Роберт Беллем - Pulp Frictions

At the mention of them the fear shot back into her face again. ‘Will you... can you get me out of this place?’

‘Absolutely,’ I told her, and meant it.

‘These are desperate men — they would have taken me by force tonight — they would have killed you without hesitating. They would kill you without thought.’

‘But they’ll give considerable thought to it after they make the first attempt.’ I smiled down at her. And then, ‘Why didn’t you call out when they led you from the room tonight? You were too frightened?’

‘Yes,’ she said quickly, and then — her cheeks whitening beneath the rouge — ‘Partly that; but I was afraid.’

‘Of what?’

She hesitated; and I cut in again.

‘Of the police, Bernie?’ I asked.

And this time she jerked back against the table.

‘How did — you know that?’ she stammered.

Mind reading? Maybe. But I simply smiled. People who don’t fear the police for some reason or other, don’t want me. Bernie very easily could have hollered herself in a cop or two most any time, yet she hadn’t. And the answer, of course, was that she didn’t want one.

‘It is true.’ She finally cocked her head up half defiantly. ‘But I am not bad — or if I was it was for a good purpose — an all-compelling purpose. You will not help me?’

‘There are laws and laws,’ I told her. ‘I have my own ethics and I am my own judge of right and wrong. But I’ll do this for you. I’ll see you safely away from here. I won’t help you beat the law, without knowing the facts — but I’ll help you beat this gang you fear.’

‘How much must I tell you?’

‘As little or as much as you please.’

‘How much must I pay you?’ She hesitated.

‘You have paid enough for that service. If you want to open up later, why—’

‘I want to tell you now,’ she cried suddenly. ‘I don’t want you thinking I’m bad. My mother was an Italian, but I am an American. I was born in this country. My father died — my mother sang upon the stage. There was money from my father, and I went to a convent in Italy. Then from a doctor I received word that my mother was sick and might die. I had little money, but enough — so I went to Naples to sail for New York. And there I was robbed — there, with the boat about to sail, I was without money — and my mother dying.’ She wiped away a tear — real stuff, too — and continued:

‘There I met a lady to whom I confided my trouble. She helped me — arranged my passage — but I must do something for her. So I became bad. I smuggled in some diamonds. I knew it was wrong; I knew that I shouldn’t — but I did it. My mother was dying. That is my crime. That is my secret, for which I pay money to hide. My guardian helped me. And then I began to fear him and think that perhaps he had so arranged things. And he used my money, and his eyes burned when they watched me, and once, when I would run away — but enough—’

‘Who is your guardian, Bernie — and what is his name?’ I asked her.

‘I think — all that I shall not tell. I only wish to run away and hide myself. From time to time I can send him money, and he may be satisfied and leave me alone. But I have seen him talk friendly with one I considered my enemy — one who received money to keep my secret. The tall man below, whom I have heard called Ferganses — the one you put out the door. You see, I fear him; I fear my guardian; and I fear this government that would punish me for my crime, for they did not know and would not understand my desire to see my mother. But my mother had died before I reached New York.’ And she started in to turn on the water works again.

‘You have money, Bernie — much money?’

‘It is considerable. I could stand it no longer. I ran away, but I did not know where to go. My guardian had sent me to the bank, and I drew out a large sum of money and left. Then I was afraid — and I met a girl who was kind and brought me here. They must have suspected — sought me out. This girl spoke of you, and I sent for you.’

I could have laughed, but I didn’t. Bernie’s face made it all ring with sincerity. Poor kid — no doubt this guardian was behind the whole show and played the fear of the government up in her imagination. It wouldn’t be hard — Bernie had ‘convent’ written all over her. To her it was a horrible crime. It was certainly lucky that Bernie got me instead of some private detective who’d prey on her fears and take most of her money to straighten things out with the government. But I don’t play the game that way. I’d soon put her wise that her fears were groundless. I know the ropes and I know men, and I know a good fixer.

‘Bernie,’ I started — and stopped, swung about suddenly and flung open the door. It was with considerable effort that Nick, the proprietor, saved himself from pitching forward upon the floor.

‘Well—’ I jerked him erect. ‘Why the Little Bo Beep act?’

‘You — joke,’ he stammered — caught his breath and faced me with a scowl. ‘I should go for the police,’ he snapped suddenly. ‘If I had known why you came here, Race Williams, and what trouble you would bring my house, I— But you must go at once — I will help you.’

‘Why must we go?’ I watched that shrewd, fat face with its mean, snapping little eyes.

‘Because him you thrust out has returned. He demands that this girl come to him. He is of your disposition, and threats.’

‘Why not send for the police?’ There was one thing certain about Nick — he’d take care of himself.

‘I do not desire the police here. This is an honest club; but people lie about it, and the reputation must not get too bad. Besides, then I would make an enemy of three divisions — the police, these people who seek the girl, and you.’

I understood that point of view all right. Certainly, Nick and the police would have little in common. As for me, perhaps he was right there, too. Bernie and I didn’t seek the cops. But the others; if I went with the girl they wouldn’t be any too friendly towards Nick. And he straightened that point out before I could put the question to him.

‘Come — I wish for peace,’ he shot in on my thoughts. ‘You take her out the back way. I want not to see her face some more. Then, you are satisfied with Nick; then these strangers can be convinced that she did not linger here, but went at once. But hurry.’

‘Can we get out the back without being seen?’

‘It is so. When I am notified of raids, it is through the alley in the back that the guests leave. Shall I show you?’

And I guess he could. These people were strangers to Nick’s place — they would not know of the back way. Or would they? But I shrugged my shoulders. Bernie and I would do our stuff out the rear entrance. The next move was up to them. If those fellows couldn’t shoot any straighter than they talked, they’d regret their lack of education.

Nick led the way down the long hall to the rear of the building. He was in a hurry and nervous. Guess he must have remembered that bit of gun play on the Avenue, when he was a waiter. Another thing — Nick was the sort that could see a nickel a mile, and here he was helping me show a clean pair of heels to Bernie’s little playmates without asking a cent for it. That wasn’t like Nick, and I chuckled inwardly. It all went to show how anxious he was to see the last of me.

Yet, with all his anxiety, he was prepared to see that no time was lost. Over his arm was swung a heavy, hooded cape for the girl, and he had also brought my coat and hat.

We passed some place back of the music, took a quick twist, and stood in a dark, cold little vestibule. Outside, the wind whistled and the zero night crept between the cracks, and through the dirty, musty glass above the door were the outlines of buildings — the lower city’s tenements. Here and there was a small patch of the blue sky reflected behind the sharp brightness of half a dozen stars. The night was as clear and bright as it could be without a moon.