The Real Cool Killers Part 23

"What the h.e.l.l!" he said, looking from one to the other. "What the h.e.l.l's going on."

Grave Digger's muscles relaxed as though he'd lost consciousness.

"It's just me, Ed," he said, looking up from the ground at his friend. "I just lost my head, is all."

"Let him go," Anderson ordered his helpers. "He's back to normal now."

The cops released Grave Digger and he got to his feet.

"Cooled off now?" the homicide lieutenant asked.

"Yeah. Give me my gun," Grave Digger said.

Coffin Ed looked down at Ready Belcher's b.l.o.o.d.y head.

"You too, eh, partner," he said. "What did this rebel do?"

"I told him if I caught him holding out on me I'd kill him."

"You told him no lie," Coffin Ed said. Then asked, "Is it that bad?"

"It's dirty, Ed. Galen was a rotten son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"That doesn't surprise me. Have you got anything on it so far?"

"A little, not much."

"What the h.e.l.l do you want here?" the chief said testily. "I suppose you want to help your buddy beat up some more of your folks."

Grave Digger knew the chief was trying to steer the conversation away from Coffin Ed's daughter, but he didn't know how to help him.

"You two men act as if you want to kill off the whole population of Harlem," the chief kept on.

"You told me to crack down," Grave Digger reminded him.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean in front of my eyes where I would have to be a witness to it."

"It's our beat," Coffin Ed spoke up for his friend. "If you don't like the way we handle it why don't you take us off."

"You're already off," the chief said. "What in the h.e.l.l did you come back for, anyway?"

"Strictly on private business."

The chief snorted.

"My little daughter hasn't come home and I'm worried about her," Coffin Ed explained. "It's not like her to stay out this late and not let us know where she is."

The chief looked away to hide his embarra.s.sment.

Grave Digger swallowed audibly.

"h.e.l.l, Ed, you don't have to worry about Eve," he said in what he hoped was a rea.s.suring tone of voice. "She'll be home soon. You know nothing can happen to her. She's got that police ID card you got for her on her last birthday, hasn't she?"

"I know, but she always phones her mother if she's going to stay out."

"While you're out here looking for her she's probably gone home. Why don't you go back home and go to bed? She'll be all right."

"Jones is telling you right, Ed," the chief said brusquely. "Go home and relax. You're off duty and you're in our way here. Nothing is going to happen to your daughter. You're just having nightmares."

A siren sounded in the distance.

"Here comes the ambulance," Lieutenant Anderson said.

"I'll go and phone home again," Coffin Ed said. "Take it easy, Digger. Don't get yourself docked, too."

As he turned and started off a fusillade of shots sounded from the upper floor of some nearby tenement. Ten shots from regulation .38 police specials were fired so fast that by the time the sounds had reached the street they were chained together.

Every cop within earshot froze to alert attention. They strained their ears in almost superhuman effort to place the direction from which the shots had come. Their eyes scanned the fronts of the tenements until not a spot escaped their observation.

But no more shots were fired.

The only signs of life left were the lights going out. With the rapidity of gun shots, one light after another went out until only one lighted window remained in the whole block of darkened dingy buildings. It was behind a fire-escape landing on the top floor of the tenement half a block up the street.

All eyes focused on that spot.

The grotesque silhouette of something crawling over the window sill appeared in the glare of light. Slowly it straightened and took the shape of a short, husky man. It staggered slowly along the three feet of grilled iron footing and leaned against the low outer rail. For a moment it swayed back and forth in a macabre pantomime and then, slowly, like a roulette ball climbing the last hurdle before the final slot, it fell over the railing, turned in the air, missed the second landing by a breath. The body turned again and struck the third railing and started to spin faster. It landed with a resounding thud on top of a parked car and lay there with one hand hanging down beside the driver's window as though signaling for a stop.

"Well, G.o.d d.a.m.n it, get going!" the chief shouted in stentorian tone. Then, on second thought, he added, "Not you, Jones. Not you!" and ran toward his car to get his megaphone.

Already motion had broken out. Cops were heading toward the tenement like the Marines landing.

The two cops guarding the entrance ran out into the street to locate the scene of the disturbance.

The chief grabbed his megaphone and shouted, "Get the lights on that building."

Two spotlights that had been extinguished were turned back on immediately and beamed on the tenement's top floor.

A patrolman stepped from the window onto the fireescape landing and raised his hands in the light.

"Hold it, everybody!" he shouted. "I want the chief! Is the chief there?"

