12 Chinks and A Woman (8 page)

     Fenner studied the toes of his shoes. “You got a mob if I wanted one?”
     Noolen came and sat down. “I've gotta mob,” he said cautiously, “but they're not in the same class. They'd be scared to start anything.”
     Fenner grinned. “Not when Carlos starts to slip. That's when your mob's got to go to work.”
     Noolen clasped his hands. There was a long silence while he brooded. Then he said, “You're playin' a tricky game. Suppose I have a little talk with Carlos.”
     Fenner shrugged. “Why should you? You've got everything to gain by just sittin' on your can waitin' for me to clean up the town.”
     “Okay. Then go ahead. I'll come in when I see you gettin' somewhere. Don't think you're going to clean my territory, because you ain't. One move from you I don't like, an' I'll clamp down on you.”
     Fenner got to his feet. “We won't worry about that for a little while,” he said. “There'll be plenty of time to take care of that angle later.”
     Noolen looked up at him suspiciously. “I don't trust you, Ross, you're too cagey.”
     “Who's Thayler?” Fenner asked abruptly.
     “Thayler? What's he to you?” Noolen's eyes were suddenly hot and intent.
     “Saw his boat this afternoon. Swell job. Heard he came out here. Thought I'd like to look him over.”
     Noolen got up and walked to the door. “He's out there now.”
     Fenner followed him into the main hall. “Show him to me,” he said. “I want to meet him.”
     Noolen wandered through the crowd, looked right and left, then said, “He's playin' on the third. The guy sittin' next to the blonde twist.”
     Fenner saw the girl. She looked fine sitting there. The soft light reflected on her red-gold hair, making deep shadows of her eyes and making her red lips glisten. She was wearing a black dress that fitted her too well.
     Fenner said, “Who's the frill?” He said it very casually.
     “Glorie Leadler. She's good, isn't she? The best of her is under the table.” The blood had mounted in Noolen's face, and his blue eyes were watery. Fenner looked at him curiously. Noolen went on, “You'll have to wait if you want to meet Thayler. He won't want to be interrupted.”
     “That's all right. This Leadler girl, what is she?” Noolen turned his head and looked at Fenner. “Why the excitement?”
     “Why not? She's a riot, ain't she?”
     Noolen sneered. “I'll leave you for a little while. I've got things to do,” he said, and walked away.
     Fenner looked after him, wondered what it was all about, and walked over to the small bar at the other end of the room. He ordered a rye and ginger and leaned against the bar. From where he stood he could just see Glorie's head and shoulders. He looked at Thayler and studied him, a big man with a very sunburnt complexion and black crinkly hair. His china-blue eyes and his long thin nose made him look handsome.
     When Fenner glanced at Glorie again he found she was looking at him. Fenner regarded her thoughtfully, wondering at the uncanny likeness. If this dame wasn't Marian Daley's sister, then he was a three-legged horse.
     Thayler leaned over a little and spoke to her, and she started. Fenner couldn't be sure, but he thought she had smiled at him. He thought maybe it had been a trick of the light, but it certainly had seemed that she'd given him a come-hither. He watched her closely, but she didn't look in his direction again. He stayed there for several minutes, then he saw her speak to Thayler, and stand up. Thayler looked angry and put his hand on her wrist, but she shook her head, laughed at him and walked away from the table. Thayler screwed his head round to watch her, then turned back to the table again.
     She came over to the bar. There were two other men standing close by, and the small Cuban manager. Fenner said, “Drinking alone is a vice. Will you have one with me?”
     She didn't look at him, but opened her small bag and took out a ten dollar bill. “I like vice,” she said softly, and ordered a gin sling. She stood with her back three-quarters to him. He could just see the lobe of her ear and the strong line of her chin.
     Fenner finished his rye and ginger quickly and signaled the bartender for another. He studied her back thoughtfully, wondering. When the bar tender put his order down on the polished wood, and had gone away, he said, “Miss Leadler, I want to talk to you.”
     She turned her head. “Me?”
     “Yeah. That's your name, ain't it?” Yes.” Her gaze began to embarrass him. He had a sudden uncomfortable feeling that she was seeing him naked. No one had ever given him that feeling before, and it confused him.
     “My name's Ross. I'm staying at the Haworth. I want—” He broke off.
     Thayler was coming over fast. A heavy scowl darkened his face, and he came up to the bar with long quick strides. He said to Glorie, “For God's sake, can't you just drink?”
     Glorie laughed at him. She said in a clear voice, “I think he's marvelous. I think he's absolutely incredibly marvelous.”
