Mickey Spillane - My Gun Is Quick

Lola went rigid and she breathed my name. I saw what she meant. One of the guys at the bar was Feeney Last. I wasn't interested in him right then. The other was the guy I had beat the hell out of in the parking lot. The one I thought might have been looking for his car keys. My conscience felt much better when I looked at the wreck of his nose. The bastard was after the ring.

Lola read my mind again. "Are... you going in... after him?" I wanted to. God, how I wanted to! I couldn't think of anything I'd sooner do. Feeney Last, right here where I could get to him. Man, oh man, the guy sure felt secure. After all, what did the cops have on him? Not a damn thing... and if anything hung over his head he was the only one that had an idea where it could be found. Except me.

And I was supposed to be dead.

We didn't go in the Albino Club after all. I snatched my hat back from the rack and pushed Lola outside. The doorman was cut to the quick yet able to nod good night politely.

On the corner of Broadway a glorified dog-wagon was doing a land-office business in late snacks. When I saw the blue-and-white phone disc on the front I steered Lola in, told her to order us some coffee, then went down the back to the phone booth.

Pat was home. He must have just gotten in because he was breathing hard from the stairs. I said, "This is Mike, kid. I just saw Feeney Last in the Albino Club with a guy I tangled with not long ago. Can you put a man on him? I have things to do or I'd tail him myself."

"You bet!" Pat exploded. "I've had him on the wires for over two hours. Every police car in the city is looking for him."

It puzzled me. "What... ?"

"I had a teletype from the Coast. It's Feeney they want out there for that murder. He answers the description in every respect."

Something prompted me to ask, "What kind of a kill was it, Pat?"

"He broke the guy's neck in a brawl. He started off with a knife, lost it in the scuffle, then broke his neck."

A chill crept up my back and I was in that hallway again, feeling the cut of a smashing blow under my ear. There wasn't any doubt about it now, not the slightest. Feeney had more than one technique. He could kill with a rod or a knife, and with his hands if he had to.

"The Albino Club, Pat. You know where it is. He's there. I'm going to race the patrol car and if I win you'll need the dead wagon."

I slammed the phone back and shoved my way through the crowd at the counter. Lola was looking for me and she didn't have to be told that something had happened. When I went past her as though she wasn't there she called after me and spun off her stool, but by that time I was on the street and running, running as fast as I could go and the few people on the sidewalk got out of the way to stare after me with their mouths dropping open.

My gun was in my hand when I took the corner. My chest was a ball of fire that ejected the air in quick, hot gasps and all I could think of was smashing the butt end of the rod in Feeney's face. From far off I heard the wail of a siren, a low moaning that put speed in my feet and craving desire to get there first.

We both lost. In the yellow light of the street I saw a car pull away from the curb and when I got outside the Albino Club Feeney Last and his friend had left.

I found out why in a minute. There was, a radio at the bar and Feeney had persuaded the bartender to keep it on police-calls just for laughs. He had the laugh, all right. He was probably howling his goddamn head off.

Pat arrived seven minutes after the patrol car. By that time, Lola had caught up to me and stood to one side catching her breath. As usual, the curious had formed a tight ring around us and the cops were busy trying to disperse them. Pat said, "It's a hell of a note. You didn't get the make of the car?"

I shook my head. "Only that it was a dark one. The doorman didn't notice either. Goddamn, that makes me mad!"

A reporter pushed his way through the cordon ready to take notes. Pat told him tersely, "The police will issue an official statement later." The guy wouldn't take it for an answer and tried to quiz the cops, but they didn't know any more than the police-call told them; to close in on the Albino Club and hold anyone from leaving.

I stepped back into the crowd and Pat followed. I couldn't press my luck too far. I was still dead and I might as well stay that way for a while if I could. I leaned up against the fender of a car and Pat stayed close. Lola came over and held my hand.

"How's it going, Pat?"

"Not good. I'm catching hell. It's coming at me from all directions now and I don't know which way to turn. Somebody has one devil of a lot of pull in this town, They're talking, too, enough to put the papers wise. The reporters are swarming around headquarters looking for leads. I can't give them anything and they jump me for it. The publicity is going to cause a lot of eyebrow-lifting tomorrow."

There was a determined set to his jaw anyway. Pat could dish it out, too. His time was coming. "What are you doing about it?"

His grin wasn't pleasant. "We staged a couple of raids tonight. Remember what you said about the police knowing things... and still having to let them go on?" I nodded. "I used handpicked men. They raided two fancy houses uptown and came up with a haul that would make your eyes pop out. We have names now, and charges to go with them. Some of the men we netted in the raid tried to bribe my officers and are going to pay through the nose for it!"

"Brother!"

"They're scared, Mike. They don't know what we have or what we haven't and they can't take, chances. Between now and tomorrow the lid will be off City Hall unless I miss my guess. They're scared and worried."

"They should be."

Pat waited, his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth.

"Nancy had been working at a scheme. Oh, it was a pretty little scheme that I thought involved petty blackmail. I think it went further than that."

"How much further?"

I looked at Lola. "In a day or two... maybe we can tell you then."

"My legs have a long way to go yet," she said.

"What are you getting at?" Pat asked.

"You'll find out. By the way, have you got things set up for tomorrow night?"

Pat lit a cigarette and flipped the burnt match into the gutter. "You know, I'm beginning to wonder who's running my department. I'm sure as hell not."

But he was smiling when he said it.

"Yeah, we're ready. The men are picked, but they haven't been told their assignments. I don't want any more leaks."

"Good! They'll pull their strings and when they find that doesn't work they'll pull their guns. We beat them at that and they're up the tree, ready for the net. Meanwhile we have to be careful. It's rough, Pat, isn't it?"

"Too rough. The city can be damn dirty if you look in the right places."

I ground out my butt under my heel. "They talk about the Romans. They only threw human beings into a pit with lions. At least, then, the lions had a wall around them so they couldn't get out. Here they hang out in bars and on the street corners looking for a meal."

The crowd had thinned out and the cops were back in the car trying to brush off the reporter. Another car with a press tag on the window swerved to a stop and two stepped out. I didn't want to wait around. Too many knew me by sight. I told Pat so-long and took off up the street with Lola trotting alongside me.

I drove her to the apartment and she insisted I come up for the coffee I didn't have before. It was quiet up here, the absolute early-morning quiet that comes when the city has gone to bed and the earliest risers haven't gotten up yet. The street had quieted down, too. Even an occasional horn made an incongruous sound in that unnatural stillness.