The Mike Hammer Collection Part 67

He gulped and, glancing at me nervously, called, "Mary. It's a man who's had an accident. Anything I can do for you, mister? Anybody else hurt?"

The guy back there would never feel anything again. "No, n.o.body else is hurt."

"Here's the phone." His wife came out while I dialed Price's number. She tried to fuss around with a wet rag, wiping the blood off my face, but I waved her off. Price wasn't there, but I got his home number. He wasn't there, either, he had left for headquarters. The woman was too excited. I insisted that I didn't need a doctor, but let her go over my battered face with the rag, then dialed headquarters again.

Price was there. He nearly exploded when he heard my voice. "What the h.e.l.l happened? Where are you?"

"Out of town. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Are you kidding? A police reporter slipped me the news that a cop was killed south of town. I got the rest from Dilwick. You're in a jam now."

"You're not telling me anything new," I said. "Has he got the police combing the town for me?"

"Everyone on the force is out. I had to put you on the Teletype myself. All the roads are blocked and they have a cordon around York's house. Are you giving yourself up?"

"Don't be silly. I'd be sticking my head in a noose. As far as Dilwick is concerned I have to be knocked off. It's a screw pitch, pal, and I'm in it deep, but don't believe all you hear."

"You killed him, didn't you?"

"You're d.a.m.n right. If I hadn't it would have been me lying back there with my head in sections all over the ground. They squeezed me good. I was tailing Dilwick, but they got wise and tailed me. Like a d.a.m.n fool I let Dilwick lead me out in the sticks and they jumped me. What was I supposed to do, take it lying down? They didn't have orders to pick me up, they were supposed to knock me off."

"Where are you? I'll come out and get you."

"No dice, buddy, I have work to do."

"You'd better give yourself up, Mike. You'll be safer in the custody of the law."

"Like h.e.l.l. Dilwick will have me held under his jurisdiction and that's what he wants. He'll be able to finish the job then."

"Just the same, Mike . . ."

"Say, whose side are you on?"

He didn't say a word for a full minute. "I'm a policeman, Mike. I'll have to take you in."

He was making it hard for me. "Listen, don't be a sap, Price, something's come up that I have to follow."

"What?"

I glanced at the two faces that were taking in every word. "I can't tell you now."

"The police can handle it."

"In a pig's eye. Now listen. If you want to see this case solved you'll have to stay off my back as much as you can. I know something that only the killer knows and I have to use it while it's hot. If you take me in it'll be too late for both of us. You know what Dilwick and his outfit are like. So I shot one of them. That's hardly killing a cop, is it? Then don't get so upset about me blasting a cheap crook. Do you want to see this case wrapped up or not?"

"Of course."

"Then keep your boys out of this. I'm not worried about the rest."

There was another silent period while he thought it over, then he spoke. "Mike, I shouldn't do this; it's against all rules and regulations. But I know how things stand and I still want to be a good cop. Sometimes to do that you have to fall in line. I'll stay off you. I don't know how long it will be before the pressure gets put on me, but until then I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, pal. I won't run out on you."

"I know that."

"Expect to hear from me every once in a while. Just keep the calls under your hat. If I need you I'll yell for help."

"I'll be around, Mike. You'd better steer clear of York's place. That place is alive with city cops."

"Roger . . . and thanks again."

When I cradled the phone I could see a thousand questions getting ready to come my way. The guy and his wife were all eyes and ears and couldn't make sense out of my conversation. It had to be a good lie to be believed.

I shoved my badge under their noses. "You've overheard an official phone conversation," I said brusquely. "Under no circ.u.mstances repeat any part of it. A band of thieves has been operating in this neighborhood under the guise of being policemen and we almost got them. Unfortunately one got away. There's been difficulty getting cooperation from the local police, and we have been operating undercover. In case they show up here you saw nothing, heard nothing. Understand?"

Wide-eyed, their heads bobbed in unison and I let myself out through the door. If they believed that one they were crazy.

As soon as I was in the shadows I turned up the road toward York's estate. Cops or no cops I had to get in there someway. From the top of a knoll I looked down the surrounding countryside. In the distance the lights of Sidon threw a glow into the sky, and here and there other lights twinkled as invisible trees flickered between us in the night breeze. But the one I was interested in was the house a bare mile off that was ablaze with lights in every window and ringed with the twin beams of headlights from the cars patroling the grounds. Occasionally one would throw a spotlight into the bushes, a bright finger of light trying to pin down a furtive figure. Me.

