The real cool killers

over suddenly and started laughing. 'Pigeons ain't got no sense, man.'

The rest of them just looked at him.

Finally Inky asked, 'What you want me to do?'

Sheik straightened up quickly and stopped laughing. 'You guard the captive and see that he don't escape.'

'Oh!' Inky said. After a moment he asked, 'What I'm gonna tell the cops when they ask me what I'm doin'?'

'Hell, you tell the cops Caleb is teaching you how to train pigeons.'

Inky bent over and started rubbing his shins again. Without looking up he said, 'You reckon the cops gonna fall for that, Sheik? You reckon they gonna be crazy enough to believe anybody's gonna be flying pigeons with all this going on all around here?'

'Hell, these is white cops,' Sheik said contemptuously. 'They believe spooks are crazy anyway. You and Sonny just act kind of simpleminded. They gonna to swallow it like it's chocolate ice cream. They ain't going to do nothing but kick you in the ass and laugh like hell about how crazy spooks are. They gonna go home and tell their old ladies and everybody they see about two simpleminded spooks up on the roof teaching pigeons how to fly at night all during the biggest dragnet they ever had in Harlem. You see if they don't.'

Inky kept on rubbing his shin. 'It ain't that I doubt you, Sheik, but s'posin' they don't believe it.'

'God damn it, go ahead and do what I told you and don't stand there arguing with me,' Sheik said, hit by another squall of fury. 'I'd take me one look at you and this nigger here and I'd believe it myself, and I ain't even no gray cop.'

Inky turned reluctantly and started up the stairs toward the roof. Sonny gave another sidelong look at Sheik's open knife and started to follow.

'Wait a minute, simple, don't forget the pole,' Sheik said. 'I've told you not to try chunking rocks at those pigeons. You might kill one and then you'd have to eat it.' He doubled over laughing at his joke.

Sonny picked up the pole with a sober face and climbed slowly after Inky.

'Come on,' Sheik said to Choo-Choo, 'open the window and let's get back inside.'

Before turning his back and bending to open the window, Choo-Choo said, 'Listen, Sheik, I didn't mean nothing by that.'

'Forget it,' Sheik said.

Sissie and Sugartit were sitting silently side by side on the bed, looking frightened and dejected. Sugartit had stopped crying but her eyes were red and her cheeks stained.

'Jesus Christ, you'd think this is a funeral,' Sheik said.

No one replied. Choo-Choo fidgeted from one foot to the other.

'I want you chicks to wipe those sad looks off your faces,' Sheik said. 'We got to look like we're balling and ain't got a thing to worry about when the cops get here.'

'You go ahead and ball by yourself,' Sissie said.

Sheik lunged forward and slapped her over on her side. She got up without a word and walked to the window. 'If you go out that window I'll throw you down on the street,' Sheik threatened.

She stood looking out the window with her back turned and didn't answer.

Sugartit sat quietly on the edge of the bed and trembled.

'Hell,' Sheik said disgustedly and flopped lengthwise behind Sugartit on the bed.

She got up and went to stand in the window beside Sissie.

'Come on, Choo-Choo, to hell with those bitches,' Sheik said. 'Let's decide what to do with the captive.'

'Now you're getting down to the gritty,' Choo-Choo said enthusiastically, straddling a chair. 'You got any plans?'

'Sure. Give me a butt.'

Choo-Choo fished two Camels from a squashed package in his sweat shirt roll and lit them, passing one to Sheik.

'This square weed on top of gage makes you crazy,' he said.

'Man, my head already feels like it's going to pop open, it's so full of ideas,' Sheik said. 'If I had me a real mob like Dutch Schultz's I could take over Harlem with the ideas I got. All I need is just the mob.'

'Hell, you and me could do it alone,' Choo-Choo said.

'We'd need some arms and stuff, some real factory-made heaters and a couple of machine guns and maybe some pineapples.'

'If we croaked Grave Digger and the Monster we'd have two real cool heaters to start off with,' Choo-Choo suggested.

'We ain't going to mess with those studs until after we're organized,' Sheik said. 'Then maybe we can import some talent to make the hit. But we'd need some dough.'

'Hell, we can hold the prisoner for ransom,' Choo-Choo said.

'Who'd ransom that nigger,' Sheik said. 'I bet even his own mamma wouldn't pay to get him back.' 'He can ransom hisself,' Choo-Choo said. 'He got a shine parlor, ain't he? Shine parlors make good dough. Maybe he's got a chariot too.' 'Hell, I knew all along he was valuable,' Sheik said. 'That's why I had us snatch him.' 'We can take over his shine parlor,' Choo-Choo said. 'I got some other plans too,' Sheik said. 'Maybe we can sell him to the Stars of David for some zip guns. They got lots of zip guns and they're scared to use them.' 'We could do that or we could swap him to the Puerto Rican Bandits for Burrhead. We promised Burrhead we'd pay his ransom and they been saying if we don't hurry up and get 'im they're gonna cut his throat.' 'Let 'em cut the black mother-raper's throat,' Sheik said. 'That chicken-hearted bastard ain't no good to us.' 'I tell you what, Sheik,' Choo-Choo said exuberantly. 'We could put him in a sack like them ancient cats like the Dutchman and them used to do and throw him into the Harlem river. I've always wanted to put some bastard into a sack.' 'You know how to put a mother- raper into a sack?' Sheik asked. 'Sure, you — ' 'Shut up, I'm gonna to tell you how. You knock the mother-raper unconscious first; that's to keep him from jumping about. Then you put a noose with a slip-knot 'round his neck. Then you double him up into a Z and tie the other end of the wire around his knees. Then when you put him in the gunny sack you got to be sure it's big enough to give him some space to move around in. When the motherraper wakes up and tries to straighten out he chokes hisself to death. Ain't nobody killed 'im. The mother-raper has just committed suicide.' Sheik rolled with laughter. 'You got to tie his hands behind his back first,' ChooChoo said. Sheik stopped laughing and his face became livid with fury. 'Who don't know that, fool!' he shouted. ''Course you got to tie his hands behind his back. You trying to tell me I don't know how to put a mother-raper into a sack. I'll put you into a sack.' 'I know you know how, Sheik,' Choo-Choo said hastily. 'I just didn't want you to forget nothing when we put the captive in a sack.' 'I ain't going to forget nothing,' Sheik said. 'When we gonna put him in a sack?' Choo-Choo asked. 'I know where to find a sack.' 'Okay, we'll put him in a sack just soon as the police finish here; then we take him down and leave him in the basement,' Sheik said.

7

Grave Digger flashed his badge at the two harness bulls guarding the door and pushed inside the Dew Drop Inn. The joint was jammed with colored people who'd seen the big white man die, but nobody seemed to be worrying about it. The jukebox was giving out with a stomp version of 'Big-Legged 'Woman.' Saxophones were pleading; the horns were teasing; the bass was patting; the drums were chatting; the piano was catting, laying and playing the jive, and a husky female voice was shouting:

'… you can feel my thigh

But don't you feel up high.'

Happy-tail women were bouncing out of their dresses on the high bar stools.

Grave Digger trod on the sawdust sprinkled over the bloodstains that wouldn't wash off and parked on the stool at the end of the bar.

Big Smiley was serving drinks with his left arm in a sling.

The white manager, the sleeves of his tan silk shirt rolled up, was helping.