by Peter Rabe
“Get out!” and he could feel the fine spray of spit, the face was that close.
It woke him up. There was always that last ounce of strength.
Benny went to the table and poured himself a drink. His hand was shaking just a little, but he poured it. He drank the whisky neat, watching Alverato stand by. Perhaps Pendleton had been right about Big Al. A noisy hangover from another time, riding on the coattails of old Ager, a machine gun in each hand.
“I got something to sell.”
“You have-” Alverato wasn’t so fast any more. He was still staring.
“How much are you paying?”
“Listen, punk, I pay what it’s worth. What are you selling?”
“About the Italy contact. How much?”
“Punk, learn something. Big Al never pulled a double-cross. If it’s worth something, I pay plenty. But first I gotta see.”
“A thousand on account, Al. I never double-cross, either.”
“A deal.”
Benny stepped closer and talked. “There’s a lodge up in the mountains. Pendleton goes there once, twice a year. Nobody used to go there but him and me driving. He hasn’t been there for a year. I was still driving him, now and then. The old keeper up there knows me, he hasn’t heard the latest.”
“Come on, come on, what’s up there?”
“It’s a safe, Al. I know where it’s hidden. No money in it-just papers and a notebook with a lock. I’ve seen it from the door. I’ve seen him hold the thing when he made his phone calls, some of them abroad, and everybody had to leave the room when he made-”
“All right, all right” Alverato walked to a porthole and looked out Then he turned.
“It’s a deal; you go up there. See me tomorrow at nine. One of the boys will pick you up at the pier.”
Chapter Six
They started for the mountains at ten in the morning. Smiley drove and Benny sat in back. He had his arms folded and wasn’t talking.
“Mr. Tapkow?”
“Call me Benny.”
“Sure thing, Benny. You got any idea what kind of a safe it is?”
“That’s your department. All I know, it’s in the wall.”
“Sure thing, Benny.”
They drove a while.
“Benny, is it round or square? You remember?”
“Round.”
“Oh. I guess that means-”
“Say, Smiley, how about thinking to yourself? This isn’t the wrong kind of job for you, is it?”
“Oh, no, Benny. I’ve studied with the best.”
“So drive.”
“Sure thing, Benny.”
They drove for two hours and turned into the mountains. After that came a gravel road that wound through the woods.
The big gate came without warning. Benny got out, stopped at the left gatepost, and felt the mortared crevices between the big stones. One of them swung out and showed a telephone.
Benny talked, and then the gates swung open. They drove through, up the winding road, and stopped at the porch of the lodge. There was an old man on the steps and he was carrying a shotgun.
“Come on out and show yourselves,” he called.
They did.
“Mr. Benny! I sure am glad to see you again. And who might that be by your side?”
“That’s Smiley, Mr. Huston. A new man.”
“Mr. Pendleton never said nothin’ about him comin’ out.”
“That’s why he’s with me. It’s O.K., Huston, you can put that pepper-grinder down.”
“Well, come on up, then, but Mr. Pendleton never said nothin’ about no Smiley comin’ out here. In fact, Mr. Pendleton never said nothin’ about comin’ out this month at all, except maybe.”
Benny walked up to the old man. He sounded casual. “He said maybe, huh? He didn’t say any more than that, did he?”
“He said maybe, young feller. Don’t you know what he’s planning to do? Don’t you-Hey, what’s that Smiley feller fixin’ to do there?”
Huston took a step down from the porch, watching Smiley pull a long black satchel and a small oxygen tank out of the car. “I think I better-” and that’s as far as he got. Benny had stepped behind the old man and with a swift, efficient swing sapped him on the back of the head. Huston sank into himself and rolled down the wooden stairs.
Benny led the way through the big living room, through the kitchen, and into a pantry. He opened two cabinet doors-one on the bottom, one to the left-and then he pushed against the molding of the doorframe.
One of the pantry shelves started to hum and move, and there was the safe; small, round, flush in the wall.
