with her and gave her the bag back. She looked frightened when he handed it to her and hurried away toward the street.
When she left, Parker went into the phone booth on the platform and called Fairfax’s apartment. Fairfax answered, and Parker recognized the voice. He said, “I just got rid of the woman with the overnight bag. I haven’t killed any of these jokers yet, but the next one I will. And if the money doesn’t show, I’ll come back for you.”
Fairfax said, “Just a moment.” The line hummed for a little, and then Fairfax came back on. “It’ll be a little late.”
“That’s all right,” said Parker.
There weren’t any more of them. At twenty to three, a train pulled in and two men got off it together, one carrying a suitcase. They came over to Parker, sitting on the bench, and put the suitcase down on the bench beside him. They started away again, without a word, but Parker said, “Wait.”
They turned around and he motioned at the suitcase. “Open it.”
They looked at each other and licked their lips. They didn’t know if it was bugged or not. Finally, one of them opened the two catches and lifted the top. There was nothing inside but money.
They sighed with relief, and Parker said, “Fine.4Close it again.” They did so, and walked away down the platform and through the exit and out to the street.
There were three ways away from here. There was the subway. There was the bus that came in at the end of the platform by the turnstiles, free transfer from and to the subway. There was the exit and the walk to the street. They would be ready for him whichever way he went.
He walked down by the Coke machine and set the suitcase down. He transferred the Luger from the lunch bucket to his side pants pocket and the target pistol from the briefcase to under his belt by the right hip pocket. He still had Mr. Carter’s pistol, and this he held in his left hand.
He picked up the suitcase again, walked to the outer end of the platform and down the steps past the sign saying TRANSIT EMPLOYEES ONLY. There was a wooden strip raised over the third rail.
Parker stepped carefully over this and over the track and toward the yards. It was dark out here and no one paid any attention to him.
He moved carefully across the yard, stepping high over each third rail, not wanting even to touch the wooden cover, and finally got past them all to a wide grass-grown gravel driveway. There was more light here, along the driveway, and he walked carefully, keeping to the darkest side. Glenwood Road was ahead, with cars parked along it and the row of houses stretching away down the cross streets. He couldn’t see if there was anyone in the cars.
The driveway went through an opening in the fence around the yard. Parker paused at the fence, watched, listened, then stepped through and turned left, away from Rockaway Parkway and the subway entrance. The suitcase was heavy in his right hand, the pistol comforting in his left, held close against his side.
He crossed the street, because three colored boys were walking in his direction on this side, wearing raincoats and porkpie hats and singing in falsetto. He went on down two blocks and turned right where the project began, and tossed Mr. Carter’s gun into a litter basket. Whoever fished it out in this neighborhood, it would be a long while before it got to the law.
He transferred the suitcase to his left hand, and walked along with his right hand close to the Luger in his pants pocket. A car squealed around the corner behind him, headed his way.
There was a bulldozed field to his right, where the row houses hadn’t been put in yet. He ducked across that, pulling the Luger out of his pocket, and somebody in the car fired too early. He dropped to the ground, and the car raced on, screaming around the far corner and away.
He got to his feet and strode deeper across the field. A high wooden wall separated the field from the backyards of row houses facing on the next street. He crouched down by the wall, the Luger in his hand, and waited.
The same car came around the block again, moving more slowly now, and stopped opposite him. He was in pitch blackness against the wall and couldn’t be seen. After a minute, the back door of the car opened and two men got out. They strolled across the field to where he had dropped, wandered around in a small circle, and strolled back.
They stood by the car, and after a minute two more cars came down the street and parked. Men got out of them, and they had a conference. Then two of the cars took off agaiif, going down to the corner, at Flatlands Avenue, both moving slowly. One turned right, and the other turned left.
The third car stayed where it was. Thr? men got out of it and strolled across the street to the project and disappeared in the darkness among the buildings. The driver stayed in the car, his cigarette glowing faintly from time to time, and watched the field.
Parker moved along the fence back to Glen wood Road, leaving the suitcase behind. The Luger was in his right hand, the target pistol in his left. He kept his hands close to his body as he moved. When he got to Glenwood Road, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started to whistle.
He walked along, still whistling, and turned at the corner and walked down the block toward the car. The driver watched him in the rearview mirror, but he wasn’t carrying a suitcase, and he was whistling.
The car window was open. When Parker reached it, he turned and set both gun barrels on the sill, pointing at the driver, and murmured, “One word.”
The driver froze, both hands clenched on the wheel.
Parker said, “Slide over and get out on this side.” He stepped back, and the driver obeyed. “Now walk out across the field there.”
The two of them walked back to where he’d left the suitcase. He reversed the Luger and swung it, and the driver went down.
He left the target pistol with him, picked up the suitcase, and hurried back to the car.
He slid in, started the engine, and roared away. As he was turning the corner, a man came running out from one of the project buildings half a block back.
