Микки Спиллейн - The Delta Factor

“Go ahead, kid.”

“You reach Jolley in New York?”

“Affirmative,” Art said. “You started something up there. The guy’s shaking in his shoes, but he came through.”

“What’s the pitch?”

“All he did was nose around trying to pick up something on Bernice Case and Whitey Tass. Someplace along the line he made inquiries about Gorman Yard and the squeeze started. Joey Jolley recognized it as coming from Whitey Tass and right now he’s ready to cut out. He has something more, but he’s holding out for protection. I had to play it by ear, so I clued him in on how to get to me. If he makes it I’ll hold him here until you can speak to him.”

“Did he say what he knew?”

“He hinted at it,” Art told me. “Seems like he knows why Gorman Yard was bumped off.”

“Damn!” I exploded.

“He’ll be lucky if he can dodge Whitey Tass. I reached a couple of my own contacts who told me something has Tass excited enough to call in all his troops on this movement. Now, where do I go from here?”

“Get Jolley and hang onto him,” I said.

“Will do. Things okay there?”

I caught Rosa’s signal of tapping her watch impatiently and said, “Shaping up. I’ll call back.”

“Roger and out,” Art told me and switched off. I cut the power, flipped the dial off the frequency and put everything back the way it was.

Outside, the smell was just the same. The thing was there. I closed the door and turned around. “Juan Fucilla,” I said.

“In a few minutes,” she said. “It was difficult, but he will be here.”

“Sure?”

“Positive. He smells money.”

“What did you tell him?”

Rosa looked at me with a knowing little smile and said, “Money, of course. The love of which is the root of all evil.”

“Who am I supposed to be?”

“One of the many persons interested in supplying forbidden items to the inmates of the Rose Castle. It is a flourishing business here, señor.”

“Anything specific?”

“The usuaL Tobacco, alcohol, narcotics. The smuggling of messages. It is a, profitable arrangement for the guards.”

“If they’re caught?”

“Nobody bothers to investigate. It is the accepted way of things. Corruption breeds corruption. Since everyone is involved it is unlikely that they are interested in upsetting the system.” She glanced impatiently at her watch again. “He is due here momentarily.”

As if on cue, a heavy hand banged on the door. Once again, Rosa doused the lights, admitted her visitor and turned the lights back on again.

Juan Fucilla was a short, swarthy man in his late forties, with a shifty, predatory expression creased into the folds of flesh around his eyes. There was a touch of official impertinence in the way he acknowledged the introduction and slid into a chair. He pulled a silver case from his pocket, studiously ignored me and poked a vicious-looking black cigar between his thin lips and lit the end of it.

“Now, señor,” he said, “Rosa tells me you have business to discuss.”

I let a good ten seconds pass before I answered him so he’d get the message. At the end of it he licked his lips nervously and fidgeted with the cigar. I said, “If I have to go over your head, forget it.”

His smile of assurance was as quick as it was phony. “You have to look no further, senor. I can make all arrangements…”

“What’s the bite?”

He started an eloquent shrug but I cut him off. “Don’t give me any crap, buddy. I’m not here to dicker. Just lay it on the line. If I like it, maybe I’ll go for it. If not… there are other ways.”

My tone wiped the indignation out of his voice. He shrugged again, this time with resignation. “Usually it is fifty-fifty, señor…”

“But this time it will be sixty-forty with me on the big end.”

“But señor…”

“When I take the risks I get the big chunk. Once the deal is made and anybody tries to pat me down I guarantee they get hurt. This isn’t amateur night. Now, do we take it from there?”

Fucilla grunted through his cigar smoke and nodded. “You drive a hard bargain, but perhaps it can be a profitable one after all.” He looked at me through narrow eyes. “You can supply what is necessary?”

“Anything,” I told him. “What’s in demand?”

“At the moment there is a shortage in certain… narcotics. Other markets bring higher prices, so naturally there is a shortage here. If you can arrange…”

“Where does the money come from?”

His fake smile held a lot of meaning. “Most of those in the Rose Castle are political prisoners, señor. Naturally, they come from families of wealth who have since left for other areas. However, they do pay for… shall we say, requirements of those who were left behind?”

“The picture’s clear. One more thing. How were they addicted?”

He didn’t try to shake it off. He gave another of those shrugs and said, “As usual. They believed medicine was being administered. It is necessary to keep them so from becoming politically active again.”

“Okay,” I said. “Now give me a rundown on the clientele and the distribution.”

He didn’t bother to analyze my question. Instead, he simply rattled off names that didn’t mean anything to me until he included Victor Sable, told me that distribution was taken care of by the guards, the payoff going to the ranking officers, with the biggest cut reserved for Russo Sabin. Payment would be made on delivery of the shipment, with collections going through Russo’s office well screened by a lot of paperwork. No questions would be asked and for agenting the deal Fucilla got 5 percent of my end.

I took my time before I said, “The cut’s steep enough. It’s easy to see why you have a shortage of the stuff here. Not many other guys would want to buy in on the deal.”

His little eyes glinted at me. “Not unless they have a rather unusual source of supply.” His fingers stroked the cigar and spun it around between his lips again. “Perhaps you do.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”

“Ah, then we can do business,” he said pleasantly.

“Maybe.”

“There is something else?”

I nodded. “I don’t like setting myself up for a target. If there’s money behind those guys in the Castle and one. of them kicks off, there’s enough money to buy me a casket. Hot-tempered Latin types with close family ties hold a grudge a long time. They could buy my name and get me picked off and that I don’t like.”

Fucilla frowned, watching me closely. “So?”

“So I want to see those clients personally. Healthy addicts I can supply. If they’re ready to kick off, forget it.”

“I can assure you…” he bristled.

“Balls,” I said. “I see it for myself or it’s no deal. I can make out someplace else. It happens that I’m here and I can clear a nice profit, but I want to live to spend it. Dodging some contract killer those families could hire isn’t up my alley.”

Fucilla thought it over a moment, then bobbed his head. “In that case, we would demand assurances too.”

“Like what?”

“Your ability to deliver and the quality of your merchandise.”

“Fine,” I told him. “You’ll get a sample to analyze with a full shipment available immediately after I see who’s getting it.” I paused, then: “Now, do I import openly or use my own methods?”

His smile had a little humor in it. “I suggest, señor, that you adopt your own ways. Our present government must put on a front, so to speak; therefore they are against the traffic in narcotics and will not hesitate to confiscate what they find for the sake of publicity. However, I can mention that they are most lenient in their approach to prevention of such events.”