Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 6, April 16, 1938
- Автор: Трит Лоуренс, Вулрич Корнелл
- Год: 1938
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 6, April 16, 1938». Краткое содержание книги:
They would pass an expert’s eye — almost.
“Well, punk, what do you think of ’em?” Mawson rasped.
“Only fair,” Penny managed to say through his split lips.
“Whatcha mean?” Hugon snarled, thin gash of a mouth straight across his face. He looked at Mawson. “You trying to put something over, Mawson? The deal was that the four plates were to be perfect.”
Penny Pim laughed, his pale blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “If they’re perfect why should he be selling them? Why shouldn’t he keep them and turn out the counterfeit twenties himself? Ever think of that?”
“Say!” Hugon was instantly suspicious. He looked keenly at Penny. “From what Mawson says you’re a real expert on this kind of stuff. Suppose you look ’em over. I brought a magnifying glass along so’s to look at the plates myself. You take it.” He reached into his pocket and handed over a large reading glass.
Penny took the glass and studied the plates for long minutes. They were good, very good, but he found a dozen minute places where mistakes had been made. A part of a decorative wreath that had stems shorter than the original, thirteen and a half lines in one place instead of fourteen long ones. Little things, yes, but glaring errors when the T-men and G-men got on the trail.
“The best way to do, Hugon,” Penny said, “is to compare the plates with the real money here.” He motioned to the stack of currency Hugon had brought in the brief case.
“Go ahead,” Hugon snapped.
Penny reached for a stack of currency, riffled it through his fingers until he came to the twenty dollar bank notes. Suddenly he was very excited and his fingers trembled a bit. As he handled the worn bills a vague plan was taking shape behind his bulging forehead. He came to a bill, nodded for Hugon to look through the glass.
“Look at this corner decoration on the original, Hugon, and then at the plates. See how thick the lines are on the plate? Too thick. A Fed would spot them at once. Let me show you some more bad engraving. I can best point them out by using some of these fives and tens.” He reached for a stack of them.
Penny arranged a number of the bills, one on top of the other. As he did so he pointed out where errors occurred on the plates. “Even though these are fives and tens, Hugon, they’re engraved just like the twenties. Here is the same type of line and corner arrangement on this ten as you’ll find on the twenty. See where the plate is wrong? You’d have a Fed on your trail—”
“That’s enough, punks!”
Penny Pim and Hugon looked up in startled surprise. Across the room Mawson stood tense with his three men. All had guns ready.
“Why... why, what’s this?” Hugon shrilled, red face flaming.
“A stick-up,” Mawson spat out, cruel lips twisted. “We’re getting the jack and the plates! We were doing it anyway, Hugon. You came here by yourself. You and this punk, Pim, will take a ride together just before we leave for the Miami plane.” He stepped forward, face taut, snapped: “Scotty, get some jack and drive over after the tickets. You can get to the airport and hack in thirty minutes. Here’s the jack.”
Face white, Penny handed the stack of money he held in his hand to the raging Mawson. “T-T-There’s j-just six hundred d-dollars there, M-Mawson, he said haltingly, voice hollow with foreboding.
“And that’s just enough, punk,” Mawson snarled savagely. “His fist spatted to the side of Penny’s face as he grabbed the money. He handed it to Scotty, who nodded and raced from the room.
“Now,” Mawson said nastily, “we’ve got a nice little wait. Punk, you and Hugon get across the room and sit on the floor. Gunner—” to the little man — “take Hugon’s gat.” He looked at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty now. We’ll sit up the rest of the night. We gotta leave here about quarter of five in the morning. There’s too many people on these roads now to try a rub-out. We’ll wait. It’s still dark at five and we can get rid of these punks on the way to the airport.”
It was a long night. Penny Pim sat against the wall, his sore and protesting muscles screaming in agony whenever he moved. If there was only some way to be sure! He certainly was through playing detective. It wasn’t the life for a — for a man who had a girl like Naomi waiting! He wondered what she was thinking. Was she very angry? Or just hurt because he failed to show up for the movie date?
A battered alarm clock on the table ticked off the long seconds, each one bringing him closer to eternity. There was no way out now. The chance he had taken was a big one, the—
“Boss, I’m getting the heebies. Let’s take these punks out and get it over with.” Gunner Wry jerked to his feet, eyes dancing crazily.
“What time is it?” Mawson asked with a yawn.
“After four,” Scotty said sleepily. “I’m damn tired of holding this gat on these two punks. My wrist feels like it’s breaking. I’m with the Gunner, Mawson. Let’s find a nice big ditch for these guys and then ride around a bit before the plane leaves.”
“Well, okay,” Mawson agreed. “You got the tickets? Each of us take one, see? We won’t speak to each other on the plane.” He looked across at Penny and Hugon. “All right, punks, hop up! We’ll take a little ride and then—”
Dazed, body and head aching, Penny got slowly to his feet. If there was only some way he could gain time. His plan had to work, simply had to! If he had just another hour...
Then Penny Pim threw back his head and laughed. It was a cackling, creaking sort of a laugh, but it expressed a sardonic mirth that was grating, almost hysterical.
“What the hell?” Mawson yelped, pasty face angrily red.
“The... the money!” Penny shrilled. “You... you think... you’re getting away with it! Fools! You utter damned fools!”
“For a plugged copper I’d chop this guy in two!” Gunner Wry raised his Tommy-gun, thin face ascowl.
“Wait!” Mawson ordered. He swerved on Penny. “What you mean?”
“You fool!” Penny croaked. “Don’t you realize all that money is hot? Sure, it’s hot! Stolen money, ransom money! The number of every bill is on record in every bank and police department in America! They’ll catch you before you even get to Miami!”
“Damn you, Hugon!” Mawson swerved, jerked up his gun.
A wild scream came from Penny’s bruised lips. The grating keening of his shriek made Mawson jerk. The next moment Penny had the gunman’s arm in both hands. He twisted, pulled. Somewhere he had read that ju jitsu was done by pulling and twisting. By an incredible piece of luck he did everything just right. Mawson parabolaed over Penny’s hunched-up back, crashed to the floor. Just before his body hit Penny jerked once more and a bone cracked.
Hugon, face red and eyes flashing, jumped for Gunner Wry who was trying to raise his machine gun in the cramped room. The red-headed man got the gun. Gunner, body and muscles set for a terrific jerk, braced himself. Instead, Hugon pushed the gun and the butt of it got Gunner Wry in the throat. He fell back, gurgling a strangled scream.
Scotty and Mike Duffy converged on Penny for a quick kill. Hugon turned, panting hard, at Penny’s wild scream of alarm. He jumped forward, made for Duffy. The taxi driver pulled trigger and the bullet caught Hugon in the center of the forehead. Duffy yelled, turned the gun on Penny Pim.
Penny saw the man’s finger tighten on the trigger, saw the flesh whiten. He threw himself forward the instant the shot sounded. Something terribly hot flashed through his shoulder. Dimly, he heard a fusillade of shots from far away, the crashing of a door. Then unconsciousness again swooped down and enveloped him...