Роберт Беллем - Pulp Frictions

As for the doctor slipping away on me, he couldn’t do it. Two of the sharpest shadows in New York would be on his heels. He’d soon know that, and feel the fear of the hunted criminal. He’d have to produce the girl. Just a few hours stood between him and the road which leads to the electric chair.

At six o’clock, almost to the dot, he walked into my office. And he was alone — and he was a wreck. I almost felt like taking him for a tour of the country, as a living example that crime doesn’t pay.

‘You’ve double-crossed me — you’ve betrayed me. They are down by the door now. They’ve been following me.’

‘So you wanted to beat it. Where’s the girl?’

‘Those men are not — police officers?’

‘Not a chance.’ I shook my head. ‘They know nothing about you — just obeying my orders. Now — what of the girl?’

‘I couldn’t bring her,’ he told me. ‘Don’t... don’t,’ he cried as I reached for the phone. ‘Everything that you accuse me of is true — except that I am but a tool. Ferganses planned things. I had stolen money. I was desperate. I was in debt. The girl is very rich yet. But I will lead you to them — to her. Ferganses’ pal, Farro, was in the house when you came. They plan a final coup. It is for me to cash the cheque because I am known at the bank. They will torture her to sign, but I will lead you to the house — to them — to her.’

Could I believe him? Was he a great actor or an awful bust? I’d have to chance it. There was no doubt that the girl was in grave danger. Still, I didn’t intend to play any Goldy Locks for the three bears. If this lad would double-cross his friends, he would double-cross me at the last moment. There was just one person he’d play straight with. That was — himself. I knew his kind. Like a prize fighter who is hot stuff when he’s winning, but who hollers ‘foul’ at the first real crack in the breadbasket, such was the doctor. When he was hurt he squawked.

‘What’s the plan?’ I asked him.

‘Listen—’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I have been most careful. I told them that you suspect, and I told them also that you want the girl. But I saw I was at fault there. And I saw, too, that suspicion was entering their heads. Ferganses I spoke to on the phone. Farro, at my house. To them there is no advantage in giving up the girl. And they tell me to tell you that she dies if you go to the police — but if you let her pay them the money, then she can go.’

‘How will they arrange to get the money? The bank will be suspicious of large amounts.’ And I eyed him closely.

‘That is for me to arrange.’ He gulped. ‘The bank knows me. I can do it. You think perhaps it is best?’

‘No. I don’t think perhaps it is best.’ I stood over him as he crouched there in the chair. ‘The girl goes free tonight — or you burn. You knew that — what else have you planned? What is this idea of leading me to them?’

‘That could be done.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘I am to see them tonight — to get a cheque from the girl. So I could bring you to them. But they are desperate men — you might have to kill Ferganses.’

‘That’s agreeable,’ I told him.

‘And me — I go free. You remember your promise. They do not deserve consideration from me. They did not trust me. It was not until the girl saw them that she doubted me. It is their own fault. If they had played the game I would not—’

‘That’s right.’ I agreed with his attempt to tell himself what a real guy he was.

He came to his feet and clutched me by the arm.

‘You will not have me arrested? I shall have my chance to leave the country if I do this thing? You are a brave man — you shoot quick. You will come on them from behind. They will fight, and you will kill them.’ And he got to rubbing his hands again.

‘Where are they keeping the girl?’

‘In Jersey. I will lead you to the place — we will drive there together.’

‘Just where, in Jersey?’

He smiled, in what he considered a knowing way.

‘Just where?’ I stretched out a hand and took him by the throat. ‘You don’t think you can fool me any longer!’ And, indeed, I was growing impatient. I thought of Bernie; of her youth; of her childish simplicity; of her bringing-up in a convent, and now being in the hands of those two cut-throats.

‘I don’t dare tell you yet — because I am afraid you will tell the police. Don’t... don’t!’ he screamed, as my fingers closed the tighter about his thin neck. And then, ‘I will tell.’

And he did. Just beyond Newark. Did I believe him? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was heartily sick of this detective business. It isn’t in my line. What I need is action. What I generally get is action. If it was a trap, all well and good; my guns were loaded and oiled. If it was shooting the boys wanted, they were welcome to it.

Some may question my right — my ethics — in letting him go if I saved the girl. And I’ll admit there’s room for argument there. But I must play the game as I see it. After all, it’s my business and I must run it my own way. Besides, there was the possibility that he wasn’t on the level, and I might have to slip a bit of lead into his miserable carcass anyway. And that was a thought worth imparting to the crouching dog who seemed to think of nothing but his own safety.

‘You understand the situation thoroughly,’ I said to him gravely, for I was not fooling. ‘You are to lead me to the girl; you are to lead me so that my coming will be a complete surprise to these pals of yours. You will always be ahead of me — never behind me, and my gun will cover you. You could lead me to a trap where I would be killed. That is possible, but not probable. But it is impossible that you could live. At the first sign of suspicion I’ll put a bullet in your back. Don’t labour under any delusion that I’m too high-hat and nobleminded to shoot a man in cold blood. You know my record. So — we understand each other.’

His cheeks whitened and his eyes sank the deeper as he nodded, but back in his head might be the hope of betraying me. He felt, maybe, that his time would come. He felt, perhaps, that Ferganses would not be taken alive, and while we shot it out would come his chance. And I smiled to myself. Just before any shooting started the good doctor would be tapped bye-bye with the barrel of my gun. Not a pretty thought, maybe — but, then, I don’t go in for pretty thoughts.

As we waited for a later hour to depart the doctor’s spirits grew brighter and he began to look on me as his partner, and confided in me. It seems that he didn’t trust these other men, anyway, and that he had intended to double-cross them in the long run. From his story they had gotten a few thousand from the girl. It was his idea to take the money in easy stages, but his friends were all for quick action. He didn’t exactly tell me that he had killed Bernie’s mother — signed the death certificate and framed Bernie in Italy, but he didn’t need to. He was all rotten — and more than once he hinted at the pile of jack I could make if I helped him out.

I wasn’t mad and I didn’t fly at him. I just smiled to myself. If he made a false move and I plugged him, I’d have an easy conscience. Let him think he was a bright boy and encouraged him to go on — and I found out how Nick had gotten his. Nick had been paid earlier in the evening to let the two swarthy lads cart out Bernie. But at that time he knew nothing, and he hadn’t suspected I was in the game until he saw one of the Italians lying in the hall. But Nick double-crossed me for the money that was in it then and the blackmail he felt certain would follow. And Nick had run quickly around the corner and seen Doctor Maderia’s big car with the doctor in it, with the chloroformed girl and the whozzle-headed lad I had cracked. But Nick hadn’t seen the swarthy Ferganses, who had dropped behind for the purpose of seeing if Nick would attempt to follow.