"Lower the lights," the chief megaphoned. "I'm here. What is it?"

"Send for an ambulance. Petersen is shot --"

"An ambulance is coming."

"Yes sir, but don't let anybody in here yet--"

Grave Digger took hold of Coffin Ed's arm.

"Hang on tight, Ed," he said. "Your daughter's up there."

He felt Coffin Ed's muscles tighten beneath his grip as the cop went on, "We found Pickens but one of the Moslem gangsters grabbed Pete's pistol and shot him. He used his buddy as a shield and I got his buddy but he s.n.a.t.c.hed one of the girls here and escaped into the back room. He's locked himself in there and there's no other way out of this shotgun shack. He says the girl is Detective Ed Johnson's daughter. He threatened to cut her throat if he can't talk to you and Grave Digger Jones. Whatcha want me to do?"

The ambulance approached and the chief had to wait until the siren had died away to make himself heard.

"Has he still got Petersen's pistol?"

"Yes, sir, but he emptied it."

"All right, Officer, sit pat," the chief megaphoned. "We'll get Petersen down the fire escape and I'll go up and see what it's all about."

Coffin Ed's acid-burnt face was hideous with fear.

16.

"You stay down here, Johnson," the chief ordered. "I'll take Anderson and Jones."

"Not unless you shoot me," Coffin Ed said.

The chief looked at him.

"Let him come," Grave Digger said.

"I ought to come too; I know the flat," the sergeant said.

"It's my job to come," the lieutenant from homicide said.

"Who the h.e.l.l's running this police department," the chief said.

"We haven't got any time," Grave Digger replied.

All of them went quickly and quietly as possible. No one spoke again until the chief said through the kitchen door, "All right, I'm the chief. Come out and give yourself up and you won't get hurt."

"How do I know you're the chief?" asked a fuzzy voice from within.

"If you open the door and come out you'll see."

"Don't get so mother-raping smart. You're the chief, but I'm the Sheik."

"Well, all right, you're a big-shot gang boss. What do you want?"

"Keep him talking," Coffin Ed whispered. "I'm going up on the roof."

"Who's that with you?" Sheik asked sharply.

Grave Digger pointed to the sergeant and Lieutenant Anderson.

"The precinct lieutenant and a sergeant," the chief said.

"Where's Grave Digger?"

"He's not here yet. I had to send for him."

"Send those other mother-rapers away. Let's you and me settle this, the Sheik and the Chief."

"How will you know if they're gone if you're scared to come out and look?"

"Let 'em stay then. I don't give a good G.o.ddam. And don't think I'm scared. I don't need to take any chances. I got Coffin Ed's daughter by the hair with my left hand and I'm holding a razor-edged butcher knife against her throat with my right hand. If you try to take me I'll cut her motherraping head off before you can get through the door."

"All right, Sheik, you got us by the short hair, but you know you can't get away. Why don't you come out peaceably and give yourself up like a man. I give you my word that no one will abuse you. The officer you shot ain't seriously hurt. There's no other charge against you. You ought to get off with five years. With time off for good behavior, you'll be back in the big town in three years. Why risk sudden death or the hot seat just for a moment of playing the big shot?"

"Don't hand me that mother-raping c.r.a.p. You'll hang a kidnapping charge on me for s.n.a.t.c.hing your prisoner."

"What the h.e.l.l! You can keep him. We don't want him anymore. We found out he didn't kill the man. All he had was a blank pistol."

"So he didn't kill the man?"

"No."

"Who killed him?"

"We don't know yet."

"Soyou don't know who killed the big Greek, do you?"

"All right, all right, what's that to you? What do you want to get mixed up in something that doesn't concern you?"

"You're one of those smart mother-rapers, ain't you? You're going to be so smart you're going to make me cut her mother-raping throat just to show you."

"Please don't argue with him, Mr. Chief, please," said a small scared voice from within. "He'll kill me. I know he will."

"Shut up!" Sheik said roughly. "I don't need you to tell 'im I'm going to kill you."

Beads of sweat formed on the ridge of the chief's red nose and about the blue bags beneath his eyes.

"Why don't you be a man," he urged, filling his voice with contempt. "Don't be a mad dog like Vincent Coil. Be a man like Dillinger was. You won't get much. Three years and no more. Don't hide behind an innocent little girl."

"Who the h.e.l.l do you think you're kidding with that stale c.r.a.p. This is the Sheik. Can't no dumb cop like you make a fool out of the Sheik. You got the chair waiting for me and you think you're going to kid me into walking out there and sitting in it."