I felt a little better. I took my hands away and reached for the last butt in the pack. "It won't break until you get the stuff. You and the whole staff up in Washington can work from now until ten years later and you won't make a hole in the organization big enough to stop it. You'll knock it kicking but you won't kill it. Slowing it down a little is all we can hope for. They're going to hang on to Velda until somebody has that four million bucks lined up.
"I'm the target, chum. Me personally. I've scared the crap out of those guys as individuals... not as an organization. They know I don't give a damn what happens to the outfit, the dough or anything that goes with it. All I want is a raft of hides nailed to the barn door. That's where I come in. I'm the little guy with a grudge. I'm the guy so damn burned up he's after a man, not an organization. I'm the guy who wants to stand there and see him die and he knows it. He wants that consignment of narcotics in the worst way but before it does him any good I have to die first.
"So they're holding Velda. She's the bait and she's something else besides. I've been getting closer to this than anybody else and they've known something I never got wise to. Berga passed the clue to me before she died and I've been sitting on it all this time. For a little while they had it, but they couldn't make it out. They expect me to. When I do I'll have to use it to ransom Velda with it."
"They're not that dumb, Mike," Pat told me.
"Neither am I. Someplace the answer slapped me in the teeth and I was in such a hurry I missed it. I can feel the damn thing crawling around in my head and can't lay my finger on it. The damn arrogant bastards... "
Pat said, "The head is pretty far from the body." "What?"
He looked out the window and watched the rain. "They can afford to be arrogant. The entire structure of the Mafia is built on arrogance. They flaunt the laws of every country in the world, they violate the integrity of the individual, they're a power in themselves backed by ruthlessness, violence and some of the shrewdest brains in existence."
"About the head and the body, I mean.
"We can smash the body of this thing, Mike, but in this country the head and the body aren't connected except by the very thin thread of a neck. The top man, men, or group is a separate caste. The organization is built so that the head can function without the body if it comes to it. The body parts can be assembled any time, but it's an assembly for the benefit of the head, never forget that. It's a government. The little people in it don't count. It's the rulers who are important and the government is run solely for their benefit and to satisfy their appetites. They're never known and they're not going to be known."
"Unless they make one stinking little mistake," I said.
Pat stopped looking at the rain.
I rubbed the ache out of my side. "The stuff is on the Cedric. All you have to do is find the ship. The records will carry the stateroom Raymond used. When you find it call Ray Diker at the Globe and give him first crack at the details of the yarn. Tell him to hold the story until I call you. By then I'll have Velda."
"Where are you going?"
"The last time you asked that I said I was going out to kill somebody." I held out my hand. "Gimme a fin."
He looked puzzled, scowled, then pulled five ones out of his pocket. I laid two of them on the counter and nodded to the counterman to come get it. He was all smiles.
"Where's Michael Friday?"
"She said she was going to your place to see you."
"I wasn't home."
"Well, she's not reporting to me on the hour."
"No police guard?"
His frown got bigger this time. "I tried to but she said no. One of the feds pulled out after her anyway. He lost her when she got in a cab."
"Sloppy."
"Lay off. Everybody's up to their ears in this thing."
"Yeah. You going to trace the Cedric?"
"What do you think. Where are you going?"
I let a laugh out that sounded hollow as hell. "I'm going out in the rain and think some more. Then maybe I'll go kill somebody else."
I could see Pat remembering the other years. Younger years when the dirt seemed to be only on the surface. When being a cop looked good and the law was for protection and guidance.
When there weren't so many strings and sticky red tape and corruption in high places.
His hand went into his pocket and brought out the blued .38. He handed it to me under the shelf of the hanger. "Here, use this for a change."
And I remembered what Velda had said and I shook my head. "Some other time. I like it better this way."
I went out and walked down the street and let the rain hit me in the face. Someplace there was a gimmick and that was what I had to find. I reached the subway kiosk, bought a pack of Luckies and dropped them in my pocket. I waited for the uptown local and got aboard when it came in.
With every jolt the train took I could feel the shock wear off a little bit more. It got worse and when it was too bad I stood up and leaned against the door, watching the walls of the tunnel go by in a dirty blur.
A gimmick. One lousy little gimmick and I could have it. It was there trying to come out and whenever I thought I had it my stomach would retch and I'd lose it.
The train pulled into the station, opened its multitude of mouths but I was the only one who stepped out. I had the platform all to myself then, so I let go and the coffee came up.
There weren't any cabs outside. I didn't waste time waiting for one. I walked toward my apartment not conscious of the rain any more, hardly conscious of the protest my body was setting up. I felt my legs starting to go when I reached the door and the super and his wife took a startled look at me and helped me inside.
Lily Carver came up out of the chair, holding back the sharp intake of her breath with the back of her hand. Her eyes went soft, reflected the hurt mine were showing, then she had my hand and helped me into the bedroom.
I flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. Hands loosened my collar and pulled at my shoes. I could hear the super telling his wife to stay out, and hear her frightened sobs. I could hear Lily and feel her hands on my forehead. For a second I glimpsed the white halo of her hair and saw the sensuous curves of her body in hazy detail hovering over me.
