Fast Buck (21 page)

‘I don’t know. It’s about a quarter of a mile back.’

Swearing softly, Baird trod on the gas pedal. The Packard surged forward. He held it steady at seventy miles an hour, but they didn’t lose the fol owing car. Another couple of miles took them across the State line. Ahead of them lay the little town of Brentwood; beyond Brentwood, another thirty miles along the highway, was Lincoln Falls.

Brentwood was in darkness as Baird drove along the main street. It was now a little after two o’clock.

At the far end of the street he saw the lights of a solitary all-night café.

‘Maybe they have a phone here,’ he said, slowing down. ‘Get Kile and tel him we should have Hater out in three days. Tell him to bring the dough to that place of his.’

He pulled up a few yards from the café, parking the car in the shadows.

As Rico got out of the car, they both looked back along the main street. There was no sign of the following car.

‘Maybe he’s turned off his headlights and is coming the rest of the way on foot,’ Baird said, and his hand slid inside his coat and closed around the butt of the Colt. ‘You fix Kile. Tell him to make sure he isn’t being tailed. Tel him about Dal as. He’s got to be certain no one’s tailing him when he comes to collect Hater. I’l fix this guy. You get going.’

Baird watched Rico enter the café, then he moved silently away from the Packard and took up a position in a dark doorway, where he had a clear view of the street. He waited some minutes before his sharp ears told him someone was coming. He looked towards the sound, but couldn’t see any movement.

Out of the darkness came a soft scrape of shoe leather on rough ground, then he caught sight of a dark shape by the Packard.

This shamus knew his job, he thought grudgingly. He had sneaked up to within thirty yards of Baird without Baird spotting him.

Baird didn’t move. The dark, shadowy figure crept up to the Packard, satisfied himself there was no one in it, and moved silently into the light coming from the café. Baird saw the big, fleshy man who had been following him in the Lincoln.

MacAdam was jumpy. He remembered what had happened to Burns, but he had to find out what these two were up to. He knew the risk he was taking. This might be a trap, but with any luck he might have fooled them into thinking they had lost him. He moved forward to peer through the café window.

Apart from an elderly man lounging behind the counter, the café appeared to be empty, then MacAdam spotted Rico in a pay booth. There was no sign of Baird, and realising Baird could very easily be out there somewhere in the darkness, he looked quickly over his shoulder.

Baird was right behind him: the big Colt steady in his hand.

‘Get your hands up,’ Baird said softly. ‘One false move’l be your last.’

MacAdam raised his hands.

‘What’s the trouble?’ he asked. ‘I was just going in there…’

‘Shut up!’ Baird said. ‘You don’t fool me. You’ve been tailing me since we left town.’

‘You’re crazy!’ MacAdam said. ‘Now look…’

‘Get over to my car and snap it up!’ Baird said, moving forward.

MacAdam backed towards the Packard.

Rico came hurrying out of the café. He stopped short when he saw MacAdam and his knees wilted.

‘Come on! Come on!’ Baird said sharply. ‘Frisk him. He’l be carrying a gun.’

Rico ran his hands over MacAdam as if he were handling a snake. He took from the shoulder holster a .38 police special.

‘Get his wal et,’ Baird went on.

Rico found the wallet, opened it and found MacAdam’s buzzer and licence.

‘A shamus,’ he said bitterly.

‘Yeah,’ Baird said. ‘Okay, brother, do what you’re told and you won’t get hurt. This is where we part company. Where’s your car?’

‘At the end of the street,’ MacAdam said.

‘Let’s take a look at it,’ Baird said. ‘Get going!’

MacAdam walked stiffly down the dark street with Baird at his heels. Rico remained with the Packard. When they reached the Lincoln Baird said, ‘Open the hood and give me the rotor arm. This is as far as you go.’

MacAdam leaned forward and reached for the hood catch.

Baird set himself. He brought the gun butt down on Mac-Adam’s skul , driving him to his knees. He hit him again, then kicked his unconscious body out of his way, lifted the hood and removed the rotor arm.

He left the hood open and MacAdam lying half under the car, and ran back to the Packard.

‘That’s fixed him,’ he said, as he slid under the driving wheel. ‘It’l take him a week to get over that smack. Get Kile?’

Rico nodded miserably. All this violence horrified him, but he was too scared of Baird to protest.

‘He said he’l be at the lodge the day after tomorrow with the dough.’

‘He’l get a slug in the gut if he tries anything funny,’ Baird said, starting the car. ‘Did you tel him to watch out for a tail?’

