Микки Спиллейн: Together We Kill

I edged in close to the hangar doors where there was a windbreak, locked the breaks, hopped out and chocked the wheels.

It was a bad thing to do, but I had no alternative.

Sharon came into my arms with a rush, burying her face in my chest, sobs of joy coming from her like that of a happy puppy. I shouted over the roar of the engine behind me, “She’s gone. It’s all right now... we have it made.”

“As long as I have you back, my big one...”

“Inside. I have one call to make.”

I pushed her ahead of me through the door into the hangar and felt for the light. The place was empty; everybody had cleared out in advance of Ingrid. I picked the phone off the wall and dialed my number.

The voice in the doorway said, “Hang up, Fallon.”

We both turned around.

Lois Hays stood there, her face a mask of pure hatred, the gun in her hand a cold, deadly thing. I put the phone back.

“Yes, I’m sure of it now, Lois, I knew how Del Reed, Jones and Smith could have found me, but not Andre Marcel. You were the only one who knew about the Paramount Motel.”

“You’re quite right. I told him.”

Outside, the wind was a tearing shriek. Ingrid was here. So was death. I felt Sharon’s hand grope for mine, find it and hold tight.

I said, “It’s too late, Lois. The Leona is down, the bomb is gone. The propaganda is a dead issue.”

“Is it? I think not.”

Somehow, she had figured an angle and I knew I was sweating. Her smile was as deadly serious as the gun in her hand. I measured the distance to her and thought about Sharon’s gun, but each time Lois Hays was following my thoughts as though she could read my mind.

“No,” she told us both, “there is not one thing you can do before I kill you. Not one thing.”

Trying to play for time, I said, “How can you make it, kid?”

“If you thought about it, you’d see. Tomorrow the papers will carry the story with Duncan Knight’s byline and we’ll still win. Pity you won’t be able to see it.”

“What story?”

“How an American citizen carried out an act of unprecedented violence — aided and abetted by authorized agents of this country — and destroyed a harmless Cuban vessel engaged in commerce with a neutral country. Don’t you just see how the rest of the world will eat that story up? Oh, I know what you intended the world to think... that the Leona went down in the midst of a hurricane, and certainly it could be assumed that such an old ship would succumb to hurricane seas. But you’re out of luck, Fallon. It will be my story.”

“And us?”

“When accused of the act, you tried to take me captive and I had to shoot you both. Who would deny that possibility when they know of the three men lying dead on the wharf. Fallon, you’re better off dead. And me, I’ll live to work another day. I’ll see that my story is well supported and I don’t think the government will want to go into the matter any more than is necessary. They want no part of a shooting war.”

She smiled again and raised the gun a little higher. “Outside, please. We might as well keep it clean. I don’t want any shots heard — not just yet.”

She stepped back through the door as we came toward her.

Tuck’s words: There are still some of us left.

Yes, there were.

We stood in the fierce forefoot of Ingrid, with our clothes snapping around our legs, our faces stung by sand that was ripping by. I held Sharon as tightly as I could and kept walking. Lois was still backing up, almost ready to pull the trigger. We walked forward and kept on walking, the three of us that were left — two in the front and one behind and all the while the crazy scream of the wind was the only sound we could hear.

The gun came up, leveled on the last step Lois took, but in our faces she read that we had won after all. There were still some of us left like Tuck had said, two in front and one behind her.

She started to scream as she backed into the great churning blades of the prop on the Mustang and dissolved into a red, misty froth that was carried away in the gale.

Additional copyright information:

“Together We Kill.” Copyright © 1953 by Mickey Spillane.

“The Night I Died.” Copyright © 1998 by Mickey Spillane.

“I’ll Die Tomorrow.” Copyright © 1960 by Mickey Spillane.

“The Veiled Woman.” Copyright © 1952 by Mickey Spillane.

“The Affair with the Dragon Lady.” Copyright © 1962 by Mickey Spillane.

“The Dread Chinatown Man.” Copyright © 1975 by Mickey Spillane.

“Toys for the Man-Child.” Copyright © 1975 by Mickey Spillane.

“Hot Cat.” Copyright © 1964 by Mickey Spillane.