The h.e.l.l with them. This was one time I couldn't afford a run-in with the bulls. I cut across the fields until the dark shape of a barn loomed ahead. Behind it was a haystack. It was either one or the other. I chose the stack and crawled in. It would take longer for the cows to eat me out than it would for some up-with-the-sun farmer to spot me shacking up with bossy. Three feet into the hay I shoved an armload of the stuff into the tunnel I had made, kicked my feet around until I had a fair-sized cave and went to sleep.

The sun rose, hit its midpoint then went down before I moved. My belly was rumbling with hunger and my tongue was parched from breathing chaff. If a million ants were inside my shirt I couldn't have felt more uncomfortable. Keeping the stack between me and the house, I crawled through the gra.s.s to the watering trough and brushed away the dirt that had settled on top of the water. If I thought that last bottle of milk was the best drink I ever had, I was wrong. When I could hold no more I splashed my face and neck, letting it soak my shirt, grinning with pleasure.

I heard the back door of the house slam and took a flying dive to the other side of the trough. Footsteps came closer, heavy, boot-shod feet. When I was getting set to make a jump I noticed that the steps were going right on by. My breath came a little easier. Sticking my head out from behind the trough I saw the broad back of my host disappearing into the barn. He was carrying a pail in either hand. That could mean he was coming over to the trough. I had it right then. Trying to step softly, I ducked into a crouch and made a dash for the darkness of the tree line.

Once there I stripped to the skin and dusted myself off with my shirt. Much better. A bath and something to eat and I would feel almost human. Sometime during the night my watch had stopped and I could only guess at the time. I put it at an arbitrary nine thirty and wound it up. Still too early. I had one cigarette left, the mashed, battered remains of a smoke. Shielding the match I fired it up and dragged it down to my fingernails. For two hours I sat on a stump watching a scud of clouds blot out the stars and feeling little crawling things climb up my pants leg.

The bugs were too much. I'd as soon run the risk of b.u.mping into a cordon of Dilwick's thugs. When my watch said ten after eleven I skirted the edge of the farm and got back on the road. If anyone came along I'd see them a mile away. I found my knoll again. The lights were still on in York's house, but not in force like they had been. Only one pair of headlights peered balefully around the grounds.

An hour later I stood opposite the east wall leaning over the edge of a five-foot drainage ditch with my watch in my hands. At regular six-minute intervals the outlines of a man in a slouch hat and raincoat would drift past. When he reached the end of the wall he turned and came back. There were two of them on this side. Always, when they met at the middle of the wall, there would be some smart retort that I couldn't catch. But their pacing was regular. Dilwick should have been in the Army. A regular beat like that was a cinch to sneak through. Once a car drove by checking up on the men and tossing a spot into the bushes, but from that angle the ditch itself was completely concealed by the foot-high weeds that grew along its lip.

It had to be quick. And noiseless.

It took the guy three minutes to reach the end of the wall, three minutes to get back to me again. Maybe three-quarters of a minute if he ran. When he pa.s.sed the next time I checked my watch, keeping my eyes on the second hand. One, two, two and a half. I gripped the edge of the ditch. Ten seconds, five . . . I crouched . . . now! Vaulting the ditch I ducked across the road to the wall. Ten feet away, the tree I had chosen waved to me with leafy fingers. I jumped, grabbed the lowest limb and swung up, then picked my way up until I was even with the wall. My clothes caught on spike-like branches, ripped loose, then caught again.

Feet were swishing the gra.s.s. Feet that had a copper over them. This was the second phase. If he looked up and saw me outlined against the sky I was sunk. I palmed the .45 and threw the safety off, waiting. They came closer. I heard him singing a tuneless song under his breath, swearing at briars that bit at his ankles.

He was under the tree now, in the shadows. The singing stopped. The feet stopped. My hand tightened around the b.u.t.t of the gun, aiming it where his head would be. If he saw me he was held in his tracks. I would have let one go at him if I didn't see the flare of the match in time. When his b.u.t.t was lit he breathed the smoke in deeply then continued on his rounds. I shoved the gun back and put the watch on him again until it read another three minutes.

b.u.t.ton your coat . . . be sure nothing was going to jingle in your pockets . . . keep your watch face blacked out . . . hold tight . . . get ready . . . and jump. For one brief moment I was airborne before my fingers felt the cold stone wall. The corner caught me in the chest and I almost fell. Somehow I kicked my feet to the top and felt broken gla.s.s cemented in the surface shatter under my heels. Whether or not anybody was under me, I had to jump, I was too much of a target there on the wall. Keeping low I stepped over the gla.s.s and dropped off.