‘Yes. He didn’t seem to like it.’

‘He’s not supposed to,’ Baird grunted, and sent the car racing along the highway. After a while he went on, ‘This isn’t going to be a picnic. By the time we’ve got Hater we’l have earned every nickel of that half million. This may be a fast buck, but don’t kid yourself we’re not going to earn it.’

Rico, who had no idea what was ahead of him, huddled down in his seat and said nothing.

VIII

There was a drag to Dallas’s step as he walked up the rose-lined path to Purvis’s front door. Before he could ring the bell, the door jerked open and Purvis waved him in.

‘I was hoping you’d come,’ Purvis said, as he led the way into his study. ‘Did you find the girl?’

Dallas flopped down in an easy chair.

‘If you haven’t got a drink in this hole, for the love of Mike give me some coffee,’ he said. ‘I’m about dead on my feet.’

Purvis gave him a sharp look and went over to an electric percolator. He poured two cups of coffee and brought them across the room. He gave Dallas a cup, hesitated, then went to a cupboard and produced a bottle of brandy.

‘This any good to you?’ he asked, a lit le reluctantly.

‘Sure,’ Dal as said, and poured a liberal shot into his coffee. He put the bot le down by his chair, out of Purvis’s reach. He drank some coffee, sighed and poured more brandy into the cup.

‘Did you find the girl?’ Purvis repeated, as he sat down.

‘Baird and Rico kidnapped her,’ Dal as said in a flat, cold voice. ‘They took her to a warehouse out at Pinder’s End and burned her with matches. Then they shot her through the head and chucked her into the river. I got Olin on the job, and the River Police fished her out about forty minutes ago.’

Purvis breathed heavily. His thin, pale face tightened.

‘That’s bad,’ he said. ‘Sure it was Baird?’

‘Yeah. The cops couldn’t find the slug, and he hadn’t left a clue behind him, but I saw him and Rico on the spot minute or so after the shooting.’

‘His word against yours.’

‘No. I took a shot at the car; smashed the rear window. Olin’s found the car about a mile from the club. If Olin gets either of them, he’l make them talk.’

‘Does he think he can pin it on them?’

‘It’s a cinch if he knew what the motive was,’ Dal as said, looking straight at Purvis.

‘And what’s that?’

‘Zoe slipped up somewhere. Maybe they caught her listening outside the door. I’m not kidding myself they don’t know the set-up now. You should have seen the way the bastards burned her.’

Purvis stroked his nose.

‘We paid her wel ,’ he said uneasily, ‘but she didn’t deserve that.’

‘That’s pret y white of you,’ Dal as said heatedly. ‘This wouldn’t have happened to her if we had told Olin what we are doing. He’d have had Baird in jail by now.’

‘That’s a lot of hooey,’ Purvis said. ‘Olin’s got nothing on Baird. I know you’re feeling sore about the girl, but you can’t talk like that. If you felt like that about her, you shouldn’t have put her out on a limb.’

‘So it’s my fault?’ Dal as said, his face white and strained.

‘It’s certainly not mine. I didn’t suggest paying her three hundred dol ars.’

Dallas didn’t say anything. He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. He was feeling bad about Zoe.

‘What’s Ainsworth doing?’ Purvis asked, after a short pause.

Dallas drank more coffee, and as he fumbled for a cigarette, he said, ‘He’s watching Kile. At the moment we’ve lost Baird, Rico and Gil is. When I got to the club with Olin, Baird and Rico had skipped. There was no sign of Gillis. I tried to find MacAdam, but his car had gone. I’m hoping he went after Gillis. Olin took the club to pieces, but we didn’t find anything. That guy, Luigi, Rico’s Captain of waiters, talked after Olin got tough with him. He told Olin both Rico and Baird had returned to the club about forty minutes before we got there. Rico said he had to leave town in a hurry. He collected all the cash he could lay his hands on, and went off with Baird in a dark blue Packard. No one knows where he was going. Olin’s thrown out a drag-net, but so far the car hasn’t been seen. While this was going on, I searched around for MacAdam. As soon as Ainsworth reported to me, I sent him down to watch Kile. If Kile slips through our fingers, we’ve lost the lot of them.’

‘I imagine Baird and Rico have gone to Shreveport,’ Purvis said thoughtfully. ‘I think the balloon’s about to go up.’

‘Yeah,’ Dal as said. ‘Think we should tel Olin what’s cooking? He could set a trap for Baird.’

