Seigel came in as if he were walking on egg-shells. He was no fool. From what he had heard he knew Maurer had handled June Arnot's killing himself, and he was appalled at the possible consequences. He knew one slip now might upset the whole of the carefully built-up kingdom. He had clawed his way up the ladder during the past ten years until he was now in the highest position he could ever hope to attain, with plenty of money, plenty of women, and every conceivable luxury within reach. The thought of losing what he had gained filled him with a sick, vicious rage.
'Louis, this girl's got to be hit,' Maurer said, coming immediately to the point. 'McCann will let you know where she is. You've got to move fast. We have half an hour before Conrad moves in.'
Seigel stared at him.
'It'll have to be a crude job, Mr. Maurer,' he said. 'We shan't have time to case the joint, and that's bad.'
'I don't care how the job's done so long as it is done. Who's going to do it?'
Seigel thought for a moment.
'Moe and Pete,' he said finally.
'Pete – who?' Maurer asked sharply.
'Pete Weiner. He's okay. He hasn't hit before, but he's got to start some time.'
'Is he the guy with the birth-mark?' Maurer asked frowning.
'That's him. He can talk good. His old man was a minister. We want a guy who can get into her apartment without her making a noise. Pete can do that. If he slips up, Moe can take over, but he won't slip up. He's keen.'
'I don't like using a guy with a birth-mark,' Maurer said. 'He's too easily spotted.'
'I've got no one else who could get into the apartment. I don't know the setup. If I had a little more time so I could case the joint I wouldn't use him. As soon as he's done the job, I'll get him out of town. There won't be any kick back.'
'There'd better not be,' Maurer said grimly.
A tap sounded on the door and Dutch Feiner, who looked after the club when Seigel was otherwise occupied, came in. He was a big, red-faced man with blond hair and hard ice-grey eyes.
'What is it?' Maurer said impatiently.
'There's a dame just come in, Mr. Maurer. I thought you should know. Seems to me she's Conrad's wife. I may be wrong. She was in the other night, and I thought her face seemed familiar. I'm pretty sure now that's who she is.'
'You mean Paul Conrad's wife?' Seigel said, staring at him.
'That's right,' Feiner said, pleased with the sensation he had caused.
'She's not with Conrad, is she?'
'She's on her own.'
'Check that, Louis!' Maurer said sharply, and got to his feet.
Seigel pushed past Feiner and hurried down the passage that led to the restaurant. He came back after a minute or so, his face excited.
'It's Conrad's wife all right. She's at the bar on her own.'
Maurer waved Feiner away. When he had gone, he looked over at Gollowitz.
'What's the idea? He wouldn't send her here to spy, would he?'
Gollowitz shook his head.
'I can't believe that.'
'Go and talk to her, Louis,' Maurer said. 'Handle her carefully. Don't let her know you know who she is. See if she'll tell you. Try and find out what she's doing here.'
Seigel nodded and went out.
'Do you know anything about her?' Maurer asked as Gollowitz sat down again.
'Not much. She's a looker. I think at one time before she married, she did a bit of singing: small stuff, small fees: you know the kind of thing. They got married about three years ago.'
'What the hell can she be doing here?' Maurer said, pulling at his under-lip.
Gollowitz shrugged. He wasn't interested in Janey Conrad. In a few hours, he was thinking, Maurer would be on the yacht. He would then be in charge of Maurer's kingdom, something he had thought about as a remote possibility for the past three years, and now it was within his grasp. It would be he now who would be the power in the organization. No longer would he have to persuade or even beg to have his advice followed. He would decide something should be done, and it would be done immediately.
His mind shifted from the taking over of Maurer's power to something else that Gollowitz had looked at with envious eyes and frustrated desire ever since he had first met her: Maurer's wife, Dolores.
Just to think of that tall, red-haired, green-eyed woman made Gollowitz short of breath. To his mind there had never been any woman more desirable and intriguing than Maurer's wife, and yet Maurer seemed scarcely to be aware she existed. How could he have had an affair with that Arnot woman when Dolores was his? Gollowitz wondered. How could he?
'What's on your mind, Abe?' Maurer asked sharply, his eyes on Gollowitz's face.
