Уильям Макгиверн - Rogue Cop

A moment after she’d gone a key sounded in the front door and Beaumonte walked in, followed by Bill Ackerman and his huge watchdog, Johnny Stark, the ex-heavyweight. Something in their manner warned Carmody; Beaumonte, massive and immaculate in a white silk suit, looked sullen, and even Ackerman, who normally gave nothing away, was frowning slightly. Johnny Stark walked past Carmody and sat down in a straight chair with his back to the terrace windows. He flicked his eyes around the room but kept his good ear cocked toward Ackerman like a wary dog.

“More bum tips?” Carmody asked Beaumonte.

“We weren’t at the track.” Beaumonte stared bluntly at him, his eyes narrowed and unfriendly. “I’ve got more to do than sit on my tail in the clubhouse.”

“I know you’ve got it rough,” Carmody grinned.

“Don’t be a comic. I’m in no mood for jokes.”

“I worry a lot about your moods,” Carmody said easily. “Sometimes they keep me awake all of five or ten minutes.”

The silence stretched out as Beaumonte walked to the coffee table, picked up a cigar and faced him from the fireplace. This put Carmody in the middle of a triangle, with Ackerman standing before him, Beaumonte at his side, and Johnny Stark at his back. A faint warning stirred in him. Trouble was coming; he could sense it in their deliberate manner and hard watchful eyes.

“I expected to see your brother last night,” Ackerman said. He was in a businesslike mood, his eyes frowning and black, his even features set in a closed, unrevealing expression. “What happened?”

“I explained that to Beaumonte.”

“Explain it to me,” Ackerman said coldly.

“My brother had a date and wouldn’t break it.”

“You’re sure he hasn’t changed his mind?”

“Of course not,” Carmody said.

Ackerman smiled faintly but it didn’t relieve the expression about his eyes. “I wanted to hear you say that, Mike.” He glanced at Beaumonte. “There it is,” he said.

“Yeah, there it is,” Beaumonte said.

Ackerman opened his mouth but before he could speak Nancy came bouncing into the room, carrying a drink in one hand and humming a song under her breath. “Hello, Danny boy,” she said, and skipped toward him with a series of intricate little steps. “I was dancing for Mike. He thinks I’ve got talent. Don’t you Mike?”

Beaumonte swore violently at her and pulled the glass from her hand. Liquor splashed on the front of her skirt and over the tips of her black velvet pumps. She backed away, staring at him guiltily. Her face was white and her hands came together nervously over her breasts. “Why did you do that, Dan?” she asked in a small voice.

“Dancing! You’ve also been swilling my liquor like a pig.”

“You said it was all right today.”

“And now I’m telling you different,” Beaumonte said, and hurled the glass across the room. It struck the wall beside one of his oils and shattered noisily. “I’ll kick you back to the gutter if you can’t stop acting like a rumhead.” He caught her arm and shoved her toward the wide doors of the dining room. “Get out of here and sleep it off, you hear?”

“Don’t shout at me, please, Dan,” she said, regaining her balance. “I’ll go, please.”

Carmody said softly, “Your manners stink, Beaumonte. Why don’t you try to match them up with your paintings and imported wines?”

“Keep out of this, Mike,” Beaumonte said, staring at him with hot furious eyes.

“Everybody relax,” Ackerman said, and the words fell ominously across the silence. Johnny Stark came quickly to his feet and moved in on the group, responding like a dog to Ackerman’s tone. Nancy backed slowly to the bar as Beaumonte mopped his red face with a handkerchief. “Okay, we’re relaxed,” he said, breathing deeply and staring at Ackerman. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Okay,” Ackerman said, in the same dangerous voice. He swung around on Carmody. “You’ve lied to us. You made no deal with your brother. We talked to him this afternoon and he threatened to arrest us if we didn’t clear out of his house. Got anything to say to this, you smart bastard?”

“I was working on him,” Carmody said slowly. Talking would help nothing; they had him cold. But he went on, anyway, stalling for time. “He didn’t like the idea, but I was softening him up. I could have brought him around.”

“You lied to us,” Ackerman said. “You were crossing me up, Mike. There’s a lot at stake in this deal but you couldn’t take orders. Well, I got no room around me for guys like you. You beat it now, and beat it fast.”

“You aren’t talking to a bellhop,” Carmody said. He didn’t know where this was heading and he didn’t care. “I don’t come and go when you press a button.”

“You’d better listen when I press a button,” Ackerman said. “We’ve got a file on you a foot high. When it goes to the Superintendent you go to jail. Keep that in mind, bellhop.”

It’s a bluff, Carmody thought, watching Ackerman. But he knew he was kidding himself. Ackerman never bluffed; he had a leash on every man who worked for him. It was the fundamental rule of his operations.

“I don’t trust anybody,” Ackerman said, as if reading his thoughts. “And least of all the cops who work for me. You’ve already sold yourself once when you start using your badges as collection plates. And you’ll sell me out if I give you the chance.”

“Let’s go, Mike,” Johnny Stark said, moving toward him with his slow, flat-footed walk. “You heard Mr. Ackerman.”

“Okay,” Carmody said, looking about the room, letting his eyes touch Ackerman and Beaumonte. “I’ll run along.” He picked up his hat from the chair and walked to the door, feeling the silence behind him and aware of their looks on his back. With his hand on the knob he paused a second. He was alone now, cut off from everyone. There would be no help from any quarter; Karen, Ackerman, Father Ahearn, even Eddie himself, they were all ranged against him, watching his futile efforts with contempt. But I’ve always been alone, he thought, as a gentle, pleasurable anger began to stir in him; he had thrown away the hollow props of faith and family because he had to stand alone. Turning his head slightly he caught Ackerman with his cold gray eyes. “What about my brother?” he said.

“We’ll take care of that,” Ackerman said.

Carmody let his hand fall from the knob. For an instant he stood perfectly still, his big body relaxed and at ease. Then he turned and walked slowly back into the room. “What does that mean, Ackerman?” he said quietly.

“Don’t make a big mistake now,” Ackerman said. “Just beat it. I’m tired of talk.”

They can’t push me this last step, Carmody thought. I’m a crooked cop with thieves’ money in my pocket, but I won’t look the other way while they murder Eddie. Drawing a deep breath, he felt nothing but relief at reaching a line he wouldn’t cross.

“There’ll be just a little more talk,” he said coldly to Ackerman. “And you’d better listen good. Nothing happens to my brother. Get that straight.”

Ackerman looked at Johnny Stark and said irritably, “Take him out of here.”

“What?” Johnny asked him anxiously.

“Get him out, you deaf ape,” Ackerman yelled. “You think I want lip from a stupid flatfoot.”

“I told you to listen good,” Carmody said, and the hard bright anger in his face brought a nervous slack to Beaumonte’s lips. Johnny was moving in on him, his massive chin pulled down into his neck, but Carmody kept his eyes on Ackerman. “Nothing happens to my brother. Figure out some other way to get off the hook.”

“I heard you,” Ackerman said. “I’ve listened to loud mouths like you before.”