Chance Elson

by Ballard, Todhunter, 1903-1980

  Chance dropped the gun into his pocket. He loosened her hands, which were gripping his shoulders. "J^dy, get something straight. Cellini has been asking for this for a long time. It isn't you, or what he said today. It's just something I've got to take care of."

  He pushed her gently out of the way and left the house. Joe found her crying in the bedroom. "Hell be killed." She said it over and over.

  "Who wilir

  "Chance."

  "Naw," said Joe. "Don't worry about Chance. He knows what he's doing. He always does."

  Chance went back to the club. Doc saw him come in. Doc followed him to the ofiBce.

  "What do you think you're going to do?"

  Chance sat down at the desk. "What makes you think I'm going to do anything?"

  Doc blew his top. "That bulge in your pocket isn't a pack of cigarettes. Who in hell told you you were a gunman?"

  "No one."

  "So you think Cellini has to be taken care of?"

  "I know Goddamn well he has to be. When he starts on Judy, it's time I take care of him myself."

  Their eyes locked. Doc was trying hard to be reasonable. "Let's bring someone in. Even Danzig has stopped doing his own killing. All we need is a murder rap against you."

  Chance didn't answer. He turned and went out into the gambling room, spotting the head private deputy. There were three oflBcers on duty at all times, dressed in Western costume, special officers from the sheriff's office but paid by the club.

  The deputy's name was Haines and he had once worked for a national detective agency. Chance liked him. He paused

  at the man's side, saying in a low voice, "Which one of your staff do you trust?"

  Haines considered. "Guyer. He's young, but he knows how to keep his mouth shut."

  "Get hold of him. Have someone take your shift on the floor. Both of you get into some regular clothes and come to my office. I've got a special job for you. There's five hundred to spHt."

  He went back to the oflRce. Doc looked at him. "All right, if you have to go through with this, take me with you."

  Chance reached out then and took hold of Doc's shoulders and for an instant they just stood there, lookiiig at each other. There was more understanding in that instant than there had ever been before. When the chips were down, Doc was in there swinging.

  Chance said, "Thanks." He would have loved to let go, to tell Doc exactly how he felt, how he had felt about the way Doc had taken over when he was sick. But there was a mental block that kept him from doing it.

  He punched Doc's shoulder and went around the desk. It took a full minute before he felt that he could speak without his voice breaking.

  "I need you here, if anything goes wrong."

  Doc nodded silently and went out. The moment of understanding was lost.

  Chance drew the gun from his pocket. It was a thirty-eight special on a forty-five frame. Now as he made certain the gun was loaded, in working condition, he wondered how other men felt when they were starting on business of this kind.

  Danzig had killed a dozen men, and every killing had been carefully planned and executed.

  Chance was not planning to kill, but he knew that it could come to that. He would show Celhni that it was physically dangerous to threaten Chance, or anyone connected with Chance. Violence was the only thing CeUini would understand or respect.

  There was a knock at the door and Haines came in followed by Guyer. Guyer was young, twenty-three or -four,

  but his face was set and his eyes were steady as they met Chance's.

  Chance said, "This is it. If you don't want a part, say so when I get through talking, but if either of you ever mention what I say in this office, I'll kiU you."

  Haines looked a Httle startled. Guyer's expression did not change, but his eyes dropped to the gun on Chance's desk.

  Chance hesitated for a moment. "You both know who Cellini is and what he looks like?"

  Again there was surprise in Haines' eyes and a certain wariness, but they both nodded silently.

  "All right. This afternoon Cellini stopped my sister on the street and threatened her if I don't keep out of his business."

  He looked tall and very sinister standing there. His tone was still low, controlled, but it had gained deadliness. "No one threatens her, no one, and if CeUini has to learn the hard way, he still has to learn. I don't want to kill him, but I'm going to beat him until he will be in the hospital for months. I'll pay you boys five hundred to split if you will help me. If you don't want a piece of the deal, I'll get someone else."

  Haines surprised him. Haines said, "If it's your sister, to hell with the money. I like that kid. I saw her in the school play."

