James Chase - 12 Chinks and a Woman

“Noolen in still?” Fenner asked, heading for the office.

“He’s busy right now,” one of the Cubans said, trying to intercept him. Fenner beat him to the door, pushed it open and went in.

Noolen, Kemerinski and Alex sat round the desk. A black unlabelled bottle and glasses stood before them, and they all were smoking. They all looked up, their faces startled, then, seeing Fenner, they relaxed. Noolen scowled at him. “What do you call this?” he said bitterly. “Schaife and Scalfoni dead, and these two guys nearly shot to hell. This your idea of smashing Carlos?”

Fenner wasn’t in the mood to play around with Noolen. He put his hands flat on the desk and looked Noolen in the face. “Pipe down, jughead. What’ve you got a bellyache about? Schaife and Scalfoni dead? So what? Think you can fight a war without any casualties? What about the other side? We’ve wiped out all their boats. We’ve burnt their base. Thayler’s dead, Nightingale’s dead, Miller’s dead, Bugsey’s dead, and six or seven others of the mob. Ain’t that giving value for money?”

Noolen sat staring at him. “Thayler?” His voice hardly reached above a whisper.

Fenner nodded. “That leaves Carlos and Reiger, I particularly want those two guys myself. Then the gang’s washed up.”

Kemerinski said, “This guy knows what he’s talkin’ about. I’ll play along with him still.”

Alex nodded and grunted.

Fenner said, “Okay. What are we waitin’ for? Where’s Whiskey Joe’s?”

“It’s a joint near Nigger Beach.”

Fenner turned to Noolen. “I’m goin’ after Carlos. When I get back, I’ve got something to say to you. Stick around. This is the finish of this business.”

He turned to the other two: “Get a couple of Thompsons. We’re goin’ to Whiskey Joe’s. Carlos’s over there.”

Alex went away. Kemerinski said, “Just we three?” He sounded a little uneasy-

Fenner shook his head. “I’m going. You two come in later and clear up the mess.”

Fenner went out with Kemerinski. Alex was waiting in the car, nursing two Thompsons. As Kemerinski drove off, Fenner said, “You two take the guns. You wait outside until you hear shooting, then come in and blast everything you see. Don’t stop shooting until there’s nothin’ to shoot at— get it?”

Alex said, “This has been a swell night.”

The big car went down Duval Street fast. Duval Street stretched right across the whole length of the island. It was late, and they met no cars. Kemerinski drove very fast. He cut speed as he reached South Street and swung the car to the right. At the bottom of South Street he drew to the curb and killed the engine. “Whiskey’s over on the corner at Nigger Beach.”

Fenner got out of the car and began walking down the street. The other two followed him, holding the Thompsons under their coats. Fenner said, “He’s got a place at the back. Would you know it?”

Alex said, “There’s a warehouse round the back, maybe that’s it.”

“We’ll go and look at it..”

Whiskey Joe’s bar had closed for the night. It was just a small pile of black woodwork in the darkness. Alex said, “Down this alley,” softly.

Fenner said, “Stick around while I have a look. I’ll be back.”

He went down the alley, which was very dark and smelt of decay and dark-alley smells. He walked carefully, not sneaking, but making no noise. At the end of the alley was a small square. Turning right and coming up behind Whiskey Joe’s, he could make out a big square building with a flat roof. That, too, was a black silhouette against the star-filled sky. He got closer found a door, tried it cautiously. It was locked. He moved along looking for a window, turned the corner and worked his way along the south side. Still no windows. Round the next corner an iron ladder set close to the wall led upwards into the darkness. Fenner guessed it would take him on to the roof.

He went back fast and noiselessly to the other two waiting at the mouth of the alley. “I think I’ve found the dump,” he said. “There’s only one door. All you two’ve got to do is to lie out there and start with the meat-grinder soon as they come out. Don’t show yourselves, just lie flat and grind away.”

He could see Kemerinski’s teeth as he grinned. “I’ll go up on the roof and send ’em out to you. Don’t make mistakes, an’ when you’ve done the job, beat it. I’ll look after myself.”

The two grunted to show they understood, and then Fenner retraced his steps to the building. He climbed up the iron ladder, testing each rung before he put his weight on it. He counted forty rungs before he reached the top. As his head came over the balustrade he saw in the centre of the roof a square skylight, through which a light was shining.

Fenner knew that he’d have to be mighty careful how he crossed over. The slightest sound he made would be heard by anyone underneath. Before getting on to the roof he walked along the balustrade and looked over. He spotted Alex and Kemerinski hiding in a long ditch that was exactly opposite the door of the warehouse. They saw him and waved. He raised his hand, and then lowered himself from the balustrade to the roof.

Holding his gun in his right hand, he inched his way across the space that divided him from the skylight. It took him quite a time, but he did it without a sound. Pushing his hat to the back of his head, he looked down into the room. Carlos was there. Reiger was there and another man he didn’t know. They were within six feet of Fenner. The room was very low, like a loft, and Fenner was so startled that he hurriedly jerked back.

Carlos was smoking on the bed. Reiger lolled, his head against the wall, in a chair; he was asleep. The other man dozed on the floor.

Fenner looked at the cross-pieces between the panes of the skylight; he felt their thickness gently with his thumb. There was no substance in them. Then he straightened and, reaching out with his right foot, he placed it gently in the exact centre of the cross-pieces. He took a deep breath and pushed down with all his weight.

The cross-pieces gave with a splintering noise and he and the glass crashed down into the room. He landed on his feet, staggered and jerked up his gun.

Carlos lay very still on the bed, his cigarette jerking up and down in his mouth. The man on the floor went for his gun unconsciously. He was so dazed that his instinct took him to death. If he hadn’t been dozing nothing on this earth would have made him go for the gun. Fenner shot him between the eyes.

Reiger and Carlos were like frozen statues. They just stared at Fenner with fixed glassy eyes.

Fenner said, “I want you,” to Carlos.

The ash from Carlos’ cigarette fell on his chest. He looked wildly at Reiger and then back to Fenner. “Gimme a break,” he said hoarsely.

Fenner said, “Shut up. I’ve been layin’ for you two. Now you’re going to get what’s coming to you. I’m not going to do it. You two guys can do it to yourselves. You can fight it out. The one who wins goes out of this joint. I won’t touch him. Maybe you’ve heard I keep my word. Either that, or I’ll knock the two of you off.”

Reiger relaxed suddenly. He said, “I kill him and you don’t touch me?” he sounded incredulous.

Carlos crouched further against the wall. “Reiger!” he screamed. “Don’t do it!” I’m your boss, do you hear? You’re not to do it.”

Reiger got slowly out of his chair, he had a fixed grin on his face.

Fenner said, “Wait. Put your mitts up and face the wall.”

Reiger scowled at him, but Fenner rammed his gun hard into his side. He put his hands up and turned round. Fenner took a gun out of his hip pocket and stepped back. “Stay there an’ don’t move.” He went over to Carlos, grabbed him by his shirt front and dragged him off the bed. A quick frisk told him Carlos hadn’t a gun.