Roy Carroll - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 4, April, 1953

Every fibre of him strained toward her, and he spoke thickly, saying, “It’s you in exchange for the sapphire.”

Hagen was laughing softly. “Let the lady make up her own mind. After all, it’s her decision.”

She parted her lips to make the reply. Clayton felt the pounding of his heart and he couldn’t breathe as he waited to hear the sound of her voice. He saw the glow in her eyes and he almost leaped up, knowing that now he could take her in his arms and have what he wanted more than anything. But all at once the glow went out of her eyes, and she wasn’t even looking at him. His veins froze as he saw her moving toward Hagen.

She stood beside Hagen and there was a thin smile on her lips as she put her hand on the big man’s shoulder. Her fingers played with the expensive fabric of his suit. “It’s a nice suit,” she murmured. “It’s silk, isn’t it?” She aimed the smile at Clayton. “I like silk. I like the feel of it. I wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

“Smart girl,” Hagen murmured. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. She fondled him, slowly curving her body to sit in his lap.

Clayton lowered his head and felt the pain lacing through him. On the level of sanity he called himself a moon-maddened idiot, craving something that was worthless. And yet he was torn with yearning, and the core of the wound was a horrible sense of futility and loss.

And all that remained was a shred of consoling thought as he remembered the sapphire. It lifted him just a little to know that Hagen would never get the stone.

He heard the sound of a door, and then a voice. It was the voice of Kroner. He blinked a few times and told himself he was hearing things, he was letting himself go crazy. He looked up and his widened eyes saw the Dutchman.

He stared at the cardboard box in Kroner’s fat hands. He saw Kroner moving toward the table, placing the box on the table and grinning at Hagen and saying, “Open it. You’ll see the biggest and the finest.”

Hagen’s face was wet with perspiration as he opened the box. His fingers went in like hungry fangs, and came out clutching the huge chunk of dull blue stone. He let out a gasp and for a moment it almost seemed he wanted to cram the gem into his mouth and make it a part of his insides.

“Look at this thing,” Hagen cried. “Just look at it.” He held it up to the light. He spoke to it, saying, “Oh you sweetheart. You great big blue sweetheart.”

“Like it?” Kroner murmured.

“It’s my baby,” Hagen exulted.

“Good,” Kroner said. “Now let’s talk business.”

Clayton glared at the Dutchman. “You talk as if it’s your stone.”

“It is.” Kroner was grinning. “Didn’t you will it to me? I knew you wouldn’t come out of here alive.”

Then it was hate coming from Clayton’s eyes as he shouted, “You double-crossing bastard.”

“Please,” Kroner murmured. “I beg you, do not misunderstand my intentions.”

Clayton studied the Dutchman’s face. And suddenly he realized the truth of it, the absolute truth, that Kroner’s purpose was founded on pure honor and integrity. He knew that Kroner had come here in a desperate effort to save him from death. The Dutchman was gambling on Hagen’s mad craving for the big blue stone, and hoping that a financial transaction would settle the matter and prevent a killing.

Kroner was looking at Hagen and saying, “Make me an offer.”

Hagen didn’t seem to hear. He was fully occupied with feasting his eyes on the stone. He seemed to have forgotten the gun in his other hand. And he paid no attention to Alma, who still sat in his lap, her arm around his shoulder and her fingers caressing the side of his face. He seemed to feel nothing, see nothing, know nothing but the big blue gem that glittered in his palm.

“It’s flawless,” Hagen said ecstatically. “I don’t need an eye-piece to tell me that. It’s flawless and it’s absolutely priceless. There isn’t another like it in the world.” There was fever in his eyes and mania in his voice as he cried, “Now I own the biggest and the best.”

“You don’t own it yet,” Kroner said quietly. “I’m still waiting to hear your offer.”

“My offer?” Hagen blinked a few times. He seemed to be coming out of a blue mist, a vapor that drifted up from the sapphire. His eyes narrowed, a hard smile curved his lips, and he said, “You’re a fool, Kroner. Can’t you see the stone in my hand? You’ve delivered the merchandise and now it’s mine.”

Kroner’s face stiffened. “You imply that I’m not to be paid?”

Hagen laughed lightly. “You’ll be paid,” he said. “I’ll even give you a pen to sign the receipt. It’s a special kind of pen. It writes under water.”

The Dutchman winced. He gazed helplessly at Clayton. Then he shook his head sadly and said, “It was too much to hope for. But at least I can tell myself that I tried.”

“You tried hard.” Clayton’s throat was thick with feeling. “You’re a real friend.”

“I’m an imbecile,” the Dutchman said. “I made the mistake of thinking that Mr. Hagen was a human being. My stupidity in that matter cannot be measured.” He shrugged and then he smiled dimly at Clayton, and his eyes said, Let’s see if we can take it without flinching.

Clayton returned the smile. An instant later he saw Hagen making a gesture that told his four men to get busy. He saw them reaching into their pockets and taking out the knives. In his mind he could see the process that would soon take place, the quick and efficient slaughtering, the blades slicing his flesh and Kroner’s flesh. And after that, the weights attached to the ankles and the two corpses hurled into the harbor where the water was forty or seventy or ninety feet deep, anyway deep enough to hide all traces of a wet burial.

Without words he was saying good-bye to Kroner. And then, for some unaccountable reason, he decided on a silent farewell to Alma. He looked at her and he saw her sitting there in Hagen’s lap.

His lips curled just a little to show his defiance and contempt. But then he saw the look in her eyes, the look that told him to keep his gaze focused on her face, to wait for a signal. He couldn’t be wrong this time.

A moment later she gave him the signal. It was a wink. In almost the same moment she made a grab for the gun in Hagen’s hand. Clayton lunged across the table, seeing the gun pointed to the ceiling as Alma twisted Hagen’s wrist.

In a fraction of a second, Hagen’s finger pulled the trigger, and the bullet went straight up, and Clayton grabbed for the gun but couldn’t get it because Hagen freed his wrist from Alma’s grasp and the motion caused the gun to fall out of his hand and off the table. The four men were lunging with their knives and Clayton dived to the floor, and made another grab for the gun.

But now Dodsley was there to kick the gun aside. Dodsley reached down to pick up the gun and received a hammer blow in the stomach from Kroner’s fist. Then Kroner made a try for the gun and Hagen came leaping in to give the Dutchman a shoulder in the ribs that sent him to his knees.

Hagen kept on going, getting closer to the gun, getting very close and then reaching the gun, grabbing it, aiming it at Clayton’s face. Clayton’s arm went out like a piston, his hand closed on the barrel, jerked it up as Hagen yanked on the trigger. Another bullet went into the ceiling. A third bullet went into a wall.

They were still grappling lor the gun when a fourth bullet plowed into the floor. Then Clayton had the gun and the fifth bullet went into Hagen’s heart.

Clayton showed the gun to Dodsley and the four men. They didn’t need to be told to drop their knives. Kroner was standing motionless and taking deep breaths.