Smiley took one look, dropped his tools, and went to work with his fingers.
First Benny watched. Then he went outside, came back. “You getting anywhere, Smiley?”
“Yeah.”
“How much longer?”
“Not much.”
Benny stood by. He was tapping his foot.
“Benny, for chrissakes, stand someplace else. You’re making me nervous.”
“Keep working.”
Smiley straightened up and turned. “I don’t know if you know anything about this business, Tapkow, but I need to concentrate. So stop tapping your foot, huh?”
Smiley worked again. Benny was fidgeting his hat around, pushing it deep over his eyes.
“Look, Smiley…”
“You can stop twitching. Here she comes.” He yanked the safe open.
“O.K. Everything.” Benny’s voice came like a hiss. “Stuff ‘em in your pocket. You dropped some. The notebook-give it to me. O.K., now let’s blow. The hell with the tools. Leave ‘em.”
“I don’t leave my tools, Tapkow.”
“You damn well-” He stopped. First they heard it and then they both saw it. The pantry shelf was sliding, slowly creeping back into place, pushing the open safe door until the lugs hit the steel rim of the safe and everything stopped.
“You brought a helpmate, Tapkow,” said the polite voice.
They turned quickly and saw the gaunt man in the dark suit. He stood by the pantry door, one hand in the pocket of his narrow-shouldered coat, the other on the molding of the door.
“Pendleton!” Benny’s voice was pure hate.
The man’s face started to smile, as if it pained him, but his close-set eyes never changed.
With a sudden movement Benny tossed the satchel at Pendleton and broke into a run. He dashed to the door leading into the kitchen, Smiley following close behind. They circled around the long table, ran through another door, down a hall, and into a study with tall French doors that gave onto the terrace.
Pendleton hadn’t moved. He didn’t have to. Before the two men were halfway across the study, they saw the short guy with the. 45, and it was between them and the terrace outside. When they turned back there was another one. They stopped.
Nobody moved while the slow, precise sound of creaking shoes came down the hall. The door opened and Pendleton came in.
“Tapkow,” he said, “will you step into the hall, please?”
Benny moved when the gun jabbed into his back. The man with the gun followed.
Pendleton stepped aside to let them pass.
“Go halfway down the hall, Tapkow, and there you will find one of the papers. You dropped it in your haste. Pick it up, bring it back, and put it on the piano.”
Benny did.
“Your friend’s name is Smiley, I believe? Smiley, step over to the piano, empty your pockets of everything you stole from the safe, and put it with the paper already there. And you, Tapkow, do the same.”
They did. Again Benny wasn’t afraid of Pendleton, afraid for his life, scared of the crazy vengeance that Pendleton might take, but he could see another chance run out. And that, to Benny, was like death.
Smiley stood close by, fumbling in his pockets. There was sweat on his upper lip, and he licked it.
“Is this it?” he whispered close to Benny’s face.
“You needn’t
whisper.” Pendleton’s voice came clear and close. He was standing behind them. “To answer your question, this is not it. Finish what you are doing and I will allow you to return to Alverato. Alive, in case you are worried. You will return to Alverato and tell him that I resent his crude attempts at forcing this issue. You will tell him that I am not interested in the least in any further business dealings with him. And now that you are finished, turn around and head out of that door.”
Pendleton stepped aside and the two men turned. Smiley was still licking the sweat off his lip and Benny’s face was drawn with a stubborn hope. Perhaps-His sleeve caught in the frame of a small picture that stood on the piano. With an irritated gesture he pulled his arm and the thing flew to the floor. In the confusion, his heel came down on the glass, breaking it and grinding the splinters into the portrait.
Pendleton had not said a word.
The gunmen filed after Tapkow and Smiley, and Pendleton followed last, closing the doors as he went. They walked out of the study, through the solarium, into a dining room, then through the big living room and out on the porch.
