Everybody Had A Gun

by Richard Prather

  I waited to see how he took it. This was the first I'd heard about any lists, and maybe it was too steep for him. Steep or not, he was the kind of guy who'd hate to pass up a chance at big gravy. And this kind of talk was in the multiple thousands.

  He didn't say anything, just looked at me, not moving. Well, I'd been saving my trump for last. It looked like I'd have to shake him up a bit. It was worth a try.

  I ran over again all the things that had occurred to me, before and after bats on the head, and I said, "Maybe you think I'm talking through my hat. Maybe you already know everything I've said. But I'm going to tell you something now I'm positive you don't know."

  He perked up a little bit and I glanced around the room. Flick was over leaning against the far wall, and at least he didn't have his automatic pointed at me now that things had quieted down. Lonely and Shenandoah were on my left sitting on two more wooden chairs they'd dragged in. Lonely had straddled his chair and leaned on the back while he watched me and idly spun the cylinder of a .38 revolver in his fist. Joe-Joe and Harry leaned casually on the desk.

  I turned and glanced at Iris and that sent a surprise all the way through me. Maybe it shouldn't have, but I'd practically forgotten about her while I talked.

  She was looking at me with her eyes wide and horrified, her lips curling in disgust. She must have been thinking this was all on the level, that I really was one of Sader's boys. If she'd stopped to figure it out she'd have known better, but come to think of it, that was a good sign. If I had her convinced, at least temporarily, I might be getting a wedge into Breed.

  I turned back to him. "Listen to this, Breed. Sader's bucking you. He wants your top spot. You've already said that's no news to you. But you must also know he's no fool. He's been planning this thing for a long time. Remember he's smart. And remember, too, that a little while ago I told you to keep in mind how much easier it would be if you were out of the way."

  I paused a moment for him to think about that, then I said casually, "One of your boys, Breed, one of the boys right in this room, is on Marty Sader's payroll."

  Chapter Fourteen

  BREED's fat hands came up and gripped the arms of his chair. Lonely stood up suddenly, clutching his revolver, his wooden chair toppling over and crashing against the floor as Flick came away from the wall and stopped. Shenandoah's right hand crept nervously up toward his armpit, and the burly Harry and little Joe-Joe Klein stood up straight beside Breed's desk.

  Breed leaned over and grabbed the front of my shirt with one pudgy hand and shook me.

  "Take your damn hands off me, Breed."

  He looked surprised when I said it. It even surprised me a little. I was in no position to tell Breed what to do or what not to do. It made no difference. He kept on shaking me. He half yelled, "You bastard! You're lying. You're lying to save your own damn neck."

  "Let go of me, Breed." Finally he did and I got my breath and said, "Hell, yes, I'm trying to save my neck. But it might save your fat neck, too. And I'm not lying. For Christ's sake, get smart, Breed. Sader is. He got to me months ago with so much dough I couldn't say no. There's not a dick in town, private or otherwise, with a cleaner rep than I've got. So I can get plenty of info Sader can use—and he got to me. Is that dumb?"

  He kept looking at me and he didn't look friendly. But at least his hands were off me, and he was listening. I went on, "Sader's been getting ready to take you over for months, Breed. And I'm just one of the little angles. I've talked part of his plans over with him. Not much, maybe, but enough so I know what's going on. Think about it, master mind. If Sader's after your spot, isn't he going to get rid of you? And if he's after your scalp, is there a better way to get it than by planting one of his boys right next to you?"

  I'd finally got to him a little. He licked his fat lips and shook his head like he was saying no, but not believing it. I grinned at him. Now it was easier. I looked over at Iris so she could wrinkle her nose and blink at her hero.

  She was wrinkling her nose, all right. Like she was smelling a slum sewer. I stopped grinning.

  "Who?" Breed said.

  I came back to him. "What?"

  "Who is it, Scott? Which one of my boys?"

  There'd been a little scuffling of feet and sounds of throats being cleared and chairs moved. It all stopped.

  And this was it. From here I went either up or down.

  About six feet down, if it worked out that way. I needed some luck mixed with my logic, but here it went.

  I strained forward a little against the ropes that held me and I said, "Watch him, boys. Watch him now."