     Thayler looked uneasily at Fenner. “Cut it out, Glorie,” he said under his breath.
     She went on. “He's the most beautiful thing I've seen. Look at his arms Look at the size of them. Look at the set of his neck—the way he holds his head.”
     Fenner took out his handkerchief and wiped off his hands. He finished his drink. The Cuban manager was watching him, a cold look of contempt on his face.
     Thayler said savagely, “You don't have to rave about his arms or his neck. I know what you're raving about all right.”
     “Ask him to have a drink. He's cute. Do you know what he said to me? He said, 'Drinking alone is a vice.'“ Glorie turned her head and smiled at Fenner.
     Thayler said to Fenner, “Get out of here, you dope.”
     Glorie giggled. “Be friendly. You're making him embarrassed. That's no way to talk to a lovely man like that.”
     Fenner said, “Watch yourself, playboy! you're a little too soft to talk big.”
     Thayler made a move, but the Cuban manager slid between them. He said something to Thayler in a low voice. Thayler looked at Fenner over the top of the Cuban's head, his face was flushed with suppressed rage; then he turned, took Glorie by the wrist and walked out of the room.
     Fenner said to the Cuban, “Case of hot pants?”
     The Cuban said, “Maybe you'd better go, too,” and turned away.
     Fenner stood thinking, then he snapped his fingers and left. He ran through the lobby, out into the black night. A cab shot up to the entrance and the driver swung the door open. Fenner said, “Waterfront, fast,” and climbed into the cab.
     Although the cab went fast, Thayler was already on board the
Nancy W.
when Fenner arrived. Fenner saw the light in the cabin flash as he paid off the cab driver. He looked hastily up and down the deserted waterfront, then ran along the jetty and climbed on board. Moving quietly, he reached the cabin. By lying full length, he could look down through the glass panel which was half open.
     Glorie was standing in the middle of the cabin, rubbing her wrist and looking at Thayler, who was leaning against the door. “It's time we had a showdown,” he said. His voice came quite clearly to Fenner. “I've been a sucker long enough.”
     Glorie turned her back on him. “Once I get out of here,” she said unevenly, “I never want to see you again.”
     Thayler went over to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. His hands shook so that the liquor slopped on the polished surface. “I've done a hell of a lot for you,” he said. “It's always the same. I know you're like that, but can't you try? That's what gets me, you don't even try.”
     Glorie moved round the room. She reminded Fenner of a caged animal.
     “I'm sorry for you,” Thayler said.
     She spun round. “You're crazy. Do you think your sorrow means anything to me?”
     “No one's sorrow has ever meant anything to you. You haven't any feeling, anyway.”
     “Yes, I have.”
     “Not that sort of feeling.”
     Thayler held the glass in his hand very tightly. Fenner could see his knuckles were white. “After this, I'm through with you. I'm not going to have another evening like this one.”
     Glorie laughed suddenly. “I'm sending you away, not you sending me. Shall I tell you why?”
     “I'm sick of hearing it. I know it backwards.”
     Glorie said spitefully, “No, you don't. It's because you're no good. You never were any good and I waited and waited, hoping you'd get used to me, because you
looked
good. But you're a flop. You don't know anything about it. You only think you do.”
     Thayler put his glass carefully on the table. He walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His face was very white. “You know that's a damn lie, don't you?” he said.
     She flung his hands off. “You're hoping it's a lie, aren't you? You want to save some of your silly little pride.”
     He moved forward and, reaching out, he ripped the front of her dress down to her waist. She threw up her hands. “What are you going to do?” she said, her voice suddenly hoarse. “You going to beat me again? That's all you're any good at, isn't it? You can't take a woman like any other man, you've got to do other things.”
     Fenner pushed his hat to the back of his head and moved a little further forward.
     Thayler stood very still, looking at Glorie. Fenner could see he was trembling. He said at last in a low, jerky voice, “I think I'll kill you for that.”
     She shook her head. “Try loving me instead,” she said. Thayler clenched his fists and took a step towards her. “Get out!” he said wildly. “Get out!”
     She put her hand to her waist, loosened a catch and dropped the dress around her feet. She walked across the cabin to the big divan in the corner of room. She sat down, and crossing her leg, undid the suspender and rolled down her stocking. She looked up at him. “Show me I'm wrong ” she said, and giggled.
     Fenner drew away from the cabin roof and stood up.
     “Well, I'll be damned,” he said unsteadily, and turning, he left the boat and headed for his hotel.

