Рекс Стаут: In the Best Families

“His pulse is all right,” Roeder said, not through his nose.

“You’re crazy,” Rackham said hoarsely. “Good God! You’re crazy!”

He was out of his chair, standing there in front of it, trembling all over. Roeder’s hand went to his side pocket for the Carson Snub Thirty, which he had got from the brief case along with the piece of cord. I took it and aimed it at Rackham.

“Sit down,” I said, “and stay.”

He sank down into the chair. I moved to the end of the desk so as to have him in a corner of my eye while looking at Zeck. Roeder, at my left elbow, spoke rapidly but distinctly.

“Mr. Zeck,” he said, “you told me on the telephone two years ago that you had great admiration for me. I hope that what has just happened here has increased it. I’m Nero Wolfe, of course. There are many things it would give me satisfaction to say to you, and perhaps I shall someday, but not now. It is true that if one of your men suddenly opened the door Mr. Goodwin would kill you first, but I’m afraid you’d have company. So I’ll get on. Having by your admission matched you in intellect, it’s a question of will, and mine has not failed me, as you thought. Confound it, I wish you could speak.”

The expression of Zeck’s eyes, no longer popping, indicated that Wolfe had nothing on him there.

“Here’s the situation,” Wolfe went on. “During the two months I’ve been here in this outlandish guise I have collected enough evidence to get you charged on thirty counts under Federal law. I assure you that the evidence is sound and sufficient, and is in the hands of a man whom you cannot stop or deflect. You’ll have to take my word for it that if that evidence is produced and used you are done for, and that it will be immediately produced and used if anything untoward happens to Mr. Goodwin or me. I fancy you will take my word since you admit that I match you in intellect, and to climax these five frightful months with such a bluff as this, if it were one, would be witless. However, if you think I’m bluffing there’s no point in going on. If you think I’m bluffing, please shake your head no, meaning you don’t believe me.”

No shake.

“If you think I have the evidence as described, please nod your head.”

No nod.

“I warn you,” Wolfe said sharply, “that Mr. Goodwin and I are both ready for anything whatever.”

Zeck nodded. Nothing violent, but a nod.

“You assume my possession of the evidence?”

Zeck nodded again.

“Good. Then we can bargain. While I have great respect for the Federal laws, I am under no obligation to catch violators of them. Without compunction I can leave that to others. But I am under an obligation to a certain individual which I feel strongly and which I must discharge. Mrs. Rackham paid me a large sum to serve her interest, and the next day she was murdered. It was clearly my duty to expose her murderer — not only my duty to her but to my own self-respect — and I have failed. With an obligation of that nature I have never accepted failure and do not intend to. Mr. Goodwin, working in my behalf, has been a party to that failure, and he too will not accept it.”

Zeck nodded again, or I thought he did, probably to signify approval of our high moral standards.

“So we can bargain,” Wolfe told him. “You said day before yesterday that you have evidence, or can easily get it, that will convict Rackham of the murder of his wife. Was that true?”

Zeck nodded. The shark eyes were intent on Wolfe.

“Very well. I believe you because I know what you are capable of. I offer a trade. I’ll trade you the evidence I have collected against you for the evidence that will convict Rackham. Will you make the trade?”

Zeck nodded.

“It will have to be more or less on my terms. I can be trusted; you cannot. You will have to deliver first. But I realize that the details of anything as vital as this is to you cannot be settled without discussion, and it must be discussed and settled now. We are going to release your hands and take that handkerchief from your mouth, but before we do so, one more warning. You are to stay where you are until we’re finished. If you move toward the floor signals under your desk, or try to summon your men in any other manner, you will die before anyone else does.

Also, of course, there is the evidence that exists against you. You understand the situation?”

Zeck nodded.

“Are you ready to discuss the matter?”

Zeck nodded.

“Release him, Archie,” Wolfe snapped.

Needing two hands to untie the cord, I put the Carson Snub Thirty down on the polished top of Zeck’s desk. I would have given a year’s pay for a glance at Rackham, to see what the chances were, but that might have ruined it. So I put the gun there, stepped around to the rear of Zeck’s chair, knelt, and started untying the knot. My heart was pounding my ribs like a sledgehammer.

So I didn’t see it happen; I could only hear it. I did see one thing there behind Zeck’s chair: a sudden convulsive jerk of his arms, which must have been his reaction to the sight of Rackham jumping for the gun I had left on the desk. More even than a sight of Rackham, to see if he was rising to it, I wanted a sight of Wolfe, to see if he was keeping his promise to duck for cover the instant Rackham started for the gun, but I couldn’t afford it. My one desperate job now was to get that cord off of Zeck’s wrists in time, and while Wolfe had used the trick knot we had practiced with, he had made it damn tight. I barely had it free and was unwinding the cord from the wrists when the sound of the shot came, followed immediately by another.

As I got the cord off and jammed it in my pocket, Zeck’s torso slumped sideways and then forward. Flat on the floor, I slewed around, saw Zeck’s contorted face right above my eyes, pulled the handkerchief out of his mouth and stuffed it in my pocket with the cord, slid forward under the desk, and reached for one of the signal buttons.

I didn’t know, and don’t know yet, whether the noise of the shots had got through the soundproof door or whether it was my push on the button that brought them. I didn’t hear the door open, but the next shots I heard were a fusillade that came from no Carson, so I came back out from under the desk and on up to my feet. Schwartz and his buddy were standing just inside the door, one with two guns and one with one. Rackham was stretched out on the floor, flat on his face. Wolfe was standing at the end of the desk, facing the door, scowling as I had never seen him scowl before.

“The dirty bastard,” I said bitterly, and I admit my voice might have trembled even if I hadn’t told it to.

“Reach up,” Schwartz said, advancing.

Neither Wolfe nor I moved a muscle. But Wolfe spoke. “What for?” He was even bitterer than me, and contemptuous. “They let him in armed, not us.”

“Watch ’em, Harry,” Schwartz said, and came forward and on around behind the desk where I was. Ignoring me, he bent over Zeck’s collapsed body, spent half a minute with it, and then straightened and turned.

“He’s gone,” he said.

Harry, from near the door, squealed incredulously. “He’s gone?”

“He’s gone,” Schwartz said.

Harry wheeled, pushed the door open, and was gone too. Schwartz stared after him three seconds, not more than that, then jumped as if I had pinched him, made for the door, and on through.

I went and took a look at Rackham, found he was even deader than Zeck, and turned to Wolfe. “Okay, that’s enough. Come on.”

“No.” He was grim. “It will be safer when they’ve all skedaddled. Phone the police.”

“From here?”

“Yes.”

I went to Zeck’s desk and pulled one of the phones to me.