  Then I looked across the room and I said as if I meant it, "I'm sorry, Flick. It's your neck or mine, and I like yours better."

  As soon as I looked at him he knew what I was trying to pull and he started toward me. Lonely grabbed for him as he went by, but he twisted away, his eyes on me, and jumped at me with his fists clenched. Harry and Joe-Joe shoved away from the desk and leaped for Flick, but they weren't fast enough and he got by them. He swung his balled fist through the air at me and I jerked my head up, but his knuckles piled into my chin and I felt my teeth grate against each other. His left hand cut through the air and slammed into my right ear just as Harry and Joe-Joe grabbed him and pulled him away from me.

  There was a ringing in my head, and I was dizzy, but I wasn't near going under, and the funny thing was that the back of my head hurt more than where he'd hit me. But it shot my thoughts all to hell for a while.

  Then I saw the two guys holding Flick, and Lonely taking away his gun while Shenandoah held an automatic on him. I remembered the whole thing now. I'd started the ball rolling; I wondered where it would stop.

  Breed's velvety voice rumbled in my ear. "Don't get any ideas, Scott. I'm pretty sure you're lying. You've got plenty explaining to do. And Scott, if this is a gag I'll let Flick shoot you right here."

  Flick yelled across the room, "You lyin' bastard! If I get my hands on a gun, I'll plug you in the stomach. So help me, I'll shoot you in the stomach."

  I looked straight at Breed. "Just give me time and I'll convince you. I'll even prove it for you. Who's your newest boy, Breed?"

  He frowned. Slowly he said, "Flick is."

  "I know it. I know more about him than you do." I shook my head trying to remember how long Lieutenant Rawlins had said Flick had been with Breed when I was looking over the photos at City Hall. I said, "About six weeks, right?"

  "That's right."

  "And a small point, Breed. I'm tied up. I've been slapped around a little. But you notice Flick didn't mess with me till after I'd spilled the beans about him."

  It was just luck he hadn't, and neither had the other boys except Lonely, but I might as well use it. I needed everything I had.

  Breed swung his head around to look at Flick, then turned back to me. I said quickly, "Here's something else. Something else you don't know. Tell me this first: Why did Sader kill Lobo?"

  He lifted his cheeks, squinting at me, but he didn't answer.

  I said, "Just tell me, Breed. You're wrong, anyway. But tell me what you think the reason was and I'll show you where you're wrong." I knew what I was going to tell him, but I wanted to know his angle.

  He said, "I don't think I'm wrong, Scott. Sader's been getting too big for his britches, trying to take over some of my places and start some of his own—hell, he even had you checking that Slauson place of mine as long as three months back. Well, he's been getting a little start, see? That's O.K. as long as he kicks in, but he wasn't.

  "I sent Lobo to Sader with orders that Sader had to either kick in his fifty per cent from now on or blow—or there'd be trouble. And I told Lobo to make it strong and definite. It looks to me like Sader knew things had come to a head, and maybe he was ready to make his move. He wasn't going to kick in, anyway, so he shot Lobo. As simple as that. Maybe they had trouble; maybe they didn't. But you'll have a hard time convincing me that wasn't it."

  Well, he'd cleared up that part
for me. I didn't question Breed's explanation; undoubtedly that was what had actually happened—but it wasn't much help to me like that.

  I nodded wisely, as though I'd known all along what he'd just told me, and said, "You're still wrong." I hesitated while I got it straight and went on, "You've got most of it right. Lobo did go to Sader with the word, and Sader didn't like any part of the deal. He was getting ready to make his move—not this soon, but soon—and he got rid of one tough boy in his way by killing Lobo. But the important thing is that Sader didn't have to kill him. It's like the guy, sure, but why couldn't he have stalled Lobo and waited till everything was set and you were pushing up daisies? After Flick had shot you in the back, Breed!"

  He swallowed, and I gave him the rest of it. "There's the real reason Lobo was killed."

  Breed still looked blank.

  I said, "Don't you get it? Christ, man, Flick was there. Flick was with Sader, and Lobo walked in on them before the club closed up for the night. He smelled the double cross right away and got killed for it"

  I settled back with my heart pounding. This was the shakiest part of my whole spiel, and I knew it. I was on eggshell territory, and if Flick had been kidding about being with "better than Iris" the last two nights, I was going to bust right through.