“Stop.” Pendleton’s voice was precise. “Go to the car, Smiley. Tapkow, you stand where you are.”
When Smiley was in the car, Pendleton waved to one of his men.
“On the floor,” Pendleton said.
The gunman took Benny from behind and broke him to the ground. Then Pendleton stepped up. He looked down. His foot jarred out, making a sickening thump as it dug into Benny’s stomach. Benny convulsed, groaned, and then he passed out with his breath making a gagging sob.
He woke through a red fog of pain. The next thing he noticed was the cold sweat on his face, and then the voices.
“…still think it’s best up here.”
“You couldn’t do much better for privacy.”
Benny hadn’t recognized them, but he knew the next voice. “Except for the caretaker. He is conscious now and I prefer that he not hear any shots.” Then the voice was closer to Benny. “You awoke in time,” said Pendleton, “to witness your exit.”
Benny saw the rafters of the porch, the three faces. There was a hot cramp in his stomach, and he wasn’t aware of much else.
“We’ll do it here,” Pendleton said. He was not looking at Benny any more. “We will stop a little farther down the road, and you, Ludlow, will attend to the matter. Can you manage it without the gun?”
“Sure, Mr. Pendleton.”
“When he’s dead, bring him back to the car. In the trunk, I’d say.”
They all looked at Benny, on the floor, and Ludlow nodded. “In the trunk,” he said.
“Tapkow, can you walk?”
With senseless automatism he started to raise himself on one elbow. He swallowed the gasping pain, got to his knees, rested.
“Come on, Tapkow, you can make it.”
He could. He even walked to the car, where one of the men held the door for him. He almost said thanks when they gave him a hand through the door.
It was nice to sit on the cushiony seat The inside of the car was warm and Benny felt like sleeping a little. Only the motion of the car gave him discomfort.
Then he started, because Pendleton had been speaking.
“Before you are dead, you should know why I punished you before. There is always a reason for my actions. You were guilty of disrespect The picture you broke was of my daughter.”
Benny had never been a man who hated much. But now a concentrated strength seemed to come to him, and that, he knew, was hate.
The car moved down the road, then stopped. Benny was sitting as before. When Ludlow opened the door and waved at him with his gun, Benny got out, reached back for his hat, and walked ahead of Ludlow as he was told. He did not look back at Pendleton, in the car, or at the driver, who was opening the trunk.
“Stop,” Ludlow said, and Benny stopped. He turned around.
Ludlow stood hunched just beyond arm’s reach and he was shifting the heavy gun to hold it by the barrel. Apparently he was to be clubbed to death.
“I didn’t say nothing about turning around.” Ludlow, built like an ape, shifted the gun back into shooting position.
Benny stood and eyed the man.
“I’ll make a hole in ya regardless,” Ludlow said, “so better turn around.”
Benny turned around, listening for the movements behind him. Ludlow hadn’t moved.
“Now take off yer hat.”
“You take it off, monkey boy.”
“Why-” Ludlow controlled himself and shifted the gun again, handle up. Benny heard it.
With a sudden crouch Benny took a step forward and stopped. He had figured it right. Ludlow couldn’t have stopped him with a swing of the gun, and only now was the barrel pointing at him again. But Benny wasn’t moving any more. And three feet ahead of him there was a tree.
“Funny man,” Ludlow was saying, “I almost drilled ya.”
Benny didn’t answer because he was listening. There were the slow steps of Ludlow, who was dragging his feet over the noisy forest floor. The sound stopped, very close behind, and again, Benny heard the slight scrape as Ludlow shifted the gun to make it a club.
“Take off yer hat.”
“Crap,” Benny said.
He heard the angry grunt and, not moving, the heave as Ludlow reared up for the swing. He had been close enough for it until Benny shot forward. He lunged ahead to crash into the tree, where he held himself with both arms, head slightly turned.
It must have looked good to Ludlow. The crazy runt had knocked himself silly and was hanging by the tree.
