The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories
- Автор: Adams Cleve F., Babcock Dwight V.
- Год: 2010
- Язык: английский
- Год: A Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
- ISBN: 978-0-307-45543-7
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories». Краткое содержание книги:
Black Mask was the apotheosis of noir. It was the magazine where the first hardboiled detective story, which was written by Carroll John Daly appeared. It was the slum in which such American literary titans like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler got their start, and it was the home of stories with titles like “Murder Is Bad Luck,” “Ten Carets of Lead,” and “Drop Dead Twice.” Collected here is best of the best, the hardest of the hardboiled, and the darkest of the dark of America’s finest crime fiction. This masterpiece collection represents a high watermark of America’s underbelly. Crime writing gets no better than this.
He moved towards the door of the office. Jo Gar followed him. Carlysle said: “You going my way?”
The Island detective shook his head. His eyes were almost closed.
“I think it will be better for both of us,” he said softly, “if I go alone.”
Von Loffler sat across the table from Delgado and Jo Gar. He was a German who had lived many years in the Islands. His body was lean and he was not young. He looked at Delgado’s white hair and said thickly:
“It is very bad. The diamonds are insured, of course. But in England. I sympathize with Señor Delgado, and I agree with him. You have done much good work in the Islands, Señor Gar. These bandits and killers must be caught.”
Jo Gar said nothing. Delgado spoke in a firm, low voice.
“Señor Gar is more familiar with conditions here than other detectives might be. Lieutenant Arragon was his friend. I think we have much — the three of us — to work for, together. But Señor Gar — it is his business.”
Von Loffler nodded. His face was grim. His blue eyes narrowed on Delgado’s.
“Your son, Liam,” he said. “Señor Gar’s friend. And my diamonds.” His eyes flickered to Jo’s. “You will work for us, Señor?” he asked.
Jo Gar smiled with his thin, colorless lips pressed together. He parted them and said:
“Yes — but I feel it will be difficult. This was not an ordinary crime. It may mean that I must leave the Islands.”
Delgado said firmly: “I want my son’s killers — no matter where you must go.”
Von Loffler nodded his head slowly. “It is right,” he said. “You have the description of the stones — it is the best I can do.”
The Island detective nodded. He said very quietly:
“Just the three of us must know what I am doing. Even the American, Carlysle — he must not know. I shall need funds. It may prove expensive.”
Delgado shrugged. “That is simple,” he said.
Jo Gar got to his feet. “When Carlysle took his men to the Calle Padrone address he found only a deserted shack. There was not a clue — nothing. But had I gone—”
He spread his stubby-fingered hands. Von Loffler said:
“It will be dangerous, Señor. But that is your business.”
The Island detective looked expressionlessly at the room’s ceiling.
“It is so,” he agreed. “It is my business.”
Carlysle was smiling when Jo Gar moved along the cell block of the old police station and reached his side. He spoke with enthusiasm.
“I sent for you — we’ve got one of them. It’s just a matter of a few hours now, and we’ll have the others.”
Jo Gar made a clicking sound. He looked at the American head of police with widened eyes.
“That is very good,” he said slowly. “But how—”
Carlysle cut in on his calm voice. “I didn’t want you to waste time running around the city.”
Jo lowered his lids slightly. The change in the manner of Carlysle was very evident. He was almost patronizing now. He had one of the bandits — he would shortly have the others. He had done it without Jo Gar’s aid.
The Island detective was silent. Carlysle said with a narrow-lipped smile:
“Lieutenant Mallagin picked up the Chinese driver of the car Arragon commandeered, about an hour ago. Just after eleven. He was staggering along the Pasig road — on the other bank. He’d been badly beaten and was soaked. They had tried to drown him, but he regained consciousness and let his body float with the current. Then he crawled ashore. He recognized one of the bandits — a Filipino. We’ve traced the crime to Cantine, the half-breed that we turned loose from Billibid three months ago. He ran the hold-up.”
Jo Gar said, in a slightly puzzled tone: “But you said you had one of them—”
Carlysle was excited; he made gestures with his hands.
“We’ll have the one he recognized,” he stated. “I meant we had found the Chinese driver.”
Jo Gar said slowly: “That is — good.”
Carlysle said: “I’ve got all the men out for the pick-up, and I didn’t want you going off at an angle.”
The Island detective half closed his eyes and spoke softly:
“And what became of the machine of this Chinese?” he asked.
Carlysle said: “He doesn’t know. A bullet hit Arragon as they were gaining on the other car. He collapsed. The Chinese used brakes — but the other car had stopped, and he was rushed. They knocked him unconscious — the road was deserted; it was around a curve.”
Jo Gar said slowly: “And you think Cantine was the leader — the half-breed?”
Carlysle made a grunting sound. “Sure of it,” he snapped. “The Filipino that this Chinese identified was one that served a term at Billibid — he was one of Cantine’s men. We’ll have them all pretty quick.”
The Island detective spoke in his toneless voice:
“That will be — very good.”
The American head of police chuckled. “We won’t have to worry about the boats that are sailing tomorrow,” he said. “Didn’t care much for that job, anyway. Passengers are easily insulted. It would have been difficult.”
Jo Gar lighted a brown-paper cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke above his head.
“I did not think this Cantine — possessed so much courage,” he said slowly.
Carlysle grunted. “He learned something — and took a chance,” he said. “He wasn’t so smooth. There was too much killing.”
The Island detective said: “May I talk — with the Chinese?”
Carlysle frowned a little. But he nodded his head.
“I’ll go along with you,” he replied.
Jo Gar smiled with his eyes. “I shall be honored,” he said simply.
The Island detective rose from the small wicker chair and smiled at Carlysle. He narrowed his eyes on the brown, fat face of the Chinese.
“He is of good breed,” he said slowly. “He speaks without becoming muddled, and clearly. You have been lucky.”
Carlysle smiled expansively. The head of the Manila police was in a genial humor.
“Not lucky, but rather careful, Gar,” he said.
Jo shrugged. “He staggered right into your hands,” he pointed out. “I meant that it was fortunate he was not killed — shot or drowned.”
Carlysle said nothing. He turned towards the door leading from the room in which Jo Gar had been questioning the Chinese. It opened as he faced it; Lieutenant Mallagin entered. He was breathing heavily, obviously excited.
He spoke in broken English. “I have captured — one of Cantine’s men. He is hurt — very much. He fell from a sampan deck — but will not talk. The doctor — he say he may die quick—”
Carlysle frowned. Jo Gar was watching Mallagin with expressionless eyes. He glanced at the Chinese — the man’s mouth was half opened; he was staring at the chunky-bodied Filipino.
The chief of police frowned. Mallagin said in a husky tone:
“I think it would be wise — to take this Chinese — to him — while he lives. He then might talk—”
Carlysle nodded. “Yes,” he said decisively. We’ll get him right there. Where is — this man?”
Mallagin said: “In the shop of Santoni, who deals in fruit — not far from the Spanish bridge. He is very bad.”
Carlysle nodded. He looked towards the Chinese. He said sharply:
“You are going with us — you will identify a man who is hurt.”
The fear that was in the eyes of the Chinese seemed to grow. He mumbled something that Jo Gar failed to understand; his hands were moving about strangely. The Island detective said: