He waved at the bartender. When the drinks came he attacked his thirstily, spilling part of it. The girl didn’t like this, but Shayne no longer doubted that she was following orders.
“Honey, we’ve got to get out of here,” he told her earnestly. “I’m beginning to feel like a mummy, and that’s not what good cognac is supposed to do for you. That singer’s going to come back any minute. There has to be
He clutched at his chest suddenly and staggered, his face going blank. She clapped her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. Shayne was being watched closely by the bartender and the headwaiter. He laughed.
“Relax, everybody. I’m in excellent health. Only clowning. I just mean,” he said to the girl, “it’s your duty, and if you have any stublic pirit at all-”
He looked doubtful. “What did I say? That didn’t sound right.”
She gave him a grudging smile, showing excellent teeth. “I think you said if I had any public pirit.”
“I’m not drunk,” Shayne assured her. “I’m not exactly stone-cold sober either, but I want you to know that I’m hitting on all cylinders. What kind of nice first name do you have?”
“Cheryl,” she murmured.
“Cheryl! Did you hear that, bartender? Cheryl happens to be one of my favorite girl’s names. What do you say, Cheryl, are we getting out of here?”
She studied him, smiling faintly. “I suppose if it’s my duty. I do know a place with a very gaudy nude floor show.”
“Well, now,” Shayne said. “I’m not one of those people who slobber every time they see a female nude, but I’ve got nothing against them. What are we killing time here for?” He finished his drink. She wasn’t drinking fast enough to suit him so he took her glass out of her hands and finished it for her. The headwaiter was hovering nearby, in case he needed help making the door. Shayne brushed him out of his way and headed for the street in a stiff careful walk. The girl followed.
Outside in the darkness, he wavered from the curb in to the storefronts and back.
“This town!” he said in disgust. “With all the taxes we pay they can’t even get the sidewalks to stay level.”
Cheryl, laughing, hugged his arm. He dragged her toward his Ford, continuing to weave and wobble while he examined both sides of the dark street. He spotted a motionless figure in a doorway across from his car. There would be one other somewhere. Shayne didn’t think this would be considered more than a two-man job.
He wrapped his arms around the girl and attempted to kiss her. But Cheryl didn’t want to lose status by being kissed on a public sidewalk, and while they were pushing and tugging at each other Shayne lurched against his car and located the second man, crouched on the floor behind the front seat, his face hidden.
“Baby, you’re gorgeous,” Shayne said with enthusiasm. “You’re the nicest thing that’s happened to me in months.”
“Mike, behave yourself.”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m behaving? Are you implying I’m not being respectful?”
“Of course not.” She gave his waist a squeeze. “You keep in good shape, don’t you?”
“I try to,” Shayne said modestly. “But I don’t get enough sleep. Too damn much else to do. You know what I like about you? The way you carry yourself. It’s the one essential thing I insist on in a dame. Instead of going someplace hot and stuffy, what we could do, let’s get in the back seat and stretch out.”
She jerked his hand away from the door handle. “No!”
“If you don’t want to, OK,” Shayne said, aggrieved, “but I didn’t like the way you said that.”
“I need a couple of drinks first. You’re way ahead of me. I only just met you! Afterwards, if all goes well-” Reaching up with both hands, she pulled his head down, gave him a quick businesslike kiss and whispered, “But not now, darling.”
Having disposed of that problem, she said briskly, “Get in this side. I’ll drive.”
Shayne said dangerously, reeling away, “Are you trying to tell me I’m in no condition to drive? I’m the best driver you’ll ever see, drunk
Reeling back, he opened the front door for her and put her in. On his way to the driver’s side, he misjudged the curb and fell down. He was up again at once, grinning. “They build some tricky sidewalks up here, don’t they?” He slid behind the wheel and toppled over on her. “You and me are going to have a wonderful time.” Seizing her, he kissed her hard. He hadn’t liked the businesslike kiss she had doled out to him, and he made this a real one, keeping his eyes open for any signs of life from the back seat. After a moment he felt her respond. She gasped when he let her go.
“Mike-Jesus-”
“What did I tell you?” Shayne said. “I knew you were a swinger.”
He swayed back to his own side of the seat, snapped on the ignition and started the motor, his head still turned toward her. Her eyes wavered.
The man behind them didn’t think he had to be careful. Cheryl seized Shayne’s arm and cried, pointing out through the windshield, “Mike,
He delayed a fraction of a second until his assailant had committed himself to his swing, then thrust the girl away and came up fast, catching the man’s forearm. He jerked it forward and brought it down hard on the steering wheel. He had the wrist in one hand, the elbow in the other, and gave it an extra twist at the moment of impact. He heard the bone break.
The blackjack fell limply between Shayne and the girl. She screamed, sounding more surprised than frightened. Shayne rammed the automatic transmission into drive and stamped on the gas.
The second man across the street had left the doorway of the apartment house where he had been waiting. Shayne swung the wheel and headed straight at him, his headlights on full. As Shayne had expected, it was the plump man with the long hair, who had come into the Bijou with Cheryl. The headlights blinded him. He halted, crouching, then darted to one side. Grinning wolfishly, his foot all the way down, Shayne went up on the sidewalk after him. The man whirled. His face had gone dead white. He shouted something, both hands up to ward off the Ford, and leaped into the doorway.
Shayne hit the brakes. The Ford skidded to a stop with its front bumper sealing the doorway. The man scrabbled frantically at the locked door of the apartment lobby. Shayne threw the transmission into neutral, snatched the blackjack off the floor and was out of the car in one swift fluid motion. He vaulted onto the hood, the blackjack ready. The man’s body contracted as he looked over his shoulder at the powerfully-built redhead above him.
Cheryl was trying to move the injured thug so she could reach the wheel. Shayne said with quiet authority, “Better not, Cheryl. You only had one chance. Nothing you can do about it now.”
The man with the broken arm had begun to feel sorry for himself as the pain reached him. Cheryl went on pulling at him. “Damn you, Morrie, get out of the way.”
Shayne said more sharply, “Don’t you know when something’s gone sour? Cut it out or we’ll have a few broken skulls.” He motioned to the frightened man in the doorway. “Climb over. Don’t hurry. We have lots of time.”
The man made an effort to recover his composure. Ordinarily his plump cheeks probably gave him a self- satisfied look. He smoothed his hair, gave it a final pat on each side, and stepped up on the bumper.
“You seem to be under the impression-”
Shayne slapped the blackjack smartly against his palm. “I’m not the one who made the mistake.”
“Curt,” the girl called urgently.
But the plump man hadn’t recovered from the effects of being pinned against the door by Shayne’s Ford. His head was trembling up and down, as though he consented in advance to anything Shayne wanted of him. He slithered across the hood. Shayne patted him under the arms and on the pockets. This was the executive; he wasn’t carrying a weapon.
There was movement in the front seat. The man the girl had called Morrie was trying to get his gun out with his left hand. The shoulder holster was one of those with a safety clasp, strapped on at an angle so the gun would resist a pull from anyone but its rightful owner. Shayne reached through the window and slapped him on the temple