  Chance hadn't expected this. In his league you paid for what you got, you did not take favors from people. "We'll talk about the money later. What about you, Guyer?"

  The boy had a rather prominent Adam's apple. It went up and down his throat once before he said, "I'm in."

  "All right. Celhni's still in town, and if I know him, he's in one of the clubs, throwing his money around and making like a big shot. You two go out and spot him. I don't suppose he knows either of you by sight. Find out where his car is parked, and then one of you come back to tell me. We'U pick him up when he starts for his hotel."

  "Where's he staying?"

  "That new place, out on Ninety-One. I checked by phone. He has Cottage Twenty-One."

  They were gone an hour. Then Guyer came back. "He's in the Phoenix, at one of the crap tables. Haines is at the next table. Cellini's car is on the street about a block away."

  "All right. I don't want to pick him up downtown. You got a car?"

  "Haines has a Buick."

  "Get it and run me out to the motel. I want to try and pick Cellini up there, but he might not go home when he leaves the Phoenix. Park someplace where you can watch his car. When he gets into it, trail him. I'll be waiting on the porch of his cottage."

  Ralph Cellini was feeHng very good. He had convinced himself that he had made a wise move in threatening Judy Elson. It was time Elson realized they weren't fooling around.

  He looked over the big gambling room and then bet another hundred on the Hne. He had been wiiming, and Cellini hked to win.

  The shooter fell oflF, the next man threw three craps in a row, thereby costing Cellini four hundred doUars. The dice were turning against him. He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past twelve. He went out and walked down the street to where he had parked his Cadillac. He was very proud of the car. Driving it, feeling the surge of its pulsing motor, he was a big man.

  He started the motor and pulled out from the curb. He did not notice the Buick half a block away that fell in behind him, and if he had noticed he would not have paid any attention. The two men in the Buick's front seat were strangers, and Cellini had utter confidence that everything was under complete control.

  He turned in at the motel. He almost stopped at the lobby gambling room for a drink, then decided against it and wheeled the big car around the circular driveway to park before his cottage.

  Not until he was halfway up the walk from the curb did he notice that the porch Hght was ofiF. It registered on his consciousness only vaguely. He had the key in his hand and was fumbling at the door when a voice he knew said softly,

  "Don't move, Ralph," and he felt the pressure of the gun against his side.

  Cellini stood perfectly still. He was not wearing a gun. Danzig's orders were not to go armed in Vegas.

  Chance's tone chilled him. Cellini had never been brave, and Elson frightened him. The man at times did not seem human. Cellini was afraid of Danzig, but in a different way. Danzig would fly into a rage, smash everything about him. Chance never did anything like that. He seldom showed how he felt.

  "Look, I . . ."

  A car without lights drifted along the drive to pull up behind CeUini's Cadillac. He saw it, and his terror grew. "Who's that? What's going on?"

  "You're going to take a little ride with us." />
  The word meant only one thing to Celhni—death. He began to shake. "Now Hsten, you'll never get away with this."

  "Why not? Your friends do all the time. Do you think you have to be a gangster to step on a snake?"

  Haines came up the walk. Chance said, "Get your hands up, Ralph, high."

  Cellini was trembling now so that he could barely Hft his arms. Haines went over him with professional thoroughness. "He's clean."

  "All right, turn and walk back to your car. Get in the back seat and no tricks."

  Guyer was waiting beside the Buick. Chance said, "You drive the Cad. First, check it for gas."

  Guyer walked over to the big car. "It's full."

  "Good, we don't want to have to stop." He glanced at Haines. "You follow in your car. How's your gas?" He had not thought to warn them to fill the tank. It seemed that he had a lot to learn about such operations.

  "Full."

  He opened the rear door. "Get in, Cellini."

  For one wild moment Cellini planned a lunge for freedom, but before he could take a step Chance hit him in the face with the barrel of his gun. The man went down, only half conscious.