‘Red River’s not in his territory. By the time he got any action, Baird would be miles away. Besides, we’re losing sight of our objective: we want Baird to take us to the jewels. If Olin barges in now, we’re back where we started.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Dallas said. ‘The casualties are mounting up. First Burns, now Zoe: maybe it’ll be me next.’

Purvis didn’t look particularly worried.

‘I’ve been working fifteen years on this case,’ he said. ‘I’m in sight of pul ing it off. I’m not going to bring Olin in to mess it up now.’

Dallas shrugged. He felt too tired to argue. He stared down at his feet, brooding.

Rain continued to patter against the window. A car came grinding up the hill towards Purvis’s house.

Both Purvis and Dallas listened to the sound of the labouring engine. They looked at each other questioningly. The car came nearer, then passed the house and went on up the hill. Both men relaxed again. Then the telephone bell started to ring. Dallas jumped a little and spilt some of his coffee.

Purvis picked up the receiver. He said, Yes, speaking.’ He sat stil , his face expressionless, his long, bony fingers tapping a tune on the arm of his chair. After a while he said, ‘Okay, and thanks. I’l be down in the morning. Brentwood hospital? Yeah, I know how to get there. It’s before you get to Lincoln Falls. Yeah, sure.’ He hung up.

‘Who’s dead now?’ Dallas asked, his hands turning into fists.

‘MacAdam’s been found with a fractured skul ,’ Purvis said slowly. He didn’t look at Dal as. ‘He was picked up in Brentwood’s main street.’

Dallas stubbed out his cigarette.

‘How is he?’

‘He’l be al right,’ Purvis said. ‘Be some time before he gets around again, but he’s not in danger.’

‘That’s swel ,’ Dal as said sarcastical y. ‘Just a fractured skul . Nothing worse than a slight headache.

Baird again, eh?’

‘I guess so. A man answering to Rico’s description used the telephone in a café in Brentwood around two o’clock. A lit le while later MacAdam was found about a couple of hundred yards from the café. At least we now know they’re heading for Red River. There’s an airfield at Lincoln Falls. They could get a plane to Shreveport from there.’

Dallas got slowly to his feet.

‘I’d bet er get over to Kile’s place. If we let him slip through our fingers, we’re sunk.’

‘Rico could have been phoning Kile,’ Purvis said thoughtfully. ‘Looks as if they’re on their way to get Hater out.’

‘I can’t imagine they’re going to Red River to look at the al igators,’ Dal as said sarcastical y. ‘I’m glad I haven’t a wife and children. This job’s get ing dangerous.’

Purvis saw him to the door, and then returned to his study. He listened to Dallas’s car start up. He 78

James Hadley Chase. The Fast Buck. 1952

remained standing, his face expressionless, his eyes thoughtful long after the sound of Dallas’s car had died away.

I

The slow-moving, mud-coloured Red River wound through a dense undergrowth of saw-grass, duck-weed and sagittaria. The great naked roots of the mangrove trees, anchored in the mud flats, gave the impression of a forest on stilts. An oppressive, tropical heat hung over the river. The only sound Rico could hear was the thump-thump of a diesel engine a long way away, pounding out a monotonous rhythm.

Rico wiped the sweat out of his eyes. He was sitting in the prow of a flat-bottomed boat that seemed to him to be horribly fragile, and likely to tip over if he moved.

Baird sat in the stern and paddled the boat through the slow-moving water, keeping close to the bank.

The Thompson gun, loaded and cocked, lay at his feet. His pale eyes scanned both sides of the bank as they moved slowly upstream.

‘Hear that noise?’ he said suddenly. ‘That’s the dredge. It’s farther away than it sounds. That’s where Hater is.’

Rico hunched his shoulders. Mosquitoes droned above his head. He was afraid to flap his hands at them in case he upset the boat.

‘What a hole!’ he said, looking at the tal saw-grass on either side of the bank. ‘How can we hope to make a path through that stuff? How the hell are we going to get him away?’

‘We haven’t got him yet,’ Baird said. ‘Keep your voice down. Sounds carry a long way across water.’

Rico grunted and lapsed into silence. As the boat moved slowly up the river, taking him farther into the dense undergrowth and away from civilisation, he regretted still more getting himself mixed up in this crazy, dangerous business.

He noticed a big log of wood, like a tree trunk, floating motionless in the water. Baird suddenly swung the boat’s nose away from it, and slightly increased his speed.

‘Don’t wake that guy up,’ he said. ‘That’s an al igator.’

Rico felt suddenly sick. He gripped the sides of the boat as he stared at the black object that was now in their rear.