The Toff In New York
Page 19
“He killed Mark Quentin because he could name him as Dutch Himmy,” Valerie called, “and - and he thought Julie could, too. He killed Julie just in case she guessed, because she came to see you. He tried to make you talk, he told me all about that - he threatened to shoot you, and if you’d given just a hint that you thought you knew Dutch Himmy, he would have killed you and Dando.” Valerie could be calm and dispassionate in spite of what was happening. “Don’t let him escape, Rolly, whatever you do.”
“He won’t escape,” said Rollison.
Wilf Hall was standing where he had been put, looking about him as if he didn’t really understand what all this was about. It didn’t seem possible that a man could change so much in a few days. He shuffled forward an inch or two, and then stood still again. He kept trying to turn his head to look at Valerie, but his neck was stiff; and he seemed not to have the sense to turn round.
“He’s been defrauding Wilf for years,” Valerie went on, “and did it under cover of other men. But Wilf began to suspect, and accused him, and Russell knew it was all over unless he stopped Wilf talking. So he kidnapped Wilf.”
She stopped for breath; but only for a moment. Russell stared at the Toff and that gun, as Valerie went on gaspingly:
“He’s been telling me everything; he’s been boasting how clever he was. But Wilf began to suspect, and then Mark Quentin guessed, too. Russell told Mark if he went to the police, Wilf would be killed, so . . .
“Rolly, kill him!” Valerie cried.
It was easy to say.
It was easy for Valerie, with that unbending courage, to stand there and tell him what to do, for she didn’t fear death for herself. But it wasn’t so easy to obey. It wasn’t easy to throw away his own life, on hers, or Wilfs. Rollison simply kept Russell covered. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before the men in the other rooms found a way of getting in - they might come through the floor or ceiling, they might . . .
Never mind how; they’d find a way.
“Rolly, they’re coming,” Valerie called out, “they’ve got tear-gas, kill him now!”
If there was a chance to kill Russell, it was here. The tear-gas would put an end to all hope, once it was released. Kill Russell now, or throw away any chance that any of them had ever had.
“Rolly!” screamed Valerie.
He knew what he had to do.
He shot Russell in the right leg and the left arm, and dived forward towards the door. He saw Valerie, with hands tied behind her and a man at her side; he saw two others, with pistols which didn’t look like ordinary automatics. He shot at them as the tear-gas billowed out. He felt it sting his nostrils. He turned and ran towards the window, shooting as he went, breaking the glass, so that anyone outside would know there was trouble here. He heard confused sounds behind him, and then something hit him at the back of his head and he just fell out of consciousness, as if death had swallowed him up.
What he didn’t know was that Morris had men in the rooms across the street and that they were looking in through glasses, and getting ready to start a shooting war. He didn’t know that the police were past the staircase barricade and that by the time the shooting started, Cy Day and Morris, between them, crossed the barricade and reached the landing outside the apartment as Rollison was struck a glancing blow on the head by a bullet which should have killed him.
He didn’t know that they forced their way in.
In fact it was a long time before he realised that he was still alive. When he did, it was hazily; he was in a much worse state than he had been at the Belle Hotel. And he was kept in bed much longer.
Gradually, he began to get better.
He didn’t know it at the time, but he first recognised people five weeks afterwards; then he recognised Cy Day and Legs Leggatt, but only vaguely. He grinned before he lapsed back into a kind of coma.
Valerie Hall was with him next time.
Then, Mary Mellish.
Soon he began to feel much better. He was able to talk. He could tell which nurses he liked and which ones he wished would stay out of the ward. He began to want to know what had happened and to ask questions. It was all rather at half pressure, he wasn’t deeply interested for a long, long time.
Now, he was in a different room, pleasant and bright, overlooking the George Washington Bridge and the East River, New Jersey and, in the north, New York. It was five months after the battle in the apartment, and he knew most of what had happened now, but not everything. He knew that Russell had stood his trial as Dutch Himmy, and had been executed; that eight others had been also, and more jailed for life. He knew that Dutch Himmy had realised that there was no future in a racketeer’s life, and he had planned one final kill: a big slice of the Hall fortune.
As Hall’s accountant he had started well. He had planned to bring Hall stocks to a record low level, buy heavily through nominees, and take over, as an equal partner with Wilf Hall.
Wilf had discovered what he was plotting - but not until Valerie was on the way to New York.
Wilf was quickly taken prisoner. There had to be a good explanation to satisfy Valerie, and the ransom idea had been a part answer. Get Valerie worried, keep her worried, threaten to kill Wilf if she went to the police.
