apologetically. “You'll understand, I'm sure.”
“Yeah. That the gun you measured Frenchy with that night in the kitchen?”
Ronald Frederick picked up his drink carefully in his left hand and sipped at it, his face impersonal.
“Not very smart of you keepin' it around here, Freddie. Suppose Joe Dameron had picked you up any time in the last few days, like he'd halfway planned. Could you've explained it? They got the slugs outta Frenchy, you know.”
The silence from behind the desk lengthened. Johnny threw back his head and drained his glass, and at his first movement the revolver in the chair opposite lifted itself three inches and then lowered again as he settled back. “You didn't know the stuff was in the hotel already, did you, Freddie?” Ronald Frederick delicately removed the handkerchief from his breast pocket, flipped it open, and Spread it on his knee. He wiped his fingers deliberately by rubbing them briskly over the handkerchief, one hand at a time, the free hand in turn hovering over the gun butt. “It's funny, in a way, Freddie. Dumas hires you to do a job for him here and sets you up in business. All of a sudden to save your own neck you have to knock him off. The man with the stuff arrives; he knew Frenchy, and he's waitin' for Frenchy to contact him. Gonna be quite a wait. The man doesn't know you. You don't know him, but I know both of you.”
The voice from the opposite chair was quiet and unemotional. “You seem to have acquired a good deal of dangerous information.”
Johnny grinned at him. “You know I haven't got that kind of brains, Freddie. This is right from the horse's mouth. If Joe'd had even a halfwit to put you near the kitchen that night, your tail woulda been sizzlin' in the bacon grease long ago. How much more time you think you're gonna get?”
“I trust just time enough.” The manager lifted the gun in his lap, balanced it appraisingly a moment, and gently returned it again. “As you said a moment ago, let's eliminate the-ah-horsing around. I'm sure you didn't come here without a proposition!”
“Sure. It's simple. I take you upstairs, and we go up against the guy with the stuff. How you handle him is your problem, but you and I split the dollar bills right down the middle.”
The manager nodded. “It sounds reasonable from your point of view, of course. Unfortunately the answer is 'no.'”
“You got a choice?”
“I do have a choice. I think that even you will agree that this revolver gives me a choice. I'm not about to give away fifty percent of three months' effort merely because you suggest it.”
“You can't find him without me, Freddie. You need me.”
“Only up to a point.” Ronald Frederick smiled. “You see, Johnny, there's a very important point at which your premise ceases to be valid. Frenchy Dumas did not hire me. I am answerable only to-” He tried to cover the apparent slip by gulping at his drink. “You know, this sort of-ah- violent activity differs radically from my past operations, which is why Lieutenant Dameron and his associates have been unable to 'make' me.”
He cleared his throat gently; the mild eyes were unclouded again. “That night in the kitchen was a disaster, of course. Frenchy's initial carelessness in permitting himself to be followed into the hotel resulted in a kangaroo court and a body. When we took it to the kitchen to dispose of it temporarily, we stumbled over the old man. Frenchy lost his head-if you don't mind a grisly little joke, almost literally.”
Ronald Frederick smiled again. “Man proposes, the saying goes; through one oversight in an otherwise straightforward master-plan, upon Frenchy's death I was placed in the unfortunate position of being unable to identify the courier or myself to him. In that respect the good lieutenant was entirely right in his deductions.” He sipped at his drink. “So there I was, until now. Your appearance is providential; you've saved me a good deal of embarrassment.”
“So let's hear the deal, Freddie.”
The slender features hardened. “There is no deal. I've considered you rather carefully in your various aspects since you first came to my attention, and I'll tell you truthfully it was with some regret that I decided I couldn't afford the luxury of your dynamic support. I could buy you, but intuition tells me you wouldn't stay bought. When we go upstairs, I'll-”
“I'm in for fifty percent, or we don't go anywhere,” Johnny cut across the mild voice.
The little man's smile was unruffled. “Don't you suppose I've taken the measure of the man a little better than that, Johnny? Certainly you could sit here and defy me, receive a bullet in your head, and leave me to get away as best I could without the material for which I've expended so much time and trouble. But do I really need to say why I'm sure that won't be necessary? Isn't it much more in keeping with your character that you'll cheerfully accompany me upstairs and look forward confidently to turning the tables upon me at some stage of the proceedings?”
“You must be quite a poker player, Freddie.”
“I've played the game. Well?”
“Seems to me if I got to take you, I might as well do it right here. Unless there's a financial point to my takin' you on upstairs?”
“If you were to take me on successfully, a point in the neighborhood of a quarter of a million, handled in the proper channels?”
“Dollars?”
“Dollars. My share-” He smiled. “-yours if you can make it yours-will approximate that.”
“I'd like to see a quarter million on the hoof at that.”
“You'd be disappointed. It's microfilm, probably in a capsule no larger than your little finger.”
“Microfilm? What the hell-”
“I suppose you thought it would be at least the crown jewels? Jewels are out of date in this commercial modern world, Johnny. These films are a complete reproduction of some very recent developments in oil. Evaluations, leases, maps, tentative agreements, drilling sites, proposals. And they didn't come from the papers of a private company.” The manager shifted in his chair. “We're wasting time. Have you decided?”
“Let's go upstairs.”
“Fine. One word of advice-”
“Yeah?”
“The time will come upstairs when you sense the opportunity or the necessity of rushing me. I'm aware that due to your tremendous animal vitality you may expect that the impact of a bullet will not stop your charge. Don't count upon it. This revolver carries a lead bullet without a jacket. The rifling in the chamber is a bit worn. The combination results in a slug that wobbles even at a short distance, and I feel I should point out to you that such a slug in the back of your head would make it extremely difficult to identify you from your pictures.”
“You mean it'd take my face off on the way out.”
“Precisely.”
“I'll draw cards to the proposition that you can't hit me in the head, Freddie. And if you hit me anywhere eke it's not gonna do you much good, because I'll anyway reach you, and when I do you're odds on to pray for a better world.” He stood up slowly and easily, put down his glass gently, and walked over to the desk. He leaned forward deliberately with his hands resting knuckles down on the surface and stared down at the little man who had backed off in his chair a precautionary few feet at Johnny's approach. “Come on, you little bastard. Let's see how much nerve you've really got.”
“Fine,” Ronald Frederick said again as he got to his feet. “We won't use the elevator; I'd be a little too accessible to you. How many flights on the stairs?”
“Six.” Johnny walked to the door, slipped off the chain latch, and unbolted it. He glanced out into the deserted corridor, and without looking behind him started for the door down the hall marked EXIT. In back of him he could hear the whisper of the little man's feet on the carpeted floor.
“Careful!” Ronald Frederick snapped as Johnny put his hand on the fire door which opened outward onto the landing. “Move slowly and hold that door open.” Johnny glanced over his shoulder; over the shortened distance the revolver was openly trained upon his back, and for the first time the manager's face was strained and ugly.
Johnny shrugged. Ronald Frederick followed him through the door, body tensely withheld to maintain the maximum distance between them, and Johnny turned to the stairs. On the first turn he could see from a corner of his eye that the revolver had been thrust beneath the manager's jacket so that only the butt emerged; it was unlikely that a casual glance would notice it.