I landed in soft turf with hardly a sound, doubled up and rolled into a th.o.r.n.y rosebush. The house was right in front of me now; I could pick out Roxy's window. The pane was still shattered from the bullet that had pierced it and nicked her.

Ruston's window was lit, too, but the shade was drawn. Behind the house the police car stopped, some loud talking ensued, then it went forward again. No chance to check schedules now. I had to hope that I wasn't seen. Just as soon as the car pa.s.sed I ran for the wall of the building, keeping in whatever cover the bushes and hedgerows afforded. It wasn't much, but I made the house without an alarm going off. The wrist-thick vine that ran up the side wasn't as good as a ladder, but it served the purpose. I went up it like a monkey until I was just below Roxy's window.

I reached up for the sill, grabbed it and as I did the d.a.m.n brick pulled loose and tumbled down past me, landing with a raucous clatter in the bushes below and then bounced sickeningly into other bricks with a noise as loud as thunder in my ears. I froze against the wall, heard somebody call out, then saw a bright shaft of light leap out from a spot in someone's hand below and watched it probe the area where the brick had landed.

Whoever he was didn't look up, not expecting anyone above him. His stupidity was making me feel a little better and I figured I had it made. I wasn't that lucky. There was too much weight on the vine and I felt it beginning to pull loose from wherever it was anch.o.r.ed in the wall above my head.

I didn't bother trying to be careful. Down below a couple of voices were going back and forth and their own sounds covered mine. I scrambled up, reached and got hold of an awning hook imbedded in the concrete of the exterior frame of the window and hung on with one hand, my knee reaching for the sill before I could pull the hook out of the wall.

Down below everybody was suddenly satisfied and the lights went out. In the darkness I heard feet taking up the vigil again. I waited a full minute, tried the window, realized that it was locked then tapped on the pane. I did it again, not a frantic tapping, but a gentle signaling that got a response I could hear right through the gla.s.s. I hoped she wouldn't scream, but would think it out long enough to look first.

She did.

There was enough reflected light from a bed lamp to highlight my face and I heard her gasp, reach for the latch and ease the window up. I rolled over the sill, dropped to the floor and let her shut the window behind me and pull down the blind. Only then did she snap on the light.

"Mike!"

"Quiet, kid, they're all over the place downstairs."

"Yes, I know." Her eyes filled up suddenly and she half ran to me, her arms folding me to her.

Behind us there was a startled little gasp. I swung, pushed Roxy away from me, then grinned. Ruston was standing there in his pajamas, his face a dead white. "Mike!" he started to say, then swayed against the doorjamb. I walked over, grabbed him and rubbed his head until he started to smile at me.

"You take it easy, little buddy . . . you've had it rough. How about letting me be the only casualty around here? By the way, where is Billy?"

Roxy answered. "Dilwick took him downstairs and is making him stay there."

"Did he get rough with him?"

"No . . . Billy said he'd better lay off or he'd get a lawyer that would take care of that fat goon and Dilwick didn't touch him. For once Billy stood up for himself."

Ruston was shaking under my hand. His eyes would dart from the door to the window and he'd listen attentively to the heavy footsteps wandering down in the rooms below. "Mike, why did you come? I don't want them to see you. I don't care what you did, but you can't let them get you."

"I came to see you, kid."

"Me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"I have something big to ask you."

The two of them stared at me, wondering what could be so great as to bring me through that army of cops. Roxy, quizzically; Ruston with his eyes filled with awe. "What is it, Mike?"

"You're pretty smart, kid, try to understand this. Something has come up, something that I didn't expect. How would you like to point out the killer for me? Be a target. Lead the killer to you so I can get him?"

"Mike, you can't!"

I looked at Roxy. "Why not?"

"It isn't fair. You can't ask him to do that!"

I slumped in a chair and rubbed my head. "Maybe you're right. It is a lot to expect."

Ruston was tugging at my sleeve. "I'll do it, Mike. I'm not afraid."