Benny waited the split second it took for Ludlow to charge, and when the gun came down it just grazed the crown of his hat.
From there on it went the other way. Ludlow’s wrist was in Benny’s hand and then the trick with the levered pull over one bent knee. Ludlow’s arm snapped. Before his scream could tear loose, two steel-trap claws clamped down on his neck, and through the thrashing and rolling they never let go until the blue face was dead. Benny left him there.
He walked through the underbrush with the gun in his hand, and when the tall car appeared through the leaves his teeth were clamped with hate.
He started firing too soon. The magazine was empty when he tossed the gun down, screaming after the car whose open trunk lid was dipping wildly as it lurched down the road.
Chapter Seven
It had come to him when Pendleton had explained about the kick in the stomach. That was before they took him into the woods to die.
It had meant Ludlow’s death before Benny ever got his hands on that throat, and now it was with him, big and real like a dream come true. It was a clincher, a plan that meant big time.
When Benny got to the place where Alverato kept an apartment, it was seven in the evening. He rang the bell and there was the redhead again. The gown she was wearing was held up by nothing but nature.
“Why, the shofer!” she said, and stepped aside.
When Benny was in, she closed the door. “You wait here,” she said. “I gotta go and finish dressing.”
Benny watched her leave and thought she’d better. He stood in the empty foyer and waited. Then Alverato came.
He was wearing a black tuxedo and the stone in his shirt front made little blue flashes. Alverato stopped and banged the door behind him.
“I thought you was dead.”
It was just a remark. No question, no welcome, just a remark and a cold face.
Benny looked back at the big man and tugged at his hat. “I got something you’ll want to hear.”
“Yeah? About how you got kicked in the stomach?”
“I’m serious, Al.”
“Oh. It’s about how you got away from the big bad wolf or something and then snuck away to tell about it.”
Benny bit his lip and made his voice sound quiet. “This is big, Al. I can get Pendleton over a barrel.”
“I know that. Like the last time. Now blow. It’s after working hours.”
; “Al, you’ve got to listen to me. I-”
“Tapkow, you sonofabitch, you goofed!” It was a roar, then another door opened and two goons came in. One of them was Birdie. Alverato nodded at him and left by the door through which the redhead had gone.
Birdie’s. 45 looked at Benny’s stomach. It walked closer. It was as simple as that, and Benny left. They closed the door after him.
At eleven in the evening the street was empty. It had drizzled a little and there were little puddles in the gutter. Benny worked his damp shoulders and looked through the glass door into the empty foyer.
When the elevator door slid open Big Al came down the long carpet with the redhead on his arm and three sour-looking hoods were making a procession of it. A fourth was leading the way, Birdie, wearing his padded suit like a uniform.
When they came out on the street Benny stepped forward, but the small guy was already in front of him, the cannon tucked close under Benny’s ribs. “Crowd this guy,” he said, and three hoods rushed over, pushing Benny flat against the wall. He couldn’t move.
“See if he’s clean.”
He was.
“Over to the alley.”
They started to move in a body when Benny caught Alverato’s eye.
“Al, you’ve got to listen. Tell these bird dogs to stop a minute and listen to what I’ve got.”
They kept on moving while Alverato looked at him as if he were a bug. The redhead giggled.
“Al!” It was a yell.
He hung on to his chance like a dog that had to be dead before he’d let go.
They had him almost at the alley now and Benny couldn’t even turn to see where Alverato stood in the doorway.
“Whyn’tcha let him talk?” asked the redhead.
“Bah.”
“The car isn’t here yet, baby boy. We’re just standing around doing nothing.”
They were going around the corner of the building.
“Why don’tcha, hon?”
“Bring him back,” Alverato called.
This time they let him walk by himself and Benny ran to the entrance, his face a grimace of intensity.
“Al, listen, I’ll talk fast. This is how you can get Pendleton and get him forever. We can get him in the only place where it hurts. He has-”