James Chase - Tiger by the Tail

“Twenty-five, but no more.”

“I’ll close at thirty,” Johnny said, watching O’Brien closely. O’Brien appeared to hesitate, then he shrugged. “Okay: thirty. My agent will give you half in New York and you’ll get the other half in Paris.”

“You wouldn’t double-cross me, would you, Sean? If I don’t get the money, I’ll come back.”

“By then the police may be looking for you. You seem to have forgotten you killed a woman last night.”

“Why shouldn’t I forget it? That’s your headache. I want some money now. How about my air passage?”

“My agent will take care of that,” O’Brien said glibly. He took out his billfold, counted three hundred dollars on to the table and waved his hand. “There you are: take it.”

Johnny didn’t need a second invitation. He slid off the bunk, collected the money and put it in his pocket.

“You must want her, Sean,” he said, grinning. “Brother! You must want her to part with all that dough. I wouldn’t give all that for her or any woman.” O’Brien had to make an effort to hide the fury that was raging inside him.

“There’s notepaper in that drawer. Write to Gilda and tell her you’re going to Paris and won’t be coming back for some time,” he said curtly

“Oh, the hell with that!” Johnny said impatiently. “You tell her. Why should I bother to write?”

“Write to her or the deal’s off!” O’Brien said, his rage sounding in his voice.

“What are you worrying about?” Johnny asked, suddenly eyeing him suspiciously. “Scared she’ll think you’ve knocked me on the head and dropped me into the river?”

“Don’t be a fool!” O’Brien was secretly startled that Johnny should have got so near to the truth. “She’s fond of you and she deserves to hear direct from you.”

“Well, okay, I’ll call her from the airport.”

“I’m not having you hanging around the airport where a cop might spot you. You’ll write now or the deal’s off.”

Johnny shrugged.

“Okay, okay. Shall I tell her how your thug knocked me around? I can’t imagine she’ll be soft and sweet to you if she knew how you’ve been treating me.”

“Get on with it!” O’Brien snarled, and turned away, his face ugly with suppressed rage.

Johnny sat down and began to scrawl on a sheet of notepaper. He hummed under his breath, then he tossed the paper over to O’Brien. “There you are,” he said. “Now let’s get off this stinking boat.”

O’Brien picked up the note, read it, nodded and pointed to an envelope.

“Address it to her.”

Johnny obeyed and O’Brien put the note in the envelope, sealed it, and put it in his billfold.

He was elated. He could now deal with Johnny without making Gilda suspicious.

“You’re not coming back with me,” he said. “I’m not taking the risk of being seen with you. I’ll take Solly and he can come back with the motorboat for you. And understand, do what I tell you or you’ll be sorry.”

“Suppose I go first for a change?” Johnny said. “I’ve been on this goddamn boat longer than you have.”

“Shut your trap!” O’Brien snarled, his face suddenly murderous. “You stinking little rat! I’ve had about enough of you!”

The expression in his eyes startled Johnny.

“Take it easy, Sean,” he said uneasily. “I was only kidding.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t like kidders, and you’ll damn well find out just how much I don’t like them before long!”

O’Brien went out, locked the door after him and went up on deck. He was shaking with rage. Now he had the letter, the sooner Johnny was out of the way the better. He could tell Gilda in a little while that Johnny had been killed in a brawl in Paris. It would never occur to her that he had ordered Johnny’s death.

Solly stood by the deck rail. As soon as he saw O’Brien he scrambled down into the motorboat.

Tux joined O’Brien.

“Go ahead and take him,” O’Brien said, keeping his voice low. “You’re sure you can handle this, Tux? I don’t want any slipup.”

“That’s okay,” Tux said. “I’ll roll the barrel overboard. There’s plenty of water. It’ll be okay.”

“When Solly comes back, come over and call me. You’d better tell Solly you took Johnny ashore in the dinghy. I’ll keep him with me for an hour. Will that give you enough time?”

“Sure,” Tux said indifferently. “I’ll fix him as soon as you’re gone. There’s nothing to it. The barrel’s a big one. He’ll fit in it easily. I have plenty of cement. An hour’s fine.”

“Don’t use a gun, Tux. Someone may hear it from the waterfront.”

“I’ll use a knife.”

“Make a job of it,” O’Brien said, crossed the deck arid climbed down into the motorboat.

Solly cast off, started the engine and sent boat shooting away into the darkness.

O’Brien’s and Tux’s voices came clearly to Ken as he clung to the side of the cruiser, but it took several moments before he realized what was about to happen to Johnny.

They were going to murder Johnny and dump him in the river!

Ken turned cold.

With Johnny at the bottom of the river, how could he hope to convince anyone he hadn’t murdered Fay? He had to rescue Johnny get him back to land and hand him over to Adams. That was his only chance of ever proving his innocence.

But the thought of tackling Tux single-handed turned his mouth dry and made his heart beat violently. Ken didn’t pretend to be a man of action. He knew, too, he wasn’t in any physical shape for a hand-to-hand grapple with Tux. But there was no alternative. He had to rescue Johnny if he was to save himself.

As he tied his boat to the iron bracket by Johnny’s port-hole, he wondered if it would be safe to attract Johnny’s attention and warn him what he planned to do, but Tux was still somewhere on deck and he decided against the risk of being heard.

His first move was to get on board. If he could sneak up on Tux and hit him over the head, the rescue would be simple.

He reached up and caught hold of the bottom rail, then cautiously pulled himself up until his eyes were level with the deck.

In the shadowy darkness he caught sight of Tux on the far side, outlined against the skyline. He was busy trying to pry off the head of a big cask that stood against the far deck rail, his back turned to Ken.

His heart hammering, Ken lifted one leg, hooked his foot around the rail

support and pulled himself up. He shifted his grip, reached for the top rail and swung himself on deck.

He crouched down on hands and knees, his eyes fixed on Tux’s broad back.

Tux was making enough noise while hammering a chisel into the head of the cask to cover the slight sounds Ken had made getting on deck.

Ken watched him. The thirty-foot gap that separated him from, Tux was too wide to risk a rush. Besides, he hadn’t a weapon and he had no intentions of tackling Tux with his fists.

He decided his only chance against Tux was to combine forces with Johnny. The two of them should be able to handle Tux. He began to creep towards the companion ladder.

Tux got the head off the cask, straightened and turned suddenly.

Ken flattened out and lay still, his heart doing a somersault while he watched Tux walk along the deck and disappear behind the bridge house. He came into sight again before Ken could move, carrying a sack of cement on his shoulder. He emptied the cement into the barrel, then he went back for another sack.

Ken darted across the deck, reached the companion ladder and scrambled down it as Tux reappeared.

He found himself in a narrow, dimly lit passage. One of the four doors on either side of the passage had a key in the lock. He could hear Tux moving about above him, and guessed he hadn’t much time. He turned the key, pushed open the door and entered the small cabin.