  Guyer helped Chance roll Cellini onto the rear seat. Chance pushed the man's fat legs out of his way and got in, slamming the door. "Drive out Ninety-One, and watch your speed."

  They drove out Highway Ninety-One, Guyer holding the Cadillac at an even sixty, the Buick a thousand yards behind. As they crossed the level stretch of the dry lake and started up the long grade that would lead them into California, Cellini moaned and struggled to sit up.

  "My nose is broken."

  Chance said nothing. CeUini turned his head and looked through the window, recognizing where they were. "Hey, youVe taking me out of the state."

  "I don't want anyone in Vegas blamed for this."

  "It's kidnaping. You—" He broke off as if suddenly realizing that a man with murder in his mind would not be daunted by kidnaping.

  "What do you want?" He was whining now. "I'll cut you in. I'll fix it with Danzig so you can handle our service in Vegas. I'm just like that with Benji. I'm the only one he listens to."

  Chance hit him again with the gun. He did not want to knock CeUini out. He wanted him to retain consciousness as long as possible, to endure as much punishment as a man could possibly take. Inside was his ball of hate, a hate which had been festering ever since Cleveland. He did not understand it all himself, but he knew that he had been different ever since the beating Crouse had given him.

  It wasn't revenge. In striking Cellini, he was striking at Danzig, at all the men whom they represented, whom he had been unable to stop. He was fighting his battle, and Kern's battle and the battle of everyone on whom the Syndicate had preyed.

  They drove on through the night. Cellini sat with his head buried in his hands, blood from his cut forehead leaking out between his laced fingers.

  Only one incident marred the drive. West of Baker, as they started up a winding grade, a state patrol car came around the bend toward them, its red hght flashing.

  Chance stiffened, the gun feeling hard and deadly in his hand. Guyer slowed down instinctively, pulling far right on the road, but the patrol raced past and was lost in the night.

  Cellini didn't see it. His face was still in his hands.

  Chance let his breath out slowly and leaned forward a Httle. "Find a side road before we get to the Yermo checking station and pull into it." He settled back. California maintained an agricultural quarantine on all incoming traflBc. He could not have the inspectors searching the car with Cellini there.

  The road led northward from the main highway. It was not much more than two tracks in the sand. Guyer slowed down. "This okay?"

  Chance glanced at the brush-covered desert. There was not a house in sight, and the only car he could see either way was Haines' Buick, still following them.

  "Why notr

  Guyer swung the car into the track, slowing to wait for Haines to catch up to them. Then they plowed northward, twisting in and out of the sand hills.

  "Find a place where Haines can turn, and stop. We don't want to get stuck in this sand."

  Guyer found a place half a mile off the highway. He stopped and Haines puUed up beside them. Chance opened the door.

  "Get out, Ralph. End of the line."

  Cellini lifted his head. He didn't beg. He had given up hope. He was almost past words.

  There was no pity in Chance. To him Cellini was no longer an individual. Cellini was a plague that must be checked.

  He reached in and hauled him out. Either CelHni's legs wouldn't work, or he hoped by feigning weakness to escape. He sagged into the dirt beside the car.

  Guyer and Haines stooped, caught Cellini by his arms and dragged him to his feet, supporting him. "He's about out."

  "No," said Chance, "the yellow bastard is faking." He hit Cellini in the face with the gun. The man moaned. Chance hit him again and again, not hard, but hard enough to cut.

  He beat him around the head and shoulders until the face was a mass of blood.

  Chance said coldly, "Can you still hear me, Ralph?"

  There was no response from CeUini, only the slobbering sound of his breathing.

  "I should kill you. The world would be a better place if I did. But if you were dead, Danzig would merely find another rat to do his dirty work and I'd have to do this all over again. You won't forget this night as long as you live If you ever get in my way or give us trouble again, you vdU really get it. Just remember that."

  He stood then in silence, balancing the gun in his hand as if measuring the extent of the man's injuries. He was wondering whether Cellini could hear what he said, whether the pain-ridden mind could grasp the lesson he was trying to give.

  "Okay, heave him in his car."