     
     
     Fenner was in Nightingale's workroom, watching the little man staining a box, when Reiger came in.
     Reiger said, “We got a job for you. I'll pick you up here at eight o'clock.”
     Fenner lit a cigarette. “What's the job?”
     “You'll see.”
     “Listen, Reiger. You ain't gettin' that way with me. Either you work with me or to hell with it. What's the job?”
     Reiger scratched the side of his mouth with his thumbnail. “We've got a consignment of Chinks. We're bringin' them over tonight.”
     Fenner said, “Okay, I'll be here.”
     Reiger went out.
     “Friendly guy that,” Fenner said to Nightingale. “Somehow, I don't think he an' I hit it off.”
     Nightingale looked worried. “You're handlin' that guy wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “He's mean. You'd better watch him.”
     Fenner drummed on the top of a coffin-lid with his fingers. “I'll watch him all right,” he said. He nodded to Nightingale and went downstairs. Curly was sitting at the desk writing in a ledger. She looked up hopefully as he went past.
     Fenner paused. “Hyah, baby,” he said. “That's a nice face and figure you're wearin' this mornin'.”
     Curly opened her big eyes. “Gee!” she said. “I don't get much of that syrup.”
     “Never mind. It comes as a nice surprise when you do.”
     Curly nibbled the top of her pen. She looked at him with thoughtful eyes.
     “You're in this now?” she said.
     Fenner nodded.
     “Seen Pio?”
     “I've seen him.”
     Curly sighed. “Ain't he a beautiful guy?”
     “I wouldn't call him that. You don't think a lot of him, do you?”
     Curly said bitterly, “What does it matter what I think?”
     Fenner had a sudden idea. He sat on the edge of her desk. “Wait a minute, baby, don't get that way. Carlos mean anythin' to you?”
     Curly said, “No guy means anything to me. You keep your nose out of my business, will you?” Her eyes told him quite a lot.
     He stood up and grinned. “Sure, sure,” he said. “Don't get me wrong. I thought maybe you'd like to put your curly little head on my shoulder an' tell me all your troubles.”
     “Well, you're wrong,” she snapped. “I've got no troubles.”
     Fenner grinned again and went into the street. So that's the way it is, he thought. Curly had gone soft on Carlos and was getting nowhere. It was tough to fall for a little rat like Carlos.
     He walked for some time through the narrow streets, retracing his steps, going into a bar for a short drink, and all the time checking to find out if anyone was tailing him. When he was satisfied no one was, he headed downtown again.
     When he reached the Federal Building, he loitered outside, keeping a close watch on the street; then he ducked into the building and took the elevator to the Federal Field Office.
     The Federal Agent was named Hosskiss. He stood up behind his desk and offered a moist hand.
     Fenner shook hands and sat down heavily in the chair opposite Hosskiss. He took some papers out of his inside pocket and handed them over. “The name's Fenner. Here's my license that permits me to operate as a private investigator. I'm on business for a client down here, and I want you to know some facts.”
     Hosskiss examined the papers, frowned, and then said, “Fenner? You the guy who broke the Blandish kidnapping case?”
     Fenner nodded.
     “"Well, that's fine,” Hosskiss grinned. “I used to know Brendan. He told me all about it. Why, sure, if I can help you I'll be glad.”
     “I can't give you all the facts, but I'm looking for a girl. Somehow or other Carlos is tied up to the business. I've got an introduction to Carlos which was a fake and I've got a hook-up with his gang. I want you to know about this because I don't want to run foul of your boys. Tonight I'm going with Reiger to collect a cargo of Chinks. We are due to leave around eight o'clock. I thought maybe you'd like to hear about that.”
     Hosskiss blew out his cheeks. “Hell,” he said, “you don't seem to know what sort of an outfit you're bucking. Listen, if Carlos hears about this you'll be cat's meat. That guy is the most dangerous rat on the coast.”
     Fenner shrugged. “I know that,” he said. “I was careful. I don't think anyone spotted me coming here. Why haven't you clamped down on that gang?”
     “No evidence. We know what his game is, but we've never caught him at it. We've got airplanes and boats watching the coast, but he seems to slip through easily enough. Once we did catch up with him, but he hadn't anythin' on board. They're a tough gang. I'm betting they dumped the aliens overboard as soon as they saw our boat heading towards them.”
     Fenner scratched his head. “If you catch up on us tonight, you've got to let me out somehow. It's Reiger I'd like to see in a cage, but I've got to be in the clear so I can carry on with my investigation.”
