Ник Картер - The Code

“I’d like to be one. I’ve heard a lot about her.”

The woman decided to smile. Her teeth weren’t the best. Her yellow hair had been dyed long ago, and not well, and her painted eyebrows looked like batwings. She swung the door wider so I could squeeze past, then slid a bolt.

“Are you expecting a raid?”

“These days you never know. It’s not easy earning an honest living anymore.”

I was sure she knew nothing at all about earning an honest living, or even anyone who did. She wore white boots, skin-tight pants, and a pullover blouse with zebra stripes that were drawn taut over her copious breasts. Big nipples studded the blouse like rocks.

“You’re a nice-sized boy,” she said, running a quick and experienced eye over me. “I’ll bet you’re really sweet.”

I had been called any number of things, but never sweet. I forced a grin, playing the role dictated by the circumstances. This woman certainly wasn’t one who would be interested in doling out information to a stranger.

“Here’s Rondo now,” she said, laying a hand on my arm. Her fingers were the size of sausages.

A man had come out of a door at the foot of the stairway that ran to the house’s second floor. The sleeves of his shirt were cut off and exposed his broad upper arms. Metal studs gleamed in his wide belt. His pants fit as tightly as the woman’s, showing the bulges in his powerful legs. His face was moon-shaped, fat pinching in the corners of his small eyes.

“Tell us what you’d like Therese to do for you, sweetheart,” he suggested, baring teeth that were in even worse shape than the woman’s.

I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. I was in no ordinary bordello. There seemed to be no one in the house but the three of us and the girl I hadn’t seen.

“I’d like to see her first.”

“She’s a lovely chick. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Let him go up, Rondo,” the woman said. “It’s a reasonable request.”

Rondo shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling he’s a ringer. He didn’t give you any references, did he?”

“Moose,” I said. “Moose gave me Therese’s number.”

“That’s a good name.” He stuck out his hand. “Put fifty right here. It’s like a cover charge. A fifty-dollar job is the cheapest trick this chick pulls.”

I crossed his palm and he climbed the creaking stairs to confer with Therese, then waved to me from the landing. “She says come on up.”

The first thing I saw when I opened the bedroom door was the array of whips and belts laid out on a wooden table. The second thing was the girl. She really was lovely.

“What’s your name, darling?” she said in a husky voice.

A thin slip was her only piece of clothing. She was leaning against a stack of pillows on an unmade bed. The furniture in the dim room was old and dilapidated. The dresser held only a hairbrush and a cracked washbasin and the faded curtains smelled of dust. Therese was the only item of value there. She had black hair, an olive complexion, and high cheekbones that drew the skin of her lean face taut. Her body was young and lithe and she looked as though she’d be all that Moose had said in his little black book.

But he hadn’t mentioned the whips.

“Ned,” I told her. “My name is Ned.”

“And what’s your game?”

My eyes swung back to the table. I knew now the kind of house I was in, and the games that were played here were very rough indeed. It figured, I thought. Given Moose’s leanings, it figured he’d be carrying the number of a place like this. Only the girl didn’t figure. She was too lovely to be here.

“You’re going to be surprised when I tell you my; game,” I said.

“I like surprises.” There was perversity in her smile. She was the kind of woman Faust had soul his soul for.

“I want to know where Moose is.”

“I’m surprised, all right. And a little disappointed.”

“I’ve got to find him, Therese.”

“You didn’t mention this to Rondo. If you had, he wouldn’t have let you see me.”

“That’s the reason I didn’t mention it.”

Therese put a crudely-rolled cigarette in her mouth and struck a match on the wooden floor. The slip skidded down her shoulder, baring a small, round breast. She gave me the tantalizing smile again. “Moose left town.”

The odor that took over the room told me her cigarette wasn’t the kind she’d have offered the chief of police. I walked closer to the bed. “If you wanted to find Moose, where would you go?”

“To Hell. That’s where he ought to be.” She laughed, showing her teeth. They were clean and even and white. Everything about her was perfect, everything but what she was.

“Did he have friends in San Diego that I could look up?”

“I look at people and right away, that first time, I know if I’m going to like them or not. I like you.” She leaned her head against my leg. Her voice was soft. “If it’s important, I’ll help you. Why are you trying to find Moose?”

“He killed some people.”

She raised her head. “You aren’t a policeman. I can tell policemen by the way they walk.” She stroked my leg. “You don’t feel like a policeman, either.”

“He killed a friend of mine.”

The door to the bedroom burst open. Rondo and the yellow-haired woman came in.

Therese straightened up, her lovely mouth twisting. “You should have waited, Rondo!” she yelled “I could have gotten him to tell me more.”

“We heard enough.” He picked up the biggest whip on the table. “Mister, if Moose ever found out one of us set you on his tail, we’d all be sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

“There won’t be anything to tell.” He snapped the whip as he moved toward me. “I saw that fat wallet of yours when you shelled out the fifty. You’re carrying a nice hunk of cash.”

“Get him, Rondo!” the yellow-haired woman said.

I realized that they were perfectly willing to kill me for the cash I carried, or even just as a favor to Moose.

Rondo drew back the whip and as he did, I picked up the straight-backed chair near the bed. The whip sang through the air and snaked around the leg of the chair as I raised it to protect my face. Rondo cursed and tried to pull the whip back.

I took two steps toward him and smashed the chair down over his head. It splintered and he sank to his knees. I belted him in the face with my fist and blood spurted.

With a squeal, Therese bounded back on the bed, reached under the pillow, and hauled out a .25 caliber Bauer automatic. They were ready for anything, this crowd.

Therese didn’t tell me to stop where I was or to put up my hands. She pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the wall. She was too excited to shoot straight.

I had rapidly revised my opinion of the girl. She was lovely, but I wouldn’t have wanted to run into her in a dark alley.

“Shoot him, Therese,” urged Yellow Hair. She was a great cheerleader. I backhanded her and dived for the girl.

I hit the bed on my belly and it collapsed under my plunging weight. Therese spilled off one side with her feet flailing. She was wearing nothing underneath the slip. The force of my dive carried me across the bed like a hockey puck skidding on ice and I landed on top of her. The fall was cushioned for me, but the girl made a sound like a sick bird.

The vest-pocket gun danced from her hand, careening along the floor. Rondo wiped his bloody nose, got to his feet, and staggered for it.

I reached for the Luger, but Yellow Hair leaped on my back. She must have weighed 160. I spun around and threw her over my shoulder and she crashed upon the bed.

Rondo was trying to pick up the little automatic. He seemed to be having trouble seeing it. I clamped one hand on the back of his neck and jerked him forward so that his head butted the wall. He spilled down on his face and lay still.