Black Mask (Vol. 21, No. 8 — November, 1938)
- Автор: Баллард Уиллис Тодхантер, Cave Hugh B.
- Год: 1938
- Язык: английский
- Год: Pro-Distributors Publishing
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Black Mask (Vol. 21, No. 8 — November, 1938)». Краткое содержание книги:
Morgan wheeled and barked an order to the chalk-eyed man who raced away down the hall, stopped suddenly to look back at the prisoners. “What about them?”
Farnero shrugged. “Better bring them down and throw them on the boat. We can’t take a chance on their talking. This play’s been gummed up too much already.”
Morgan nodded. “Yeah, that’s an idea.” He broke off as Rita came down the hall.
She paused at sight of Farnero, then ran forward to throw herself into his arms. “Arthur!”
He caught her closely. There was a gasping sound at Lennox’ side and he turned to see Frank Hobbs’ tight face.
“Rita!” The name escaped from Hobbs’ tight lips.
The girl’s contempt for him was very real. “Stupid fool!” she spat toward him.
Farnero laughed harshly. “You are dumb, Hobbs.”
The manacles at Hobbs’ wrists rattled. “You double-crossing—” He leaped forward.
Farnero pushed the girl to one side, then a gun appeared in his hand. “Get back!” His voice was dangerously quiet.
Hobbs stopped. Lennox watched the boy’s bitter expression change to hate.
Morgan said, “Cut the comedy. You’re too quick on the trigger, Art. Half the trouble we’ve had today is because you blasted that screwy uncle of yours.”
“Shut up!” Farnero swore at him.
Morgan said heavily, “Don’t get too big for your skin, punk. I’m still running things. Besides, what’s the difference? These muggs aren’t going anyplace where they can ever talk.”
The chalk-eyed man came back down the hall and Morgan said, “All set, Pete?”
Pete noded. “Yeah. The truck’s already rolling. It’ll take us about four hours to get them guns down to Wilmington.”
Morgan shrugged. “Well, it can’t be helped. You take a couple of the boys, get a car and ride these guys down to the boat. Lock them up in one of the cabins. We’ll decide what to do with them when we get there.”
Pete stirred restlessly. He sat on one of the cushioned lockers facing his prisoners, the heavy gun lying on his knees. Outside the winches rattled as the dirty tramp shipped the last of its cargo.
Nancy shivered in the wet, damp air. Lennox stirred and Pete yawned and looked at his watch. “Morgan oughta be showing up any minute.” He inspected the captives almost impersonally.
Lennox said, “I don’t think you’re going to like it in Mexico, Pete.”
“Why?”
“The climate isn’t healthy and General Rodriguez might find it expedient to get rid of some of you, even if he wins. If he doesn’t, there’s always the adobe wall in the sunshine. The sun is always down there, Pete, even when the firing squad is working.”
The man grunted, “Morgan will take care of me.”
Lennox said, “If he can take care of himself. A lot of Americans have gone below the Line and monkeyed into things but most of them didn’t last long.”
“Morgan will — long enough.”
Lennox’ voice was curious. “Just where does Butcher come into the play?”
The chalk-eyed one hesitated. “I guess it ain’t no harm telling you, seeing that you aren’t going anywhere. Butcher gets the gambling concessions along the Border, Juarez, Mexicali, Tia Juana, Caliente.”
Lennox stared, then he started to laugh. The man snapped, “What’s so funny about that?”
Lennox told him, “Nothing. I was just thinking. Almost every muss they’ve had down there has been backed by some business interest or other, but this is the first time I ever heard of a revolution backed by gamblers. Tell me, how many guns has Butcher got anyway?”
“Plenty. He’s been buying up mobster guns all over the United States ever since Prohibition ended. Not only that, but he picked up all the others he could get his hands on. You think it’s a gag, huh? Well, let me tell you, wise guy, it’s no gag. Morgan’s not only got the guns, but he’s got the boys to handle them. We aren’t turning those Tommys over to a lot of dumb spics. He’s got some of the best smoke artists and muscle-men in the business. And don’t think those guns aren’t worth plenty, what with the guys in Washington shutting down on arms shipments and all.”
Lennox nodded. “I get that, but what I don’t get is why Morgan needed Frank so bad. There are other flyers and he’s shipping down by boat now.”
Pete laughed as Hobbs stirred. “Frank was a very important guy. He was a friend of some big rancher. The guy just died, but Frank knew all the peons on the ranch. The plan was for him to land the arms there. If anyone else had tried it, the peons would have talked.”
Lennox looked inquiringly at Hobbs, who nodded. Bill said, “You really didn’t expect it to work, Frank? You really didn’t expect the government to stand by and let a bunch of gangsters take over Mexico?”
Hobbs shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy, but Rita’s father is well liked in most of Mexico. There’ll be plenty of natives in his army. All they lacked was guns.”
The chalk-eyed man snickered. “And did that dame play you for a sucker, mister, getting you to agree to fly those guns across. And all the time she was playing around with Art Farnero.”
Hobbs half rose. “You’re crazy!”
Pete said, flatly, “Sit down.” He had the big gun in his hand. He seemed to take delight in torturing Hobbs. “Crazy, am I? That shows how much you know. Why, she and Farnero slipped across to Yuma and got married three days ago.”
Hobbs’ face was dead white. “I don’t believe it.”
Pete was jeering at him. “Of course you don’t. You’re a sap — that’s what they counted on. Mike Farnero threatened last night, that unless Morgan and Rodriquez left you alone, he’d tell you about her. Art Farnero and I were on the balcony, and heard. Art came bustin’ into the room and his uncle called him a dirty, double-crossing — and told him he’d cut him out of his will. Art snatched up the gun and let Mike have it.”
Hobbs wet his lips. “You’re lying! Art wasn’t in L.A. last night. He was in San Diego.”
Pete laughed loudly. “He flew up, you fool, flew up to see that black-haired slut.”
With a wordless cry Hobbs leaped toward the man. Pete’s gun spoke once, the slug tearing through the flyer’s stomach. But it failed to stop Hobbs completely. He was on top of the chalk-eyed man, his manacled hands rising and falling, battering against the top of Pete’s head.
“Call her a slut!” His words had an insane sound, as if he did not know what he was saying. The gun had slipped from Pete’s fingers to the floor of the cabin.
Lennox dived for it, straightened. He reached over to pull Frank back, but there was no need. The hands rose half way, dropped slowly and the flyer pitched forward onto the cushion beside the unconscious gunman.
Nancy jumped toward him. “Frank! Frank!”
Hobbs did not answer and Lennox guessed that he would never answer again. Bill turned and raced up the companionway to the deck. At the entrance he met the captain and two of the crew.
The captain was short, heavy, in pea-jacket and cap. “What the hell?”
Lennox slammed the gun against the side of the captain’s head, let the body slump to the deck, turned, menacing the crew members. They stared at him. The gun in his hand held them rigid. He backed them toward the forecastle.
Two more came running forward, stopped when they saw his gun. None of them had arms. He looked them in the forecastle, barred the door, then mounted to the bridge.
The spotlight caught his attention. He turned it on, pointed it directly upward toward the starlit sky. With luck, some of the harbor police would see the light, come out to investigate. The sound of a boat made him swing and run toward the landing stage. He had almost reached it when Morgan’s head came over the rail.
“Turn off that damned light!” The gang leader’s voice was hoarse. “What the hell are you trying to do, Cap, get all the cops in the world on our necks?” He swung to the deck. Other figures followed him — Rodriguez, Farnero and Rita.