Brett Halliday - I Come to Kill You

Gentry said, “Tony Barbieri is here from Boston.”

“He’d be a nice catch.”

“Where’s this going to take place?”

“It’ll have to be on the island. De Blasio won’t put his head out until this is settled, and they’ll realize they have to come to him. I’d prefer to use local cops for the bust. It’s my town. But if you don’t feel like playing, I’ll try to understand, and bring in the FBI. I have a vague hunch they’ll be delighted. I think the director will be tempted to lead it in person.”

“You’re a son of a bitch, Shayne.”

“I know I have that reputation.”

“What about that bomb you were talking about, was that just talk?”

“Hell, no. I’m hoping to make some noise, so they’ll know I’m there. Burns was being cagey about how many men he could suit up — about twenty, I think. They’ll come across in two boats. We’ll need the Harbor Police, and we’ll need helicopters. Plenty of flares. You ought to have at least four cars to block the causeway. Collect the choppers at the Watson Park heliport. It’s too bad we can’t run a rehearsal, but be loaded and ready, and take off when you hear the explosion. If anything goes wrong with that, I’ll set one of the houses on fire. You ought to show up at just the right time. Drop the flares and come in yelling. I think you’ll start a nice little panic without much shooting. These are hoodlums, after all, not GIs.”

Gentry sighed. “Goddamn it, I don’t withdraw any of the things I said, but I have to admit I like it.”

“If we can believe him, maybe we can take off the handcuffs, Hugh.”

“I think so. It’s a cop’s dream, after all.”

He felt in all his pockets, and finally found the key and unlocked the cuffs. Gentry massaged his chafed wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this six months ago?”

“I couldn’t take that kind of chance, Will. It had to be a real break.” He grinned. “And it was more interesting this way.”

“You couldn’t have planned the whole thing. You’re not that big a genius.”

“I set up the situation and let it develop. I’ve got one other little thing going for me. I remembered hearing some rumors about Carlo’s social life in college, and I did some research. The one disgrace a Mafia don really can’t stand is having a fruity son. I wouldn’t have risked any of this without that ace in the hole, and the funny thing is, I haven’t had time to use it. I still want to try to work it in — everything helps. Hugh, there’s something I want you to do while Will is getting this arranged.”

“Actually,” MacDougall said, “I’d like to go along in one of those helicopters. Why not?”

“Because I want you to stay alive so you can sign checks. Tim Rourke’s at Mercy Hospital. If he isn’t too doped up, tell him what’s happened to date. I’ll meet you there.”

Before leaving, he took another five minutes to go over the schedule again to be sure it was understood. The more Gentry thought about it, the better he liked it.

“God knows I’ve been looking for a pretext to get on that island. One thing, though, Mike, no matter how well it works, things are going to be different. There’s such a thing as being too tricky. From now on I’ll never know whether or not to trust you.”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Shayne said.

The flight from New Orleans was late.

One of the disembarking passengers was a handsome blond young man with a shoulder handbag, carrying a long-stemmed white carnation. He came up to Shayne and said in an agreeable voice, “You’re Mike.”

“Philly Tucker?”

“Oh, yes.”

The youth gave Shayne a frank, open-eyed, smiling appraisal. He was tall and slender, and the only thing about his appearance to indicate that he might be a homosexual was the obvious care he had taken with his clothes. Everything matched except the things that weren’t supposed to match, and they clashed in an interesting way. He smelled of whiskey and after-shave perfume.

“I’m so glad you chose me.”

“I had a good reason for choosing you, Philly, and I’ll tell you about it on the way in.”

“Could we stop for a drink first, for sociability’s sake? To break the ice? Not that I’m not already partially plowed. I adore boozing on airplanes. Those repulsive little canapés.”

“What were you drinking?”

“Bourbon and branch, thanks.”

Shayne asked him his brand, left him in the main concourse, and stopped at a stand-up bar for a double I. W. Harper to go. Philly took it with thanks and let Shayne carry his bag.

In the car, he gave Shayne another admiring glance. “You know, you’re even more attractive than I expected? Has anybody ever told you you have woodsman’s arms?”

Shayne laughed, starting the motor. “Not too often.”

“I know, I know,” Philly said, holding up his hand. “I have to be chary with compliments. This isn’t the ordinary one-night stand.”

“How much did Wellington tell you?”

“Not much, but I deduced. From the amount of money you’re paying, and one thing and another. I’m probably a present for somebody?”

“You guessed it.”

“Well, Mike, I do wish it was you, but I’m ready for anything. I hate to get in a rut. One private detective asks another private detective in a different town to send him some fast trade. At five hundred dollars plus transportation, which is suspiciously high! And the thought jumped into my mind. This would be a gay variation on the age-old badger game, I assume?”

“That’s close.”

Philly laughed and drank as Shayne wheeled the Buick out of the parking lot.

“Yes,” Philly said with satisfaction. “I put it together, and that’s what I decided. The husband and the lad from New Orleans carrying on scandalously in the sack, and the wife and the private detective walk in with a camera. I suppose I was referred? I did it for somebody else once, and the fact is, I did rather enjoy it. The sex was a tick more intense. I mean, knowing what was coming.” He slid closer to Shayne. “Are you planning on photographs?”

“I haven’t decided. It depends partly on what you can tell me.” He swung out of the ramp onto the expressway, and the needle began to climb. “Do you remember a kid at college named Carl De Blasio?”

“Oh,” Philly said, freezing. In a moment, in a slightly less frivolous tone, he continued, “I remember dear Carlo well. And that makes it more of a challenge, doesn’t it?”

“He married a nice Italian girl who makes her own bread.”

“I make a pretty good loaf myself,” Philly said. “Did he have to come back and go into the gangster business after all, poor lamb?”

“He’s number-two man in Miami,” Shayne said. “If you don’t want the trick, say so and I’ll turn around at the next interchange.”

Philly rattled the ice. “Can we do it without gunfire?”

“I don’t know why not.”

Philly adjusted the window to let the wind hit his face. Shayne came up to the interchange and swept past without slackening speed.

Philly said in a quiet voice, “You know, I’d like to see Carl, see what would happen.” He drank deeply. “I don’t mind danger! It adds something. I’ve been shot at once or twice. Once, to be accurate, and I honestly didn’t mind. After I calmed down, I was glad it happened. Ordinary life gets so deadly and predictable.”

“Do you think he’ll be glad to see you?”

“Glad?” Philly laughed musically. “He’ll be terrified. He’s put that part of his life behind him, I’m sure he thinks. He’ll climb up the wall.”

“Then this may not work.”

“I’m exaggerating. I’m talking about that first minute. He always had double feelings — he used to love it and hate it, and you know that made it hard on the person he was with. He could be nice for long periods, really gentle and giving, and all of a sudden so cold, so brutal. Which I didn’t mind sometimes! And then he’d be miserable afterward. Yes, I think I want to see Carl very much.”