Cadey’s double-cross had got in the way, and Conway and Halloran had fallen down on their part of the job by not spotting Rollison soon enough. What Russell hadn’t realised was that Conway and Halloran wanted to get clear of Dutch Himmy, and had been waiting for a chance to fix him. Conway had known the Toff was watching, but hadn’t reported soon enough.
Then, Dutch Himmy, through his man Midge, had told Conway that he suspected a double-cross; if Conway or Halloran fell down again, they would be killed. It wasn’t surprising that Conway had been so jittery.
Russell was having the Milwest telephone calls reported by the operator. When Valerie had called from the village near the farm, she’d offered Conway a hundred thousand dollars if he would tell her where to find Wilf. Conway had told her that he believed he knew, had arranged to meet her - but had been killed, with Halloran, before he could leave the hotel.
Russell had met Valerie, in Conway’s place.
From the beginning, his one fear had been that he had been named, as a suspect, and that the police would catch up with him. With Wilf Hall a prisoner, he had known that he would have to cash in soon; he couldn’t let Wilf live. But he needed a few days to finish his frauds on the Hall Corporation - from the moment of Valerie’s arrival he had been playing for time.
Nothing had gone as he planned.
First Cadey; then Conway and Halloran had made difficulties.
Then, the Toff . . .
From the first anxiety that Wilf or Mark Quentin had named him, he had had only one concern, which became an obsession. To find out if he had been named, and who he could trust. And he wanted to establish himself with Valerie as a loyal and trusted friend of Wilf. That was why he had tried to contact her in New York - and when his own men had proved his undoing.
He hadn’t trusted Cadey, had wanted to get Valerie away from him; but Cadey had laid on the two hoodlums, whom Rollison had encountered later.
With Valerie at liberty and convinced of his, Russell’s, goodwill, Russell believed he could gain the time he needed. With the Toff to reckon with, he had posed as Wilf Hall’s trusted friend; but all the time he had doubted his own men, had gone as Russell to check on Conway and Halloran. The capture of the Toff and the interrogation on top of the Atyeo Building had been to try to make sure Wilf hadn’t named him, and to find out exactly how much the Toff had discovered.
Wilf Hall could have saved himself the ordeal had he told the police of his suspicions of Russell. But he’d been loath to do that without proof, and his discovery that Russell was Dutch Himmy had come too late. He had tried to warn Valerie by sending a message to Mark Que
ntin, but Russell’s man, Midge, had caught up with Quentin first.
Wilf was now in California, convalescing. The doctors said that it would be a year before he was really on his feet, but he’d been normal enough to sign a power of attorney, and Valerie was handling the affairs of the Atyeo Building and the Hall Trusts with guidance of others who were loyal to Hall.
That was all.
Rollison sat at the window of the pent-house, on a lounge chair, smoking, mildly intrigued by the mass of traffic going over the Bridge; at rush hours, it looked as if the Bridge had become alive with slugs of every imaginable size and colour, all wriggling at the same time. The evening sun glistened on the roofs and the windows, making a kaleidoscope of colour.
His cases were packed, and this was to be his last night in New York. It had cost him a lot and gained him a lot; for the Hall Trust had named his fee for him, and the figure had been almost astronomical.
It was very quiet.
He remembered that it had been quiet when he had been at the top of the Atyeo Building.
A bell rang.
A coloured valet, who had served him since he had arrived here, walked to the front door and, a moment later, came and said: “It’s Miss Val, sah.”
“Oh, fine,” Rollison said, and got up. He didn’t think of the weeks and the months when he had been able to get up only with an effort. He felt fit and fresh, and his eyes lit up when he saw Valerie.
She looked at her glowing best.
She wore a dark blue dress of some shimmery material, and a small white hat; blue shoes trimmed with white; white gloves; as if she had just come from the best salon in New York.
Probably she had.
“Hallo, Val,” he said; “you look wonderful.”
“I don’t feel wonderful,” Valerie said; “I don’t think I ever shall again when I look at you.”
“Now, come . . .“
“Rolly,” Valerie said firmly, “I’ve been thinking this for months, and I’ve decided that I shall have to say it or burst. As you’re sailing for home tomorrow, it has to be now.”
Rollison reached her, and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t burst,” he pleaded. “You’re much too precious.”
“Fool.”
“Yes, ma’am, but . . .“
“I insist that you keep quiet for a few minutes,” ordered Valerie; and her eyes flashed, as he remembered, and she strained away from him.
