Sam said, “Somebody’d get hurt. I want to die of cancer, like everybody else.” He raised his hands very slowly, not wanting to set anything off, and put them on the back of the front seat. “Mike, I thought I explained it to you. The wild old days are gone forever. There’s been too much shooting already, and that goes for both sides. Senators are skittish people, sensitive people. After they hear the morning news I wouldn’t want to bet which way they jump.”
“There won’t be any shooting,” Shayne said. “And if there is, it’ll all go one way. The boys understand that.”
“No, they don’t,” Sam insisted. “I’m sorry to say they’re not very smart. They work for Boots Gregory, and you know Boots-if there’s one chance in a hundred to foul a thing up, he’ll do it. If they come back without me and without any guns, why he’s likely to fly into a fury and slaughter them all. As much as I like Boots.”
Shayne scraped his jaw with the front sight of the revolver. “I don’t think you want to be rescued.”
“I wouldn’t mind being rescued, but not like this. There’s been too little communication between me and Boots. That’s what made all the trouble. We’ve got to call a halt before something bad happens. Sit down together with a drink and a cigar and figure out what’s to our mutual advantage.”
“Sam, did you kill Senator Maslow?”
Sam blinked slowly. “Ask me again after they vote.”
“One more point before I say goodnight. Listen to this carefully because I want to say it only once. Somebody called Judge Kendrick and threatened his life unless he votes against the bill. To make it more convincing, he blew up a perfectly good Lincoln and shot a deputy sheriff in the meaty part of the leg.”
“That’s what I was saying! Shooting deputy sheriffs is the wrong way to go about it. This close to the vote, it’s insane.”
“His voice sounded familiar,” Shayne said, “but I still can’t place him. Here’s the complication. Kendrick said you’d already threatened him. You promised to kill him if he votes against the bill, and here somebody else is promising to kill him if he votes for it. A problem. The guy’s best move now will be to knock you out of the way before the vote so Kendrick will have only one threat outstanding. Do you follow that?”
Sam’s fingernails had whitened. He said quietly, “I never threatened Judge Kendrick or anybody else.”
“I know that, Sam. It wasn’t Kendrick’s idea. I suggested it, to stir things up. You should have explained last night. I don’t want to be shot in the back while I walk away, so I’m going to gather up a few guns before I go.”
The man beside him twitched, and Shayne fired just wide of his ear. The bullet drilled a hole in the window.
“Don’t let that remark of Sam’s about masculinity bother you,” Shayne said. “You’re bringing Sam in, and that’s the main thing. You don’t have to tell Boots you’ve been gelded.”
He reached out, took the man’s wrist between a firm thumb and forefinger, and tugged it gently until it came out of his jacket. Then Shayne pulled the gun. He drew the other two in the same way. Starting the motor, he drove back to the motel.
The youth he had slugged was on his hands and knees between two parked cars. Shayne got out and heaved him into the back seat.
“He’s still a little groggy. Somebody else had better drive.”
After the men rearranged themselves inside the car and drove away, Shayne hunted up a trash container and dumped the four weapons. He was hot enough without them.
CHAPTER 13
The window of Sam Rapp’s room on the second floor of the motel was still lighted. Shayne went quietly up the stairs and along the gallery. After checking the lock he tapped on the door with the lockpick he carried on his key ring. He stepped into the light so he could be seen from the window. The blind was drawn aside. It fell back in place and Shayne began working on the lock.
Professional thieves seldom bother with motels, and motels seldom bother with locks that are difficult to open. Two twists, a slight reverse pressure and another twist, and Shayne opened the door.
Lib Patrick, at the phone, swung around. She was wearing a sketchy nightgown, stopping above her knees. Her hair was in rollers for the night.
She touched the rollers self-consciously. She started as the switchboard acknowledged her signal.
“Oh. Well, so sorry to bother you. Could you tell me the time?”
She looked at her watch after hanging up. “One minute fast. Mike Shayne, damn you, why do you have to be like this?”
Shayne closed the door. “What do you have to drink?”
“Just whiskey, but you don’t want any. I’ll be glad to tell you the time. It’s damn late.”
Both twin beds had been used. She said defensively, “If you want Sam, he’ll be back in a minute, which is why I don’t want to settle down with a drink. He just-”
“He just stepped out to be kidnapped,” Shayne said. “I was here when it happened. That wasn’t much of a slap he gave you. I can’t see the marks.”
He opened the closet door, picked a dress off a hanger and tossed it to her. “Put this on, Lib. We’re not staying.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Baby, if you think you’re going to kidnap
He snapped his fingers. “Things are about to blow. I’m in a position to make some real trouble for everybody, so if you want to live to enjoy the money, you’ll have to be nice to me. I want to know what happened to Maslow. The rest of it is none of my business.”
She was hesitating. “If I made so much noise that somebody called the cops-”
“I’d have to tell them Sam had been kidnapped, after slapping your face and calling you a bitch. You’ve done a great job, but it won’t stand up under a grand jury investigation, where everybody has to tell the truth or go to jail for perjury. You’ve got to win me over. It’s your only play.”
“Is it?” she said, confused. “I’m not so sure. Why can’t you relax, like other people? Don’t you ever need any sleep? Everything was going so well before you showed up.”
“You knew it was a gamble. But don’t fold up yet. Get dressed. I’m expecting the highway cops, and that would be bad for both of us.”
She gave him a direct look. “I think you’re bluffing, but do I want to take the chance?”
Picking up the dress, she started toward the bathroom.
“Out here where I can see you, Lib.”
“O.k., o.k. I might jump out the window or take sleeping pills. I’ll try not to blush. I don’t suppose you’d like to turn off the light?”
“No.”
She pulled off her nightgown. After wriggling into the dress she stepped into high-heeled shoes, picked up her bag and a half-empty bottle of bourbon, and was ready.
“Bring your car keys,” he told her.
Outside, she continued to work on her rollers. Shayne moved carefully until he was sure there were no more cars than there had been when he arrived. She showed him a sleek Italian convertible.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far.”
He headed toward town, feeling conspicuous in the showy car, with the elegant girl. She finished with the rollers and began combing her white hair.
After half a mile Shayne pulled into a gas station and body shop, closed for the night, and parked between a wrecker and a battered French sedan, a casualty of the battle of the highways.
Lib offered him the bourbon. Shayne drank and handed it back.
“I haven’t been kidnapped for years,” she said. “I haven’t drunk out of a bottle since I’ve been with Sam. Mike, I know you’re about to ask me some questions I don’t want to answer. I’ve got to convince myself I’m doing the right thing. Tell me in so many words what you’ll do if I stand on my rights.”
“I still have to talk to Tim Rourke, and then we’ll set up a surrender scene, which ought to get good TV