The super said, "You want me to call a doctor, Mr. Hammer?" I shook my head.
"I'll call a cop. Maybe...
I shook my head again. "I'll be okay."
"You feel good enough to talk a minute?"
"What?" I could feel the sleep closing in as I said it.
"A woman was here. Friday, her name was. She left you a note in an envelope and said it was pretty important. She wanted you to see it as soon as you came in."
"What was in it?"
"I didn't look. Should I open it?" "Go ahead."
The bed jounced as he got up. It left me rocking gently, a soothing motion of pure comfort and there was a heaviness under my closed eyes too great to fight. Then the bed jounced again as he sat down and I heard the tearing of paper.
"Here it is." His voice paused. "Not much in it though."
"Read it," I said.
"Sure. `Dear Mike... I found the list. Your friend has it. I found something much more important too and must see you at once. Call me. Please call me at once. Love Michael.' That's all there is to it, Mr. Hammer."
"Thanks," I said, "thanks a lot."
From the other room his wife set up a nervous twittering. His fingers touched me. "Think it'll be all right if I go back?" Before I could nod Lily said, "Go ahead. I'll take care of him.
Thank you so much for everything."
"Well... if you need me, just call down." "I'll do that."
I got my eyes open one last time. I saw the smooth beauty of her face unmarred by anything now. She was smiling, her hands doing things to my clothes. The strange softness was back in her eyes and she whispered, "Darling, darling... "
The sleep came. There was a face in it. The face had a rich, wet mouth, full and soft. It kept coming closer, open
ing slowly. It was Michael and in my dream I grinned at her, fascinated by her lips.
Chapter Twelve
You hurt too much to sleep. You wake up and it hurts more so you try to go back to sleep. There's a physical ache, a gnawing your body tries vainly to beat down and might have if the pain in your mind wasn't even worse. Processions of thoughts hammer at you, gouge and scrape until the brain is a wild thing seeking some kind of release. But there isn't any release. There's fire all around you, the tongues of it licking closer, needling the skin. The brain screams for you to awaken, but if you do you know the other things . . the thoughts, will be more searing pain so you fight and fight until the mind conquers and you feel the awakening coming on.
I thought I heard voices and one was Velda's. She kept calling to me and I couldn't answer back. Somebody was hurting her and I mouthed silent curses while I fought invisible bonds that held me tied to the ground. She was screaming, her voice tortured, screaming for me and I couldn't help her. I strained and kicked and fought but the ropes held until I was breathless and I had to lie there and listen to her die.
I opened my eyes and looked into the darkness, knowing it was only a dream but going nuts because I knew it could be real. My breathing was harsh, laboring, drying my mouth into leathery tissue.
The covers were pulled up to my neck, but under them there was nothing. The skin over my bruised muscles felt cool and pliable, then I found the answer with the tips of my fingers as they slid along flesh that had been gently oiled with some aromatic unguent. From somewhere the faint clean odor of rubbing alcohol crossed my nostrils, disturbing because of its unusual pungent purity. It was the raw smell of fine chemistry, the sharp, natural smell you might expect, but don't find in fresh, virgin forests.
Slowly, waiting for the ache to begin, I pulled my arm free, laid it across the bed, felt the warmth of a body under the back of my hand, then jerked it away as she almost screamed and pulled out of reach to sit there bolt upright with eyes still dumb with sleep reflecting some emotion nobody in the world would be able to put his finger on.
"Easy, Lily... It's only me."
She let her breath out with more of a gasp than a sigh, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes. "You... scared me, Mike. I'm sorry." She smiled, sat on the edge of the bed and put her shoes on.
Her dreams must have been pretty rough too. She had taken care of me, lay there while I slept until her eyes closed too. She was a good kid who had been through the mill and was scared to death of a return trip. She wasn't going to get it from me.
I said, "What time is it?"
Lily checked her watch. "A little after nine. Can I get you something to eat?"
"What happened to the day?"
"You slept through. You groaned and talked... I didn't want to wake you up, Mike. Can I get you some coffee?"
"I can eat. I need something in my gut."
"All right. I'll call you." Her mouth creased in a smile, one corner of it pulling up with an odd motion. I let my eyes drift over her slowly. As they moved her hands tightened at her throat and the strangeness came back in her face. The smile disappeared into a tight grimace and she twisted around to go out the door.
Some of them are funny, I thought. Beautiful kids who would do anything one minute and scared stiff of doing it the next.
I heard her in the kitchen, got up, showered, managed to get the brush off my face and climbed into some clean clothes. I could hear things frying when I got on the phone and dialed Michael Friday's number.
The voice that answered was deep and guarded. It said, "Mr. Evello's residence," but the touch of Brooklyn in the tone was a plain as the badge it wore.
"Mike Hammer. I'm looking for Michael Friday, Carl's sister. She there?"
"I'm afraid..."
"Is Captain Chambers there?"
It caught the voice off base a second. "Who'd you say this was?"
"Hammer. Mike Hammer."
There was a muffled consultation, then: "This is the police,
Hammer, what did you want?"