  They opened the door and bundled him onto the floor of the rear seat.

  "Wipe off any prints you may have left."

  Haines and Guyer used handkerchiefs to wipe the steering wheel, the doors, the dash.

  "Let's go."

  Haines got into the Buick and turned it. Chance got in beside him, Guyer in the back. They headed for the highway Haines was driving without lights He looked both ways on the main road before he turned into it. Then he snapped on his lights and increased his speed.

  "Not too fast."

  Guyer was silent in the rear seat. Haines said in an effort to break the tension, "I nearly wet my britches when that poUce car came by us."

  Chance did not answer.

  "I'U bet Celhni never comes to Vegas again."

  "He'll come," Chance said. "But he'U be a httle careful who he pushes."

  Haines looked at the gauge. "I should get some gas in Baker."

  "All right, pick the smallest station. Better to stop than to run out of gas halfway home."

  They stopped for gas. They did not get out of the car. There was blood on their clothes. When they were rolHng again Chance said, "I'll drop you at your place and take the car on out to the ranch. Joe can clean it and I'll bring it down in the morning."

  Haines nodded silently.

  "I'm not going to thank you, but I appreciate it. Both of you have jobs as long as you want to stay."

  Haines wasn't sure that he wanted to stay. After all, Cellini had seen him.

  Chance read his thoughts. "Or I'll have a friend of mine up north find you jobs in Reno."

  He dropped the men at Guyer's home on Fourth and drove on to the ranch. Every house hght was burning when he turned into the lane and he saw the Chevy parked beside the porch.

  The four of them were in the front room—Doc, Judy, Dutch and Joe. They looked silently at him, at the dried blood on his hands, the spots on his gray suit. He peeled ofiF his coat and shirt and trousers, standing in his shorts. He tossed the clothes to Joe.

  "Bum them. Judy, get my robe."

  She disappeared into his room and came back with his robe. No one had said a word.

  "I could use a drink." He went out throug
h the kitchen to the sink. Thank God they had running hot water. He washed himself thoroughly, dried his arms and hands and then put on his robe. Judy was standing beside the refrigerator, a glass in her hand. She gave it to him and he drank deeply, handed it back for a refill and went into the front room.

  Doc could stand it no longer. "Did you kill him?"

  "No."

  "Where is he?"

  "Out in the desert, this side of Barstow. Don't worry, he'U remember this night every time he looks in the mirror."

  Doc said slowly, "You should have killed him. The minute

  he gets to Danzig, they'll have a red-hot on the way to take care of you." "Maybe."

  "Maybe, hell." Doc was getting mad. "You know damn well they can't stand still and let you get away with this. Christ, tell me where you left him and I'll go out and finish the job myself."

  Chance said, "We kill him. So Danzig sends another boy, and we have to do this all over again. CeUini is a punk. And the way to handle a punk is to scare him. But Danzig is no punk, and he doesn't want a murder in Vegas any more than we do. I'm gambling that he'll figure it's more important to keep things on an even keel than to avenge Cellini."

  "Never mind," said Doc. "You aren't going to rely on that. Is he, Dutchr

  Dutch had a bottle of whisky. It was half empty. "I wouldn't."

  "So, we get you a bodyguard."

  "To hell with me. If anything does happen, it will be to Judy. We get her out of this town, now."

  The girl had been standing in the kitchen doorway. She looked suddenly scared. "Chance." She came forward to drop to her knees beside his chair. "I don't want to go away." He reached out and mussed her hair affectionately. "Look, kid, you act as if we were sending you to jail or to Siberia. We'll find a boarding school somewhere with a nice bunch of girls. They'll make you into a lady." "Who in hell wants to be a lady?"

  Dutch laughed. He had finished the bottle, and with it went some of the worry which had been knotting his guts. "That's telling him."

  Chance reached down and lifted her to her feet, pulled her onto his lap. "Honey, listen, can't you figure the angles? You're as smart as we are. If Cellini does start something and you are here, it just makes it that much tougher for us to fight him."