  Apparently he hadn't been kidding. At least, nobody spoke up and said Flick was with them at the time Lobo had been getting slugs in his head.

  I let out a breath while Flick swore viciously at me, then kept it going. "Flick must have gone to the club to warn Sader you were sending him an ultimatum. I'm guessing there, Breed, but it makes sense." I pushed it a little. "Or don't you think so?"

  He nodded slowly, eyes on my face.

  I asked him, "Could Sader let Lobo come back and tell you Flick was getting ready to stick a knife in your back? How do you like that, Breed? Think about it. Flick's your newest man; he slugged me after I spilled; he's the real reason Lobo was killed. Doesn't it make sense that Sader would love to have a man on your inside, all primed to knock you off when Sader gave the word? Ready to kill you?"

  It was obvious that Breed didn't like the idea of anybody killing him. The other way around was O.K., but for anybody to kill him was a lousy idea. I had him hooked, but he wasn't landed yet. I shot my last wad at him.

  "Breed. Get this. You can understand it now. I didn't sap Flick. I wasn't even there."

  I let it hang there. I wanted Breed to think it out for himself. He'd believe it a lot quicker than if I just told him.

  And then I remembered Iris and it scared me. What if she should pick this time to open her yap and spill my whole barrel of beans? I turned my head and glared at her. Her mouth was open all right, but she slowly closed it. Some of the disgust was fading out of her eyes and she looked puzzled.

  I turned back to Breed. "Well? How does it read?"

  He was nibbling at it. He'd got most of it now, so I laid it out for him a piece at a time. "Simple, huh? Now you know how Sader managed his powder."

  It didn't make any difference whether the boys knew about Sader's back way out; almost surely they did because the door was obvious after a little looking. But the only guy who'd seen me in the Pit was Flick before I slugged him. And apparently nobody had seen Sader leave. It looked as if maybe this part of the deal, at least, was on ice.

  I went on, "I don't know quite how it happened, because, like I said, I wasn't there. But you've told me enough tonight for me to get the picture. Sader got away from you and somebody sapped Flick. Flick is Sader's boy—his prize boy. Now, how do you suppose Sader got out?"

  For the first time Breed turned and spoke to Flick. He said, "You should known better, Flick. You shoulda."

  That was all, but Flick got paler. He said, "Christ, boss. He's making' this up, He's lyin'. Please, boss. I swear he's lyin'."

  Breed said flatly, "Shut up."

  "But, boss, it was him that sapped me. While the rest of the boys was in the office. Where's he get this? God Almighty, he—"

  Breed growled, "Shut up, I told you. Boys, if you have to, shut him up good."

  I butted in. "What do you bet, Breed, there's not much of a lump on Flick's skull? I shouldn't think Sader would tap his prize boy too hard. Hey! Maybe nobody sapped him."

  Flick put a hand to the back of his head and mumbled, "Oh, Jesus. I was sapped. Feel it. He sapped me." Then he shut up fast as Lonely moved toward him.

  I seemed to be out of the oasis, but I was still in the middle of the desert. I said, "Well, Breed? Am I making sense? How about a deal? Why not let the girl and me go? I can get you everything you want. Money, those lists I mentioned, even Sader."

  "Let you go?" He was politely amazed. "Scott, if you'd double-cross Sader, you'd double-cross me." He chuckled.

  "Don't get the idea I've swallowed all your talk, boy. So you double-cross Flick, that's all."

  Hell, I wasn't even out of the oasis.

  I said, "Let her go. All you need is me."

  "And have her come back with a bunch of Sader's pals? That's a laugh."

  "All right, all right. But how's this? I'll get in touch with Sader, get the money, the lists, get Sader." Hell, I'd have promised him Mars just to get out of this room with no ropes on my arms. "Then that'll prove I mean what I say. O. K.?"

  Breed screwed up his red face and was quiet for a while. Then he said, "Here's your deal. You get Sader. Do all you've said you'll do. Then you can leave. You're your own boss then."

  He sounded sincere as a preacher. He lied better than I did. I said, "O.K. Deal. Untie me and I'll get going."

  "You can get in touch with Sader?"

