'Then when do we have a few minutes together?' he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. 'Now you're here: oh, come on, Meg... I want you...'
'No! I have to go! I shouldn't have come here. I have to go!'
The sudden hardness in her eyes warned him it would be useless to attempt to persuade her to stay.
'You can kiss me, can't you?' he said angrily.
She let him kiss her, but when he became ardent, she pushed him roughly away.
'I said no!'
His face congested, his eyes sullen with frustrated anger, Anson went to the front door, opened it and looked out on to the deserted corridor.
'I'll call you,' he said as she moved past him.
He listened to her heels click on the stairs as she went down the street.
A dusty 1958 Buick was parked at the end of the street in which Anson's apartment block stood.
Sailor Hogan sat at the wheel, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his big hands resting on his knees. His hard eyes moved continuously to his driving mirror to check the street behind him and then through the windshield to check the street ahead of him.
When he saw Meg come out of Anson's apartment block, he started the car engine. As Meg reached the car, he leaned across the bench seat and swung open the door. Meg slid in, slammed the door as Hogan shot the car away from the kerb.
'Well? What did he say?' Hogan demanded.
'At least four or five months,' Meg told him and flinched away from the explosion she knew would follow.
'Months?' Hogan's voice shot up. 'You crazy? You mean weeks, don't you?'
'He said months. He says they'll be suspicious, if he does it before.'
'I don't give a damn what he says!' Hogan snarled. 'It's got to happen before then! I can't wait that long! I must have the money by the end of the month!'
'If you think you can do better than me ... then you talk to him,' said Meg sullenly.
Hogan gave her a quick vicious glance.
'Okay, baby,' he said. 'We'll see about this.'
He shoved his foot down on the gas pedal and the car surged forward.
Neither of them spoke until they reached the Barlowe house. Meg got out of the car and opened the double gates.
Hogan drove the car into the garage. He joined Meg as she unlocked the front door. They walked side by side into the dark house and into the sitting-room.
When Meg had lowered the blinds, she turned on the lights.
Hogan stood over the fire, his big hands thrust into his pockets while he watched Meg get a bottle of whisky and glasses from the cupboard.
Hogan was above middle- height with the wide muscular shoulders of a boxer. He wore his wavy, dark hair cut short.
He was handsome in a brutish way. During his professional fighting career his nose had been flattened. There were scar tissues along the ridge of his eyebrows, but this added to rather than detracted from his animal glamour.
'Listen, doll,' he said, 'you've got to do better than this.' He took the glass half full of whisky Meg handed to him. 'I've got to have this money by the end of the month! You've got to talk this guy into doing his stuff by then or you and me will fall out.'
Meg sat on the settee. She was pale and her eyes were anxious.
'It's no use, Jerry,' she said. 'You don't know him the way I do. He scares me.' She shivered. 'I can't handle him. I wish I hadn't listened to you! I wish...'
'Aw, shut up!' Hogan snarled. 'You do what I tell you or I'll give you something to remember me by!' Meg looked at him.
'That policeman who was shot at the Caltex hold-up ... Anson did it.'
Hogan stiffened.
'Anson? You're lying, you rotten little...'
'He did it!' Meg exclaimed, jumping to her feet and backing away as Hogan, his hands now out of hfs pockets began to move threateningly towards her. 'He killed him with Phil's gun!'
Hogan paused, then he rubbed his jaw with a sweating hand.
'So that's how he raised the money!' he said startled. 'Joe and me wondered how he had got it. Well! what do you know ... a cop killer!'
'It didn't mean a thing to him!' Meg exclaimed. 'He's dangerous, Jerry. I'm warning you! Those eyes of his! He scares me. I wish you hadn't picked on him.'
'I picked on the right guy,' Hogan said. He finished the whisky and set down the glass. 'It was your idea to get Barlowe insured, wasn't it? How else could we have worked it without having some punk in the insurance racket to fix it? Well, Anson's fixed it, hasn't he. He had to: I saw to that. With the money owing to Sam Bernstein and me to put pressure on him, he was a natural.' He sat down beside her. 'Get me another drink. Phew! A cop killer!' As Meg came back with another glass half full of neat whisky, he asked, 'Has he still got the gun?'
'No. He brought it back the next day. I've been trying to get you for days but you're never in.'
Hogan made an impatient movement.
'If I'd known he was that tough, I'd been more careful how I handled him... a cop killer!' He drank some of the whisky and blew out his cheeks. 'Well, what are we going to do? I must have the money by the end of the month. This is a chance in a lifetime. Joe told me this morning he couldn't wait. There's another punk waiting to put up the money, but Joe wants me to be his partner. It's cheap at the price ... twenty-five grand and Joe won't ask questions.'
'It's no good, Jerry. You'll have to wait.'
Hogan stared into the fire for a long moment while Meg watched him anxiously.
'What's wrong with me knocking Phil off?' he asked suddenly. 'He's insured now ... that was the tricky part. I could fix him and then we'd have the dough without having to wait for this junk Anson to make up his mind.'
'No!' Megs voice went shrill. 'I won't let you! You must keep clear of this, Jerry! You must have a cast iron alibi, same as me! That's the whole trick in my plan to keep us both in the clear and let Anson take the blame if anything goes wrong. You must keep out of this!'
'Well, we've got to do something!' Hogan snarled, suddenly angry again. 'Stir yourself. I can't wait five months!'
'I'll think of something,' Meg said desperately.
Hogan got to his feet.
'You'd better or I'll look elsewhere for the dough.' He caught hold of her by the arms and shook her. 'Listen, I'm getting sick of this! This was your great idea! Okay! ... make it work or you and me will part company! We've parted company before. You've got nothing another woman can't give me! Hear me! If we part this time ... we part for good*!'
'I'll fix it!' Meg said desperately. 'Honestly, Jerry ... I'll fix it!'
'You'd better!' He started towards the door, paused and glared at her. 'And fix it fast!'
'You're not leaving, Jerry?' She looked pleadingly at him. 'I haven't seen you for so long. He won't be back tonight...'
Hogan's battered face twisted into a contemptuous sneer.
'You imagine you've got something to keep me here?' he asked. 'I've things to do. You fix Anson!'
She came to him, but he shoved her roughly away.
'Keep your paws off me! You use your head instead of your body for a change! I want the dough by the end of the month ... or you and me are through for good!'
He left the house, slamming the front door.
Meg stood motionless. It was not until the sound of his car had died away that she moved stiffly to the settee. She sat down. A convulsive sob shook her, but she quickly controlled herself. She picked up the bottle of
