Four men came bundling out of the car and ran across the pavement into the house.
She shouted to Dillon: “Come back... quick... they're here!”
Dillon slipped into the room again, and shut the door. He turned the key. For a moment he stood hesitating, then went over to the cupboard. “Give me a hand,” he said. “Get this across the door.”
They jerked and pulled the cupboard into position. Heavy footsteps came thudding down the passage and someone knocked on the door.
Dillon raised his hand to Myra. They stood looking at the cupboard, waiting.
Myra suddenly spun round and ran to the telephone. She hastily dialled Dillon made as if to stop her, then shrugged.
The desk sergeant at the other end of the line listened to her incoherent whispering.
“You're nuts,” he said at last. “Things don't happen like that in this city. Take a pill... that's what you want.” As he hung up, she heard him say, “Ernie's goin' for 'em now.”
Myra dropped the receiver into its cradle. She turned round to Dillon, her eyes wide with fear. “It's a frame-up,” she said jerkily. “The cops won't come.”
A sneer went over Dillon's face. “Yeah?” he said. “I don't want the bulls to pull me outta this.”
Again someone knocked on the door.
Dillon said softly, “Out the back way.”
Quietly they left the room and went through the kitchen. The back door led down a long flight of steps to a dark alley. Dillon went first, holding the Thompson close to his side. Myra followed him. They went down the stairs slowly, watching the door at the bottom. Myra expected it to fly open any moment, and she felt her body cringing.
They got to the bottom without anything happening. Dillon snapped off the light before opening the door. He put his hand on her arm. “Get down flat,” he said.
Myra crouched on the floor. Dillon knelt, reaching for the door-handle. His hand was steady as he quietly turned it. The door came towards him very slowly. As the aperture widened he sank lower on the floor. Outside was black. It was just as if a heavy curtain hung in front of him. There was not a sound.
At last he got the door wide open. Faintly, he could hear them smashing the door down upstairs. He touched Myra's arm, and they began to crawl forward. Without warning a gun exploded above him. He heard the bullet smack against the wall, and the faint sound of the plaster as it ran down.
Raising the Thompson, he suddenly opened fire, sweeping the gun round in a half-circle. Above the roar of the gun he heard a strangled cry. He stopped firing and crawled on. The damp pavement touched his outstretched hand. Faintly, now that he was outside, the reflected lights of the city glowed over the high wall. The alley was still dark, but he could see a little. Drawing his breath sharply between his teeth, he stood up slowly, keeping the Thompson ready.
Nothing happened. Myra stood up, her heart pounding and came close to him. They began to walk slowly down the alley. Almost immediately, Dillon stumbled over a body. He didn't take his eyes off the exit to the alley. He carefully stepped over, raising his feet and feeling before he put his weight on them again. He kept on. The open street ahead of him, the deep shadows, and the knowledge that somewhere death was waiting for him, made his nerves tingle. He told himself if Roxy wasn't there he was sunk.
Myra said in little gasps, “Watch out... for God's sake watch out!”
Dillon said nothing. He went on, getting slower as the end of the alley crept towards him. When he was a few yards from the street, he went down on his hands and knees.
Myra's nerve cracked. She leant against the wall, letting him go on ahead. She was ready to spring after him if nothing happened, but she could go no farther until she knew.
Quite suddenly two men sprang into the alley Dillon could see them outlined against a street light. He started firing before his brain telegraphed to his hand. One of the men tossed up his hands and fell forward, but the other ducked out of sight.
Swearing softly, Dillon dived forward into the street. Excitement sent caution overboard. A gun exploded in his face, and he felt a little hiss of air as the bullet went past. He swept the gun round in an arc, firing wildly. The hideous roar echoed through the deserted street. The man who had fired at him was caught in the blast of lead. He crumpled up, lying with his head in the gutter.
Dillon saw a big closed car shoot over from the other side of the street As he jerked the gun up, Roxy screamed his name, waving his hand frantically. He nailed the car just where Dillon stood. Myra sprang out of the darkness and scrambled in. Dillon got in as Roxy released the clutch with a bang. The car shot down the road. Behind them, they heard a burst of gun-fire A bullet coming through the rear window smashed the windscreen.
Myra crouched on the floor, her head between her hands.
Dillon snapped, “Get into a side road... quick!”
Roxy shoved the pedal down to the boards, holding the car to the road. As a turning loomed up, he threw out the clutch, slammed on his brakes and swung the wheel over. The big car went into a skid, lurched up against the kerb and righted itself as Roxy released the brake.
“We've done it!” he said excitedly, as the car pounded down the road. “We've beaten 'em to it!”
“All right, all right,” Dillon said.
They had been driving furiously for a short time. Roxy glanced at him and eased the pressure on the pedal.
“Stop her,” Dillon snarled. “Where in hell do you think you're rushin' to?”
Roxy drew to the side of the road. We gotta get outta town,” he said nervously.
“Wait a minute... wait a minute.” Dillon shifted the Thompson off his knees on to the floorboards. “Now what
Roxy started to splutter, saw the hard gleam in Dillon's eyes and stopped. Then he took hold of himself and said, “Vessi ratted. You shook his nerve rubbin' Hurst. Somehow he didn't see you bein' boss long, so he runs to Ernie. McGowan didn't like the set-up, but he came along and blew it to me. I went after Vessi an' got him to talk. He said Ernie wasn't wasting time. He tipped the cops that you had knocked Hurst off, and then sent his boys after you.”
Dillon said, “Vessi?” There was a lot of hate in his voice.
“I took care of Vessi.” Roxy sounded satisfied. “He won't worry about his dinner any more.”
Myra said from the back, “Get goin'... that smashed wind-screen'll make the bulls curious.”
“Shut your trap!” Dillon said, without looking round; then to Roxy, “You know where Ernie hangs out?”
“Sure.... You ain't...?” Roxy twisted his body round in the car. His eyes suddenly widened with surprise.
“No yellow heel's runnin' me out of this burg,” Dillon said between his teeth. “I guess we'll go an' call on that guy.”
“Don't... no... don't be crazy.” Myra struggled up from the floor. Her hands resting on the back of the seat, she again said. “No... no....”
Dillon shifted round and hit her with his open hand across her face, sending her back into the darkness with a crash. “I'll settle with you in a tittle while,” he said. “Get goin',” to Roxy.
Roxy hesitated, then he started the engine. Swinging the car round, he headed back to the East side.
Dillon picked up the Thompson and examined it carefully, then he laid it down. “I guess this gun's too big for the job,” he said thoughtfully.
Roxy said uneasily, “You'll never get in with that.”
Dillon pulled his .45 from its holster and made sure that it was ready for use. He shoved it away again, and relaxed, watching the dark road. At the back, Myra sobbed quietly, now completely terrified.