“All right,” he said. “Your turn.”
“Rolly,” said Valerie Hall with great deliberation. “I was an utter fool not to be advised by you. You were right about Brian Conway and Halloran. You were right in what you advised me to do. And you were right to tell me to stay at the farm. I was crazy. I was a self-willed, self-opinionated, half-witted little”
“Not that,” broke in the Toff, urgently. “Never!”
He expected her to flare up; instead, she laughed and relaxed a little, but went on with the same tone of deliberation.
“Well, I’ve got most of it off my chest. I’m desperately sorry for what I did, and it’s no use talking like Cy and Captain Morris - that if I hadn’t come away from the farm you might not have found Dutch Himmy and Wilf. I’m quite sure that you would have done. Quite sure. As a matter of fact, I intend to tell you exactly what I think of you.”
“Val,” pleaded Rollison, “don’t. Be fair. And if you can’t be fair, be kind.”
“Rolly,” said Valerie Hall, with a smile which told him much more than her words, “I think you’re wonderful.” She paused, and then repeated: “I think you’re wonderful. I’ll never be able to thank you, and nor will Wilf, but the fact remains that we agree about you. And please - is there anything we can do to say thanks. Anything?”
The Toff was so taken aback that he could only stare. Then he began to smile. Then he nodded. Then he put his hands on her shoulders again, and drew her close. Then he said:
“Yes, Val. Let me kiss you.”
“Let me kiss you!” she cried.
Next morning, she was at the quayside to see him off. So was Cy Day, looking as prosperous and sleek as ever, and wholly forgiving. So was Morris, with Mary and Tim Mellish, of course, and a battery of photographers and newspapermen. In all a great crowd, and, among the party which he took on board the Queen, Sikoski with a felt hat clamping down his curly hair.
Sikoski was having himself a wonderful time.
He was going to have it even better.
He was going to London with the Toff, who had promised him the services of a London taxi every minute of every one of the thirty days he was going to stay.
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
'The Baron' (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
'Department 'Z'' (28 titles)
'Dr. Palfrey Novels' (34 titles)
'Gideon of Scotland Yard' (22 titles)
'Inspector West' (43 titles)
'Sexton Blake' (5 titles)
'The Toff' (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey's account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel's Act in 1829.
'The Baron' Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
Blood Diamond (The Baron and the Beggar) (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
If Anything Happens to Hester (Black for the Baron) (1959)
Salute for the Baron (1960)
The Baron Branches Out (A Branch for the Baron) (1961)
The Baron and the Stolen Legacy (Bad for the Baron) (1962)
A Sword for the Baron (The Baron and the Mogul Swords) (1963)
The Baron on Board (The Mask of Sumi) (1964)
The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle (1964)
Sport for the Baron (1966)
Affair for the Baron (1967)
The Baron and the Missing Old Masters (1968)
The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait (1969)
Last Laugh for the Baron (1970)
The Baron Goes A-Buying (1971)
The Baron and the Arrogant Artist (1972)
Burgle the Baron (1973)
The Baron - King Maker (1975)
Love for the Baron (1979)
'Department Z' Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
The Death Miser (1932)
Redhead (1934)
First Came a Murder (1934)
Death Round the Corner (1935)
The Mark of the Crescent (1935)
Thunder in Europe (1936)
The Terror Trap (1936)
Carriers of Death (1937)
Days of Danger (1937)
Death Stands By (1938)
Menace! (1938)
Murder Must Wait (1939)
Panic! (1939)
Death by Night (1940)
The Island of Peril (1940)
Sabotage (1941)
Go Away Death (1941)
The Day of Disaster (1942)
Prepare for Action (1942)
No Darker Crime (1943)
Dark Peril (1944)
The Peril Ahead (1946)
The League of Dark Men (1947)
The Department of Death (1949)
The Enemy Within (1950)
Dead or Alive (1951)
A Kind of Prisoner (1954)
The Black Spiders (1957)
Doctor Palfrey Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Traitor's Doom (1942)
The Legion of the Lost (1943)
The Valley of Fear (The Perilous Country) (1943)
Dangerous Quest (1944)
Death in the Rising Sun (1945)
The Hounds of Vengeance (1945)
Shadow of Doom (1946)
The House of the Bears (1946)
Dark Harvest (1947)
The Wings of Peace (1948)
The Sons of Satan (1948)
The Dawn of Darkness (1949)
The League of Light (1949)
The Man Who Shook the World (1950)