     Hosskiss said, “I'll fix that for you. You wouldn't like to tell me what it's all about?”
     Fenner shook his head. “Not right now,” he said cautiously. “I guess maybe I'll need your help for the final clean-up, but all I want now is for you to keep me in the clear if trouble comes my way.” He stood up.
     Hosskiss shook hands. “You don't know your course for tonight?”
     Fenner shook his head. “No,” he said; “you'll have to find us.”
     “We'll find you all right. I'll have the Strait lousy with boats.”
     Out in the street again, Fenner went on to the waterfront and picked up Bugsey. They went on to the Flagler Hotel.
     Carlos was by himself when they entered No. 47. He nodded to them. He said to Bugsey, “Go outside and rest yourself.”
     Bugsey looked surprised, but he went out. Carlos looked at Fenner. Then he said, “Why did you go to Noolen's joint the other night?”
     Fenner said, “I'm workin' for your mob, but I don't have to play with them, do I?”
     Carlos said, “You didn't play. You went into Noolen's office—why?”
     Fenner thought quickly. Carlos was standing very still, his hand hovering near the front of his coat. “I did go in to play, but Noolen sent for me an' told me to clear out. He didn't want any of your mob in his joint,” Fenner said.
     Carlos said, “You tried to talk with the Leadler woman—why?”
     “Why not?” Fenner thought this was getting on dangerous ground. “Any guy would try for a frill like that. She was on her own, so I thought we might get friendly. What do you know about her?”
     Carlos's eyes snapped. “Never mind about that. I don't like the way you're acting, Ross. Both those stories come too easy. I think I'll watch you.
     Fenner shrugged. “You're losing your nerve,” he said contemptuously. “You ain't scared of Noolen?”
     Carlos jerked his head. “You can go,” he said, and walked to the window.
     Fenner went out thoughtfully. This guy wasn't such a dope as he'd thought. He would have to play his cards carefully. He said to Bugsey, “I'll he with you in a second. I wanna phone my hotel an' tell 'em I won't be in tonight.
     He shut himself in a booth and called Noolen. Bugsey hung about outside. Fenner said, keeping his voice low, “Noolen? Ross speakin'. Listen, Carlos has got a plant at your gambling house. He knew you an' me had a talk, and he knew other things. That Cuban manager of yours—had him long?”
     “Two months.” Noolen's voice sounded worried. “I'll check up on him.”
     “Yeah,” said Fenner grimly, “I'd get rid of that guy quick,” and he hung up. He walked out of the booth and took Bugsey's arm. “We'll go an' take things easy,” he said. “Looks like I'll have a little hard work tonight.”
     Bugsey went with him. He said in a low, confidential voice, “I gotta date myself.” He closed his eyes and smiled.
      
     Fenner showed at Nightingale's two minutes before eight. Reiger and Miller were already there. Miller was greasing a sub-machine-gun. They both looked up as Fenner followed Nightingale into the workroom.
     Fenner said, “I smell rain.”
     Reiger grunted, but Miller said in a false, friendly way, “That's what we want, rain.”
     Nightingale said to Fenner in a low voice, “You got a rod?”
     Fenner shook his head.
     Nightingale went over to a drawer and took out a big automatic. Reiger jerked up his head. “He don't want a rod.”
     Nightingale took no notice. He handed the gun to Fenner. Reiger seemed to get quite excited. “I tell you he don't want a rod,” he said, standing up.
     Fenner looked at him. “Give it a haircut,” he said, “I feel safer with a rod.”
     They stared at each other, then Reiger shrugged and sat down again.
     Nightingale gave a peculiar smile. “You given up packing a rod?” he said to Fenner. “They tell me you're dynamite with a trigger.”
     Fenner balanced the automatic thoughtfully in his hand. “I get by,” was all he said.
     Miller looked at the small watch that seemed out of place on his thick wrist. “Let's go,” he said. He wrapped the machine-gun in his dust-coat and picked up his hat.
     Reiger moved to the door. Nightingale said softly to Fenner: “Watch those two birds.”
     There was a big sedan parked outside the Funeral Parlor. Reiger got under the driving-wheel, and Fenner and Miller got in behind. Fenner waved his hand to Nightingale as the car slid away. He caught a glimpse of Curly watching behind Nightingale. He could just make out the blurred outline of her face.
     He said to Miller: “Carlos never comes on these runs, does he?”
     “Why should he?” Miller said shortly.
     Reiger swung the car south. “You're always askin' questions, ain't you?” he said.