I didn't know what to say. If I missed I'd never be able to look at myself in the face again, yet here was the kid, ready and trusting me not to miss. Roxy sank to the edge of the bed, her face pale, waiting for my answer. But I couldn't let a killer run around loose.

"Okay, Lancelot, it's a deal." Roxy was hating me with her eyes. "Before we go over it, do you think you can get me something to eat?"

"Sure, Mike. I'll get it. The policemen won't bother me." Ruston smiled and left. I heard him going down the stairs, then tell the cop he was hungry and so was his governess. The cop growled and let him go.

Roxy said, "You're a louse, Mike, but I guess it has to be that way. We almost lost Ruston once, and it's liable to happen again if somebody doesn't think of something. Well, you did. I just hope it works, that's all."

"So do I, kid."

Ruston came running up the stairs and slipped into the room, bearing a pair of enormous sandwiches. I all but s.n.a.t.c.hed them out of his hand and tore into them wolfishly. Once, the cop came upstairs and prowled past the door and I almost choked. After he went by, the two of them laughed silently at me standing there with my rod in my hand and the remains of a sandwich sticking out of my mouth.

Roxy went over and pressed her ear to the door, then slowly turned the key in the lock. "I suppose you'll leave the same way you came in, Mike, so maybe that'll give you more time if you have to go quickly."

"Gee, I hope nothing happens to you, Mike. I'm not afraid for myself, I'm just afraid what those policemen will do. They say you shot a cop and now you have to die."

"Lancelot, you worry too much."

"But even if you find out who's been causing all the trouble the police will still be looking for you, won't they?"

"Perhaps not," I laughed. "They're going to be pretty fed up with me when I bust this case."

The kid shuddered, his eyes closed tightly for a second. "I keep thinking of that night in the shack. The night you shot one of those men that kidnapped me. It was an awful fight."

I felt as though a mule had kicked me in the stomach. "What did you say?"

"That night . . . you remember. When you shot that man and . . ."

I cut him off. "You can get off that target, Ruston," I said softly. "I won't need you for a decoy after all."

Roxy twisted toward me, watching the expression in my eyes. "Why, Mike?"

"I just remembered that I shot a guy, that's why. I had forgotten all about it." I jammed on my hat and picked up a pack of Roxy's b.u.t.ts from the dresser. "You two stay here and keep the door locked. I can get the killer, now, by d.a.m.n, and I won't have to make him come to me either. Roxy, turn that light off. Give me five minutes after I leave before you turn it on again. Forget you ever saw me up here or Dilwick will have your scalp."

The urgency in my voice moved her to action. Without a word in reply she reached out for the light and snapped it off. Ruston gasped and moved toward the door, with the slightest tremor of excitement creeping into his breathing. I saw him silhouetted there for an instant, a floor lamp right in front of him. Before I could caution him the shade struck him in the face. His hand went out . . . hit the lamp and it toppled to the floor with the popping of the bulb and the crash of a fallen tree. Or so it seemed.

Downstairs a gruff voice barked out. Before it could call again I threw the window up and went out, groping for the vine. Someplace in the house a whistle shrilled and angry fists beat at the door. Half sliding, half climbing, I went down the side of the building. Another whistle and somebody got nervous and let a shot blast into the confusion. From every side came the shouts and the whistles. Just before I reached the ground a car raced up and two figures leaped out. But I was lucky. The racket was all centered on the inside of the house and the coppers were taking it for granted that I was trapped there.

As fast as I could go, I beat it across the drive to the lawn, then into the trees. Now I knew where I was. One tree ahead formed the perfect ladder over the wall. I had my gun out now in case that patrol was waiting. There would be no command to halt, just a volley of shots until one of us dropped. All right, I was ready. Behind me a window smashed and Roxy screamed. Then there was a loud "There he goes!" and a pair of pistols spit fire. With the trees in the way and the distance opening between us, I wasn't concerned about getting hit.

The tree was a G.o.dsend. I went up its inclined trunk thanking whatever lightning bolt had split it in such a handy fashion, made the top of the wall and jumped for the gra.s.s. The sentries weren't there anymore. Probably trying to be in on the kill.

A siren screamed inside the wall and the chase was on, but it would be a futile chase now. Once in the tree line on the other side of the road I took it easy. They'd be looking for a car and the search would be along the road. So long, suckers!

CHAPTER 11.