taking the two days,” Al said.
Eddie waited.
“And then we cross them up.”
Eddie came slowly over to him. “How do you mean?”
“Just let me figure it out. I’m starting to smell an idea.”
He reached over for a cigarette, lit it, smoked quietly. The smoke curled away from the dim light of the lamp and “into the room shadows.
Al’s fingers drummed on his bare knee. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea. Not all there yet. But it’ll come. We’re going to sucker them in. And then run like hell.”
“Where?”
“There are lots of places, Eddie. Lots of them.”
Eddie shook his head grimly. “These guys found us here. They’ll find us again.”
The fingers stopped drumming. “Why?”
“Because the hundred grand belongs to them. That’s why. And as long as it does they’ll keep looking till they find it again.”
“I said you were scared and I say it again.”
“The hell with you,” Eddie said bitterly.
“You’re crapping out like you always did.” His voice rose. “That’s why you never made champ.”
“Al.”
“Any time the going got rough you crapped out. And you want to do it now.”
“Al, I’ll clip you!”
“Go ahead. But it won’t change anything. You’re still what you are. Go ahead, Eddie.”
Eddie slowly dropped his fists to his sides. He moved over to a chair and sat down heavily. The room was silent again.
Finally Al spoke. “Eddie.”
Eddie didn’t answer.
“Eddie, what are we crossing each other up for? We started out together. Didn’t we, kid? Didn’t we?” His voice trailed off into the stillness.
“Eddie,” he said again.
Eddie sighed. “All right, Al. I’ll play it your way.” Then he added, with a twisted smile, “Don’t I alway
s?”
Al grinned across at him. Their shadows hung on the wall. “Now you’re talking like the Tiger again. The real Tiger.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said wryly.
Al got up and came over to him. “The trouble with you, kid, is you try and think. And then you get yourself all tangled up. You’re an action guy, Eddie. A boy with two fists. Isn’t that how it always was?”
Eddie gazed at the grinning face and didn’t answer.
“Any time you thought for yourself you landed flat on your back. Because you didn’t listen to Uncle Al. That’s why. But now you’re on his side again. And you’re sitting in the lucky corner. The lucky corner.”
He patted Eddie on the shoulder. “We got a big round coming up, kid. A real big one.”
The glittering look slowly crept back into the hard eyes. The scar began to redden again. His voice became guttural. “I’m getting those guns tomorrow. I’ll find a way to get them. They can tail me with an army but I’ll get to those guns.”
The words tumbled out rapidly, wildly. Eddie kept staring at the glittering eyes.
“Kill us? We’ll kill a few of them before we’re done. The guns will make us even. Even with them. A hood’s got a gun. That’s what makes him strong. Huh, Eddie?”
He thrust his face close to Eddie’s. “We go in tomorrow afternoon and we split up. You just mosey around. Let the bastards follow you where they want. But stick on the crowded streets and around the crowded places. They’ll follow you, but they’ll leave you alone. They won’t rough you up. I know how they operate. Then meet me back here at night. And I’ll have the guns, Eddie.”
The words choked in his throat.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lying in bed unable to sleep, Eddie felt a light touch upon his shoulder. He turned abruptly.
It was Laura.
“Eddie?”
The night was thinning away and he could see the whiteness of her face and the gleam of her eyes.
“Eddie,” she said again.
“Laura.”
“Al’s sleeping. I have to talk to you.”
She sat down on the bed beside him, and in the gray dimness he could see the swelling of. her lip, where Al had struck her. She put her hand to it, as if to cover it from his stare.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be okay.”