"I told you. I want Friday." "So do we. She isn't around."
"Damn!" It exploded out of me. "You staked out there?" "That's right. We're covering the place. You know where the girl is?"
"All I know is that she wants to see me bad, feller. How can I reach Chambers?"
"Wait a minute." The phone blanked out again and there was more talk behind a palm stretched over the mouthpiece. "You gonna be where you are a while?"
"I'll be here."
"Okay, the sergeant here says he'll try to get him for you. What's your number?"
"He knows it. Tell him to call me at home."
"Yeah. You get anything on that Friday dame, you pass it this way.
"No leads?"
"No nothing. She disappeared. She came back here after she left headquarters the other day, stayed a couple of hours and grabbed a cab into Manhattan."
"She was coming to see me," I said.
"She was what!"
"I was out. She left a note and took off again. That's why I called her place."
"I'll be damned. We checked all over the city to find out where she went to."
"If she's using cabs maybe you can pick her up from when she left here."
"Sure, sure. I'll pass it along."
The phone went dead and I socked it back in its hanger. Lily called me from the kitchen and I went out and sat down. She had it ready on the table, that same spread like she thought I was two more guys and instead of it looking good my stomach tried to sour at the sight of it. All I could think of was another one gone. Another kid cut down by a pack of scrimy hoods who wanted that two million bucks' worth of hell so bad they'd kill and kill and kill until they had every bit of it.
I smashed my fist into the table, saying the same dirty words over and over until Lily's face went a pasty white and she backed against the wall. I was staring into space, but she was occupying the space ahead of me and whatever she saw going across my face made her shrink back even further.
How stupid were they? How far did they have to go? Wasn't their organization big enough to know every damn detail inside and out? They wouldn't be reaching the stuff now, not with the cops going over every inch of the Cedric. The whole shebang was coming apart at the edges and instead of piling up the counts against them they ought to be on the run.
Lily slid out of sight. She came up against me and reached out her hand until it was on my shoulder. "Mike..."
I looked at her without seeing her.
"What is it, Mike?"
The words started out of me. They came slow at first, then turned into a boiling current that was taking in the whole picture. I was almost finished with it when I could feel the sharp points of the gimmicks sticking out and ran my mind back to pick them up. Then I sat and cursed myself because I wasn't fast enough. They weren't there any more.
There was just one minor little detail. Just a little one I should have thought of long ago. I said to Lily, "Did you go to see Berga Torn in the sanitarium at all?"
Her eyebrows knit, puzzled. "No, I didn't." She pinched her lower lip between her teeth. "I called her twice and the second time she mentioned that someone had been to see her."
I was half out of my chair. "Who? Did she say who?"
She tried hard for it, reaching back through the days. "I think she did. I honestly didn't pay any attention at the time. I was so worried about what was happening it didn't register."
I had her by the shoulders, squeezing my fingers into her skin. "The name's important, kid. That somebody tipped the whole thing. Right then was the beginning of murder that hasn't ended yet. As long as you got that name in your head a killer is going to be prowling around loose and if he ever knows you might have it you're going the same way Berga did."
"Mike."
"Don't worry about it. I'm not letting you out of my sight for a minute any more. Damn it, you got to dig that name out. You understand that?"
"I... think I do. Mike,
please... you're hurting me."
I took my hands down and she rubbed the places where they had bitten in. There were tears in the corners of her eyes, little drops of crystal that swelled and I took a step closer to her. I reached out again, more gently this time, close enough for a second to taste the faint crispness of rubbing alcohol.
Lily smiled again. It was like the first time. The kind of smile you see on the face of a person waiting for death and ready to receive him almost gratefully. "Please eat something, Mike," she whispered.
"I can't, kid. Not now."
"You have to have something in your stomach."
Her words sent something racing up my back. It was a feeling you get when you know you have something and you can't wait to get it out of you. You stand there and wait for the final answer, waiting, waiting, waiting.
It was there in my hand when the phone set up a jangling that wouldn't stop. I grabbed the extension and Pat barked a short hello. I asked him, "Did you find Friday?"
He held his voice down. He sat on it all the way but the roughness showed through anyway. "We didn't find a damn thing. Nothing, got that? No Friday, no jug of hop, no nothing. This town's a madhouse. The feds are cutting a swath through the racket a mile wide and we still haven't come up with the stuff. Mike, if that stuff sits there..."
"I know what it means."
"Okay then, are you holding anything back?" "You know better."
"Then what about Friday? If she was up there..." "She wanted to see me. That's all I know." "You know what I think?"
"I know what you think," I repeated softly. "Billy Mist... where's he?"
"You'd never guess."
"Tell me."
"Right now he's having supper at the Terrace. He's got an alibi for everything we can throw at him and nobody's going to break it for a damn long while. He's got people in Washington batting for him and boys with influence pulling strings so hard they're knocking us silly... Mike..."
"Yeah?"
"Find Velda?"
"Not yet, Pat. Soon."
"You're not saying it right, friend."
"I know."
"In case it makes you feel better, I put men on it." "Thanks."
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