Donald Hamilton: The Shadowers

I started to shout at her. Hell, Kroch was mine. I tried to yell at her to leave him alone. I didn't want him full of bullet-holes, I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. Then common sense returned, a little, and I realized this was no place to be standing up in. I threw myself down, but a ricochet beat me to it. I felt a heavy blow above the ear, and things went bright red, and the redness faded slowly into black, but not before I'd heard the.38 click empty and Kroch fall.

"Paul," somebody said breathlessly. "Paul, wake up. Please wake up!"

I opened my eyes. Olivia was kneeling beside me.

"Kroch?" I whispered.

"He's dead. Paul, I'm sorry."

Well, she should be sorry, shooting down people other people had promised themselves the pleasure of killing

I pulled my thoughts together and realized she'd been apologizing for a different reason. She didn't know we'd been working on the wrong man. She thought she'd spoiled everything by putting Kroch where he'd never talk.

I remembered belatedly that I was an agent of sorts, not an avenging angel wielding the sword of retribution. There was a man I was supposed to find, a wicked old man with white hair. I wasn't any closer to finding him than I'd ever been. Or was I? I looked up at Olivia.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" I asked.

"Well, you don't act very grateful!" she protested. When I didn't speak, she went on: "I couldn't let you get killed. It was suicidal, going after an armed, trained man with nothing but a hypodermic. It was crazy! I made Jack Braithwaite bring me here." She gave a strained little laugh. "I pointed your gun at him and made him drive me, just like in the movies. To hell with Emil Taussig! I don't give a damn if they never find him!"

"Don't swear, Doc," I said. After a little, 1 asked, "What's the damage?"

"You have a.22 bullet in your leg. It will have to come out later. I just stopped the bleeding temporarily."

I said, "Hell, we just dug a slug out of there last year. I seem to stop everything with that one damn leg. And my head."

"You may have a slight concussion." She held out her hand and showed me a flattened bullet. "That's what hit you. I didn't know they would splash and bounce like that. I thought Pd killed you!"

"Where's Jack Braithwaite?" I asked. I still didn't feel energetic enough to sit up and look around.

"Here, sir."

He came into my field of vision, and he wasn't alone. He was supporting the little blonde nurse on one arm. She was still in her uniform and her silly, formal hairdo; but she didn't look quite as fresh and glowing as she had in the Flamingo Lounge. She'd seen violence and death since then.

I said, "You seem to have misinterpreted my instructions, Mr. Braithwaite. That's not the lady I instructed you to keep safe, if necessary at the cost of your life."

He licked his lips. "Sir, she had a gun-"

"So? Where did she shoot you? You don't seem to be bleeding very copiously. And what the hell are you doing here?" I asked Dottie Darden.

She looked indignant. "Why ask me? You sound as if I had a choice! When somebody has a little time, I'd appreciate being told what this is all about!" Anger made her strong enough to stand alone. She freed herself from Braithwaite's supporting arm. "Stop pawing me you.

you phony Romeo! Using my apartment and pretending. Keep your hands to yourself!"

Olivia said to me, "I couldn't very well leave her by the telephone, Paul. I didn't think you'd want police interference. I made her come along."

I said, "I can't recall asking for any interference before twelve thirty-three." Her expression changed. I said wearily, "Ah, hell. Pass that, Doc." She was still looking at me resentfully. I wasn't acting like a man whose life had been saved at the last desperate minute, I guess. Well, maybe I wouldn't have made it to Kroch after all. Nobody'd ever know now, and it wasn't worth arguing about. "And don't worry about friend Kroch, he wasn't our man," I said. "Where's your tame Ben Casey, Doc? Where's the Apollo of the medical profession? I have a question to ask him as soon as he's recovered from his terrible ordeal, or maybe a little sooner."

"Harold?" She was still frowning, but in a different way. "What do you want to ask Harold?"

"I want to ask him," I said, "why he isn't dead." She was silent, and I went on. "I told you how it would be. I said Kroch would kill them both, and he should have. He killed Toni Vail."

"I know. I… I'm sorry, Paul."

I said, "What I want to know is, just what did Dr. Harold Mooney say that kept him alive. He must have talked very fast and he must have had some real good points to make. He must have been able to claim some friends in high places, for Kroch not to kill him, and I'm not talking about the Pensacola Chamber of Commerce or the American Medical Association. I want to know what he said. I want to know how a crumb like Mooney talked himself out of a bullet when Toni…" I checked myself. That was, after all, beside the point.

"Paul, please take it easy," Olivia said. "It isn't good for you to talk so much, or get so excited."

I laughed at that. I looked up at her and said, "We had it figured that Mooney was Kroch's accomplice at one point, remember? Well, we were wrong but we were only half wrong, as I see it now. He wasn't working for Kroch, but he was somebody's accomplice all right. And when it came to a showdown, with Kroch's gun pointing at his head, he used that somebody's name to save himself. He told Kroch something interesting enough so that instead of shooting him Kroch filed him for future reference, meaning to cash in on the information after taking care of me."

"Couldn't he-" Olivia hesitated. "Couldn't Harold just have offered money?"

"Is that what he says? Don't be naive, Doc. You don't buy off people like Kroch, not with the kind of money Harold could offer. But sometimes you can arouse their curiosity by showing them a big game they might want to take a hand in, on one side or the other. It's the only deal Mooney could possibly have made, and he would have had to spill everything he knew, very plausibly, to make it stick. And if he could spill it to Kroch, he can spill it to me."

"No," Olivia said.

I couldn't read her expression. I looked quickly up at the other two standing over me, and they were regarding me oddly. They looked uneasy, maybe even guilty.

"What do you mean, no?" I asked sharply. "Where is he? You didn't let him get away?"

I tried to rise. Olivia held me down. She started to speak and changed her mind. There was a funny look about her eyes, as if she were close to crying. It was the blonde nurse who spoke at last.

"Dr. Mooney isn't… I mean, he's dead."

I stared up at her, and at Olivia, who turned away, biting her lip. I looked back to Dottie.

"The hell he's dead, Miss Darden! How come? He was thrashing around vigorously enough when I got here!"

She shook her head. "He was unconscious when we came in. Jack and I went right to him while Dr. Mariassy took care of you. Jack helped me cut him loose and get the gag off. He didn't respond. His pulse was very weak. I called Dr. Mariassy and we tried artificial respiration but it didn't help. We couldn't bring him around."

There was a little silence. I looked at Olivia. "I don't like asking, Doc, but it wasn't another of your ricochets?"

She shook her head. "No. There was no wound, Paul. He simply died. It may have been a heart condition, aggravated by fear and partial strangulation. The gag was very tight."

"Heart condition?" I said slowly. I heard myself laugh. It wasn't a very nice laugh. "Doc, you're kidding. Do you expect me to believe that the one man I needed to talk to died of heart failure? You're an optimist if you do." I looked at the other two. "Or somebody is!"