  "Sure I can get in touch with Sader. You think I been kidding you?"

  And just like that I'd gone and done it. Things had been going my way too long and I had to get cocky and overplay it.

  Breed smiled and said, "Fine. Then you can phone him from here. Got a phone on the desk. He knows you're his good right arm, so he'll be glad to talk to you."

  This guy wasn't so dumb. He was no genius, maybe, but he was top boy in his line. And he had me squirming. But I had to blunder through with it now or I'd ruin everything I'd accomplished up to here.

  I must have looked funny because Breed said, "What's the matter?"

  I sighed. "That's not the way I wanted to do it, but you're the boss, Breed. Untie me. I can't phone with my hands tied."

  I was starting to sweat. Breed, with five of his men behind him, probably wouldn't mind letting me call, and I could fiddle around with the phone—but what happened when I didn't get Sader? And life had never seemed sweeter. I glanced at Iris and she looked straight back at me. There was no disgust in her eyes any more, but she looked a little scared. If she was only a little scared, she was a lot braver than I was.

  Joe-Joe went around behind me and cut the rope on my hands. They tingled as the circulation picked up. They'd be hurting in a minute. That sure worried me.

  The first thing I did when my hands were free was to reach up and feel my head. Then I got up and walked slowly over behind Breed's desk and moved a wooden chair from the wall to the desk. "O.K. if I park here? I'm cramped from that damn chair you had me tied in."

  Breed nodded, then scooted his swivel chair over to the opposite side of the desk and watched me. I wondered if any of what I was going through showed on my face. If it did, I was gone; I couldn't even remember the number of the Pit. I'd seen it when I looked up the address in the phone book after I'd first called on Mia, but I was double damned if I could remember even one of the numbers. Mia—I wondered where she was this fine night. I wondered a lot of things, but I pulled the dial phone over to me, lifted the phone off the hook, and stuck my finger in one of the holes. There was a sort of haze in front of my eyes and I'd have had to squint to make out the number. It made no difference; I didn't have the faintest idea who the hell I was calling.

  I dialed a couple of random letters, then five numbers, looking determined and businesslike. Then I put the phone to my ear and
listened to my heart pounding.

  I listened to something else, too. The howling in my ear that meant I'd dialed a big nothing, a nonexistent number. It was a fairly faint noise, but I held the phone close to my ear where there was little chance Breed would hear it, then I pressed my fingers down on the receiver and looked across the desk at him. I said in as calm a voice as I could, "It's busy."

  Iris knew the number of the Pit. All I had to do was ask her what it was and I'd get shot; I was afraid even to look at her. Sweat should have been splashing off me. Breed stared curiously at me as I hung up the phone.

  And then Iris, dear, delightful, happy-tilting, wonderful Iris, did herself proud. Sweetly she asked, "Did you dial Michigan one-one-six-four-five?"

  I loved her. I forgave her everything. From here on in we were even.

  But I didn't look at her. I said gruffly, "Of course. Where the hell you think I'd call?" Michigan 1-1645. I repeated it once to myself, but it wasn't necessary. Those numbers were burned into my brain.

  Breed squinted, his eyes licking from me to Iris and back to me again. He hadn't liked it. "Where's that?" he rumbled.

  I took a small chance. What was a small chance? "That's Sader's number at the Pit," I said, like any fool would know it. "I think he'll be there by now."

  Breed let it go. He still had all the cards; he could afford to be generous. I figured it was all right now to glance at Iris. She had a pleased-with-herself look on her face.

  I waited as long as I could. Then I pulled the phone to me and dialed Michigan 1-1645.

  The phone went buzz, buzz, buzz in my ear. Busy! For a minute it shocked me. Then I knew I couldn't mess around any longer. Breed was suspicious already. Besides, it wasn't too bad this way. I was the only one who knew the line was busy, and if Sader were at the Pit it was just as well I didn't start babbling nonsense at him. The boys here in the room might hear him yelling clear through my head.

  I held the receiver tight against my ear and said, "Sader? Scott. Something's busted wide open. I'll tell you about it when I get there. And, look, the lists of the boys pushing the stuff. Have 'em there. Yeah, the lists. What? Hell, I haven't got time to explain, Marty. I'll be right down."