Mickey Spillane - The Deep

“Drop dead,” I said.

He caught me with one big meathook and launched me off my chair onto the floor and when I shook the tears out of my eyes I stood up, set the chair back and sat down.

“What do you think about that, Deep?”

This time I smiled. I shouldn’t have felt like that, but I was getting that crawly feeling again like I was going to explode and like with him, when I smiled, it showed. It was big and plain and real and I said, “Do it one more time, Hurd, and all of you will have to go on me, but buddy, you’ll go hard. If I don’t make it here there will be another time and another place. Keep your hands off.”

“Threats, Deep?”

“Just telling you, buddy.”

“So tell some more. Like about the blood in Bimmy’s place.”

“Suppose he tells you. It’s his joint.”

“Bimmy is scared. He isn’t talkative.”

“Aren’t they all.”

Hurd tipped the light up so I got it in the face a little better. “We’ll find somebody who saw who was in the back room.”

“Go ahead. Then get a complaint signed by them.”

“You seem to know how it works.”

“I’ve been in these places before,” I said.

“You’re right. We even have a record of the times. Would you like to see the records?”

“The hell with ’em. Arrests aren’t convictions.”

“You’re playing it too hard, Deep.”

“Is there a better way?”

“I hear you carry a gun.”

“You shook me down. Did I have one?”

“No, but I saw your belt out of shape like it happens when you wear a gun in a holster. Since when does a hood like you get so fancy as to wear it there?”

When I didn’t answer a throaty voice from the back said, “The old story is he wore a cop’s gun, Sergeant. He took it from a plain clothes man some of them downed.”

Hurd played it cute. “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot. He’s a cop fighter. Like he just told me about. Is that right, Deep?”

I shrugged. Let him sound off.

“But to get back... what about you? You after the guy who bumped your buddy?”

“He’d be nice to meet,” I said.

“Maybe you know who he is.”

“Not yet.”

“Supposing you find out?”

“I’ll be a good citizen. I’ll call the police.”

“You may not get the chance. We’ve picked up some more rumors that make you look like a bad bet. You aren’t liked.”

“I heard that too. I ought to call for police protection.”

Hurd moved in close, smiling again. “You’re a real wise guy, aren’t you, Deep? You got a big mouth.”

I saw it coming and rolled with it just enough. I came up off the floor with my right going out and caught Hurd in the nose and the blood went all over both of us. Before the others could get in he landed two in my stomach while he got two for himself in the kisser and for five seconds it was mine, all mine.

The sap across the back of my head made it his and when I kissed the cold stone floor of the room with the flat of my face there was a wild sound of noise in my ears. I was still face down when I came to and Hurd was sitting in the chair he had had me in with a doctor taking stitches in his face. Over by the door Wilson Batten was sounding like a lawyer, waving a paper around while the uniformed cop tried to talk him quiet.

I got up slowly, grinned at Hurd and turned it off when I looked at Batten. I said, “It damn well took you long enough to get here.”

Hurd swore softly. I wiped the dirt off my face and walked over to him. “I called Batten before I called you, friend. I figured somebody would make a try for my skin.”

“Shut up and get out of here.”

“The other three go with me.”

Batten said, “They’re all right, Deep. They can leave. I’ll have a paper on them in ten minutes otherwise.”

The doctor finished with Hurd’s mouth, gave him a prescription to fill that he crumpled up and tossed on the floor and picked up his tools. I let out a nasty laugh and said, “I told you not to play it tough, Hurd. Somebody has to take you.”

“Out, punk. There’ll be other times.”

“Sure.” I wiped my clothes off, found my hat on a chair by the door and nodded for Batten. He let me go ahead of him out to the desk and behind me Hurd stayed close.

Cat’s eyes went wide when he saw Hurd’s face. Augie, as usual, was impassive. But it was Helen who seemed to catch the whole thing in one swift glance. Intuitively, she knew what had happened and her emotions played hell with her promise. She was all the way on my side. Big, beautiful Irish Helen had proud eyes for me and a funny little grin that said, Damn, man, let’s go .

Wilson Batten waited until we were on the sidewalk outside the Green House before he gave me a light-lipped, “You’re absolutely nuts, Deep.”

“Not me, Wilse.”

“You don’t tear into anybody like Hurd.”

“You don’t play tough with me, either. Somebody had to tell him.”

“All right, but if he wanted to make something stick tonight he could damn well have done it. Instead he played it smart and let you run so he’d have more fun putting the heat on. Listen, Deep, Hurd isn’t any beat cop. He’s got his own special brand of hatred for guys like you and now you’re on his list. That’s almost like being dead.”

“You were lucky, Deep,” Cat said.

Augie broke into a smile for the first time. “Not him... us. We would have had our turn next.”

“See what I saved you, Helen?”

Her hand touched my arm. “Thanks.” Her eyes shadowed somewhat. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not me, kid.”

“Hell,” Cat said, “when this gets noised around about him bracing Hurd there won’t be a punk in the neighborhood who’ll step loud around us.”

I felt Helen squeezing my arm again, a nervous, impatient motion. Her voice was soft when she said, “Deep... does it have to be like... this?”

“I can’t think of any other way, kitten. Can you?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I guess not.”

“It’s an easy way of seeing me knocked off, if you remember.”

“I think I’d rather forget.”

Batten stepped out in the gutter and waved toward the far end of the street trying to flag a taxi. “Then you’d better start forgetting by getting out of here.”

Automatically, I felt my back pocket, then patted my coat. I said, “I left my wallet back there.”

Batten stepped back on the curb. “I’ll go get it.”

I stopped him right there. “My pleasure,” I said. “They don’t bother me at all in there. Let me have my fun.”

The desk sergeant frowned when I told him where my wallet probably was and sent a uniformed cop to go look for it. I half followed him down the hall and while he went the rest of the way I knocked on Hurd’s door, opened it and stepped inside. He threw a couple aspirins down his throat, washed them down with a glass of water and sat back as if he had never seen me before and waited to see what I had to say. I walked to his desk, took the pen from its holder, wrote a number down on his desk pad and said, “Buddy, I don’t want anybody on my back at all. In this town there are connections to be had and these I got, so do us both a big favor and call that number. But in case you’re feeling salty about that rap in the teeth, I’ll let you get that off your chest anytime.”

His eyes went to the pad, went colder still and when they looked back at me were even a paler blue than before, a light, deadly blue that was almost hypnotic with hate.

“You’re really trying for big time, aren’t you?”

“Never start at the bottom. There’s nothing like the catbird’s seat.”

“I’ll remember,” he said, his face blank.

I said, “How far are you going after Irish?”