     They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got down to the waterfront they left the car parked and walked rapidly down to the line of small shipping. A tall Negro and Bugsey were waiting alongside a forty-foot boat. As soon as the Negro saw them coming he climbed aboard and disappeared into the engine-room. Bugsey stood ready to cast off.
     Reiger said, while Miller climbed aboard, “You don't do anythin' until they come alongside. Then you gotta watch them as they come aboard. Not one of these Chinks must have guns. The safest way to deal with them is to make them strip as they come on board. It takes time, but it's safe. If you think one of them's got a rod, take it off him. If he looks like startin' anything, give it to him. Miller will take them from you and put them in the forward cabin.”
     Fenner said, “Sure,” and followed Reiger on board. Bugsey cast off and tossed the bowline to Reiger. He waved his hand to Fenner. “Nice trip,” he said.
     The Negro started the engines and the boat began to shudder a little. Miller was already down in the cockpit, his hand on the wheel.
     Reiger said, “All right—let her go,” and the boat began to show her heels.
     Reiger went over to the small but powerful searchlight on the foredeck. He squatted down behind it and lit a cigarette. His back was intent and unfriendly, and Fenner didn't bother to follow him. He climbed down into the cockpit with Miller and made himself comfortable.
     “What time will you pick these guys up?” he asked Miller.
     “Around about ten, I guess.”
     As the boat headed for the open sea, it grew suddenly chilly, and a drizzling rain began to fall. There was no moon and the visibility was bad.
     Fenner shivered a little and lit a cigarette. Miller said, “You get used to these trips. If you feel cold go into the engine-room. It'll be warmer there.”
     Fenner stayed with Miller a little longer, then he went off to the engine-room. He noticed Reiger still sitting behind the searchlight, immovable.
     The boat bounced a good bit in the rough, and Fenner suddenly lost interest in smoking. The Negro didn't say a word. Now and then he rolled his eyes at Fenner, but he didn't say anything.
     After some time, Miller yelled and Fenner joined him. Miller pointed. An intermittent flash of light came from a long way off. Miller had altered the course and the boat was running directly toward the light. “I guess that must be our man,” he said.
     Reiger suddenly switched on his searchlight, and almost immediately he snapped it off again.
     Very faintly Fenner heard the drone of an aeroplane. He smiled in the darkness. Miller heard it too. He bawled to Reiger, “There's a plane coming.”
     Reiger stood up and looked up into the blackness overhead. Then he hurriedly put out the running lights. The boat went on through the curtain of blackness.
     Miller said savagely, “These goddam coast guards give me a pain.”
     The aeroplane droned on, then, after a few minutes, faded away. Reiger flashed on the searchlight again, let the beam cut the darkness and then turned it off. The other light kept on flickering. It was drawing nearer and nearer.
     Miller handed Fenner a torch. “Go forward,” he said; “we're nearly there.”
     Fenner took the torch and climbed out of the cockpit. He felt the boat roll as Miller cut speed.
     Reiger, who was standing well forward, shouted, “Kill it,” and with a flurry the engines stopped. Reiger came over to Fenner, walking carefully as the boat rolled and heaved. “Get your rod out,” he snapped, “and watch these guys.” He was holding the sub-machine-gun. “I'll pass them to you. Make sure they ain't got guns, then pass them to Miller.'
     They both stared into the inky blackness. Reiger flashed on a small torch suddenly. He had heard the creak of oarlocks.
     A small rowboat came bobbing towards them. Fenner could see four men huddled in it and two men at the oars, then Reiger put his lamp out.
     “Keep your ears back for that aeroplane,” Reiger muttered to Fenner.. Then, as the rowboat bumped gently alongside, he put his lamp on again.
     A thin scraggy Chinaman came aboard. “I got four here,” he said to Reiger. “I'll bring the others in four lots.”
     “What about the special?”
     “Sure, sure, I'll bring the special last.”
     Reiger said to Fenner. “Okay, let's start.”
     Fenner stepped back and waited. The Chinamen came on board one by one. Reiger counted them, letting only one come at a time, waiting for Fenner to pass them to Miller, who directed them to the forward cabin. Each Chinaman wore the same clothes, tight shirts and knee-length trousers. They stood sheeplike before Fenner, who patted them down and shoved them over to Miller.
     Two more boatloads came out and it all took some time. The scraggy Chinaman, who had stood on the right-hand side of Reiger while this was going on, said, “Okay, that's the lot. I'll go back for the special now.”
     Reiger said to Miller, “You locked those Chinks in?” His voice sounded uneasy to Fenner.