The Erection Set

knowing.”

“Knock off the games, Chet.”

“Being able to prove too -much is something else again.”

“Ah, hell,” I grunted. “You mean the old dodge about tangible facts that would come out if I got knocked off?”

“Something like that.”

“Then why send Bridey and Markham after me?” Blackie and the other one came back with coffee and set the cups down on the table. When they sat down Chet stirred in his sugar and milk, then pushed the cup away from him. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a hit. Maybe they were going to just take you and put the squeeze on. That pair knows all the tricks and when they want somebody to talk that somebody talks.”

“Those jokers got the wrong somebody this time.”

“And next time?”

“Get to the point, Chet. This shit is beginning to bore me.”

“We’re involved in this too, Dog. If you talk you throw all of us out into the open and let me tell you something, kid, we mean more to us than you do.”

“That why you brought your bit hit man along?”

“We have plenty of hit men, Dog. You don’t know all of them.”

“But they all smell alike.”

“I’m real sorry now that I kept the others off your back,” he said viciously. His voice was barely a whisper, but he meant every word of it.

My teeth were showing when I said, “You can always change your mind, pal. Like starting right now. I’ll take all three of you out and be gone before the noise dies down.”

Chet’s eyes narrowed and the skin pulled tight around his mouth. He knew I wasn’t fooling either and it showed in his face. “You wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Want to try?” I sat back and they could see the nozzle of the .45 staring at them from the crook of my crossed arms.

All three of them sat absolutely still. “Never mind,” Chet said.

I nodded slowly, watching them. “Then you call the plays, Chet. Just remember... I don’t play a defensive game. It’s only the guys on the offense who win. Any more tries come my way and I won’t worry about where they come from. Everybody is going to be a target, so if you’re on the ball you cool it, and get the word out to the others to cool it, otherwise it’s just all one big package as far as I’m concerned.”

I got up and stuck on my hat. The gun was back in the holster, but my hand was right where I could get to it faster than they could theirs. Chet picked up his coffee, his eyes still slitted above his cheekbones.

“Were they right, Dog? You protecting yourself with something that could blow the whole schmear?”

“You’ll never know, kid,” I said. I waited until a couple started to pass me and stepped in front of them, heading for the door, letting them cover me in case anybody decided to start blasting. When I was outside I looked back and they were still sitting there, Blackie and the other one listening to Chet. Blackie’s hands were clenched into tight fists and he slammed one against the table. I could almost hear what he was saying.

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past four.

Sharon finished putting her makeup on, snapped the compact shut and let it drop back into her pocketbook. “You sure get a girl up at ungodly hours. You know we’re almost in Linton and it’s only ten o’clock?”

“Kids are supposed to get up early,” I said.

Her eyebrows raised and she gave me another of those oddball expressions I couldn’t quite decipher. “Kid?” You wouldn’t know one if it hit you.”

“How old are you, sugar?”

“Old enough to know better than play gal Friday for you.”

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Mr. Kelly, I wouldn’t miss being with you for the world. You know what the rumormongers are putting out in our sewing circle?”

I turned my head and looked at her. “Tell me.”

“There’s something deep and dark about you. Dick Lagen has hinted at the worst sort of things and Mona Merriman seems to think you were the consort of a certain young lady who’s father was the deputy dictator of one of those new countries ... who was shot to death shortly thereafter.”

“Ah, fame,” I said.

“Are those things true?” She was staring straight ahead through the windshield, her hands clasped in her lap.

“If they are, you’ll read about it in their papers soon enough.”

“You don’t seem very concerned.”

“I quit worrying a long time ago, doll”

For a mile or so she didn’t speak, then she squirmed in her seat and I could feel her eyes on me. “What’s the matter with Lee then?”

I shrugged my shoulders and took the turnoff going east. “Nothing.”

“Dog ... he’s scared to death. He looks at you like ... like you’re going to explode or something.”

“You know Lee.”

“Not that well, but enough to know he’s never been like that before.” She stopped a moment, then: “It has to do with the other day, doesn’t it? I mean, about those two men. There was a piece in the News ...”

“Coincidence.”

“It was on television, too. They said they were attacked and... mutilated. The police were following up leads.”

“I know. They contacted me.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t help them out. So they left.”

“Dog ... they contacted me, too. I ... told them we were there ...”

I reached over and squeezed her knee. “You did right, honey. What’s there to hide? New York’s a big town. Anything can happen. We just happened to be there when it did.”

“Dog...”

“Look, you know how long I was -gone ... about a minute and a half. You think I could attack and mutilate two big guys and come out of it without a scratch?”

Her answer was a long time coming. She was remembering the blood on my shirt. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

I let out a laugh. “You flatter me, baby.” Sharon grinned back and flopped back against the cushions.

Up ahead the outline of Linton showed above the tree-line, and the quadruple smokestacks that marked the Barrin factory reared their fingers toward the sky. Three of them were dormant. The fourth was gasping out a thin wisp of gray pollutant. If Linton reflected the economy of the Barrin Industries, it wasn’t a very thriving town.

We cut through the center of the city and took the road that circled the vast factory site. The old-fashioned brick, the archaic tower and the climbing vines made the place look more like a college than a commercial complex. The one-hundred-fifty-year-old clock still kept the right time and the acres of land inside the low wall were well trimmed, but empty of the stacked materials that used to clutter the place. A steady throbbing came from inside the place and occasionally a figure would cross behind one of the windows, otherwise activity was at a minimum. About fifty cars were aligned in the parking spaces. One was directly in front of the main office entrance, even with the No Parking sign. The make and color were familiar and I looked at it again, but the question was answered when Cross McMillan stepped out of the doors, two others trailing him, and glanced around with the air of a person about to take possession.

“Your friend,” Sharon said. “I wonder what he’s doing there.”

“He thinks he’s going to take over the joint.” I laid on the gas and pulled out of sight of the entrance. “He’d better not get too smug about it.”

“Maybe he has reason to be. The McMillan family never was known for their humility. They always were