"The Removers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Donald)

Chapter Eleven

WHEN THEY came at you like that, from behind, they never really expect you to be ready for them; and if you act fast and decisively, at precisely the right time, you can generally take care of one of them as you turn. The other-they practically always hunt in pairs, since nobody'd be fool enough to entrust just one with a responsible job-will generally run then, and you can let him go or pick him off as you choose.

I knew they were there, all right. I've been getting along on my own five senses, without any watchdogs to help me, for quite a while. The trouble was, they were so clumsy it was obviously the freshman team. Fenn apparently hadn't thought me worthy of his own attentions, if Fenn had sent them. Maybe he'd just reported to Fredericks that a certain long, lecherous drink of water was making eyes at his daughter, and Fredericks himself had called some unskilled labor off the street to do the job.

I took the chance that the awkward characters behind me hadn't been sent to do any shooting. They'd just been sent to issue an invitation, I hoped; and I might learn something by going along. I might also get hell kicked out of me-I wasn't forgetting what had happened to Paul- but on the whole I figured the biggest risk was that one of them might be sap-happy. You see so many TV shows these days in which people get beat over the head without deleterious results that the rising generation of punks tends to overestimate the durability of the human skull.

There was a very unpleasant moment while they closed in. I guess they thought they were moving with silent efficiency. I continued walking beside Moira. We paused by the car. She was saying something, I don't remember what. Maybe I didn't even hear it. My scalp had tightened up hard enough to pull my ears out of register, waiting for the blow to fall.

Then one of them had a gun jammed into my kidneys, and the other had danced around to threaten me with a long switch-blade knife. It was so childish I wanted to cry for them. Some day they'd do it to a man who didn't want to be taken, and they'd never be the same again.

"Don't move, Buster!" the knifeman said in a menacing voice. "Keep him covered, Tony!"

Tony kept me covered, while Switchblade folded his surgical implement, put it away, and searched me so efficiently that he didn't even spot the little Solingen knife in my pants pocket. Well, he was young. He'd learn, if he lived long enough, which didn't seem likely, or even desirable.

"Look out!" the man behind me warned him, and Switchblade turned just in time to catch a thrown white purse squarely across the face. He rubbed his nose and took a step forward angrily. The kid was ready for him, with her fists up, ready to take him on, and any three friends he might care to name. She'd apparently been something of a tomboy in her day. It must have been something to see. The one behind me said quickly, "Watch it, Ricky. If you lay a hand on her, The Man will have your hide!"

Moira said breathlessly, "Get him, Sheik! Get him, big boy! Get them both! Tear their lousy throats out!"

Switchblade Ricky took a quick step backwards, watching the dog. It opened its mouth lazily, showing the biggest, whitest teeth in the world; and the punk took another step back and reached into his pocket for the knife. The dog finished yawning and looked up' at its mistress in a puzzled way: any fool could see there weren't any rabbits here.

Ricky laughed, but he'd been scared, he'd shown it, and he had to regain status. He stepped forward, bravely now, and kicked the dog hard. It cried out like a hurt child and slunk away to the end of the leash and cowered there with its long monkey tail between its legs, looking back over its shoulder with big, outraged, heartbroken eyes.

Moira gave a little cry, and knelt on the dusty pavement, and hugged the beast to her. "Oh, Sheik!" she moaned. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…

She looked up, kneeling there. "I'll kill you for that!" she breathed.

Tony, behind me, whose face I hadn't seen, said, "For Christ's sake, let's cut out the comedy… Miss Fredericks, get in your car and go home." He cleared his throat and said a word that probably hadn't crossed his lips in years, if ever; they don't seem to teach it to modern youth much. "Please."

She glanced at me, standing there a helpless prisoner with the threatening gun in my back. "What are you going to do to him?"

Tony said, "It's got nothing to do with you, Miss. Big… I mean, Mr. Fredericks just said to bring him in. I'm just following orders, Miss."

"Well, we'll see about your lousy orders-"

I said, "It's all right, kid. Go on home."

She turned on me. "Don't you tell me what to do! What's the matter with you, letting these two lousy delinquents…?" She stopped quickly, and looked at me sharply. She wasn't someone you had to draw blueprints for, labeled in red luminous ink. After a moment, she rose to her feet and said, "All right, but I'm coming along."

Switchblade Ricky said, "The hell you-"

"Save it," Tony said. "Miss Fredericks says she's coming, she's coming. How are you going to stop her, when she knows where we're going? Let The Man worry about it." He spoke to Moira. "Suit yourself, Miss Fredericks. But we can't give you a lift; it would be kind of crowded in one car with four of us and that big dog… Come on, you!" he said, nudging me with his firearm.

We drove into town in a big Chrysler of some kind, with Ricky at the wheel and Tony in the back seat beside me, taking his duty as guard very seriously. I don't think I could have disarmed him more than half a dozen times during the trip. For a punk his age, with a prisoner of my age and experience, that was a pretty good performance. He was an underfed-looking specimen with too-long hair and too-loud clothes. The only thing you could say for him was that he was an improvement on Ricky, which wasn't really a high recommendation for anybody.

Moira's little Mercedes followed us closely all the way. Ricky stopped in a parking lot, and Moira pulled up alongside. Getting out, under Tony's gun, I discovered we were in the lot where I had parked the truck some hours earlier. Well, that figured, vaguely. Moira said good-bye to Sheik, and we all proceeded into the same hotel, although by a different door.

A private elevator bore us smoothly upwards, there was no telling how far. The door opened and let us out into an ordinary hotel corridor, like any other hotel corridor, except that there were a couple of men lounging on a leather sofa in a nearby alcove. One of them rose and came up.

"He's in the office, waiting," this man said. "What kept you?"

"We've been staked out at the motel, where her car was. They didn't get back until ten minutes ago," Tony said.

The man jerked his head towards Moira. "Who said anything about bringing her?"

"She did."

"Just a minute." The man went away and came back. He spoke to me. "This way… You, too, Miss Fredericks." When the two youths who'd brought us started to follow, he gave them a look of surprise. "Who invited you? Stay here."

We walked down the corridor to an unmarked door. Our escort opened it and stepped back for Moira to enter. Then he shoved me in after her and closed the door behind us, remaining outside. There were two men awaiting us in the room. One I'd already seen elsewhere in this hotel. Martell was standing just to the left of the door.

One glance was enough to show that I'd made an error in judgment. He'd let, Fredericks send a couple of juveniles to bring me in, all right, but it wasn't because he didn't know who I was or why I was there. His voice was very soft, reaching only to me and maybe the girl beside me. It was a smooth, cultured voice with a slight accent: not the voice of a gangster named Fenn.

"Greetings, Eric," he murmured. "Any friend of Paul's is welcome."

Well, anyway, I knew now why Paul had tried too hard to reach me before he died. He'd wanted to warn me that, under duress, he'd talked. He'd told all about me- and Martell was just the man to do something about the information, or get Fredericks to do it for him.