The Mike Hammer Collection

Hy squeezed his mouth shut and didn’t say anything for a full minute. He laid the papers down and leaned back in his chair. “Why, Mike?”

“I don’t know, Hy. I don’t know why at all.”

“If what I heard is true she doesn’t have a chance.”

“She has a chance,” I told him softly.

“Maybe it really isn’t her at all, Mike.”

I didn’t answer him. Behind us the door opened and Marilyn came in. She flipped an envelope on Hy’s desk and set down the coffee container. “Here’s a picture that just came off the wires. Del said you requested it.”

Hy looked at me a little too quickly, opened the envelope and took out the photo. He studied it, then passed it across.

It really wasn’t a good picture at all. The original had been fuzzy to start with and transmission electrically hadn’t improved it any. She stood outside a building, a tall girl with seemingly black hair longer than I remembered it, features not quite clear and whose shape and posture were hidden under bulky Eastern European style clothing. Still, there was that indefinable something, some subtlety in the way she stood, some trait that came through the clothing and poor photography that I couldn’t help but see.

I handed the photo back. “It’s Velda.”

“My German friend said the picture was several years old.”

“Who had it?”

“A Red agent who was killed in a skirmish with some West German cops. It came off his body. I’d say he had been assigned to REN too and the picture was for identification purposes.”

“Is this common information?”

Hy shook his head. “I’d say no. Rather than classify this thing government sources simply refuse to admit it exists. We came on it separately.”

I said, “The government knows it exists.”

“You know too damn much, Mike.”

“No, not enough. I don’t know where she is now.”

“I can tell you one thing,” Hy said.

“Oh?”

“She isn’t in Europe any longer. The locale of REN has changed. The Dragon has left Europe. His victim got away somehow and all indications point to them both being in this country.”

Very slowly, I got up, put my coat and hat on and stretched the dampness out of my shoulders. I said, “Thanks, Hy.”

“Don’t you want your coffee?”

“Not now.”

He opened a drawer, took out a thick manila envelope and handed it to me. “Here. You might want to read up a little more on Senator Knapp. It’s confidential stuff. Gives you an idea of how big he was. Save it for me.”

“Sure.” I stuck it carelessly in my coat pocket. “Thanks.”

Marilyn said, “You all right, Mike?”

I grinned at her a little crookedly. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look right,” she insisted.

Hy said, “Mike—”

And I cut him short. “I’ll see you later, Hy.” I grinned at him too. “And thanks. Don’t worry about me.” I patted the gun under my coat. “I have a friend along now. Legally.”

While I waited, I read about just how great a guy Leo Knapp had been. His career had been cut short at a tragic spot because it was evident that in a few more years he would have been the big man on the political scene. It was very evident that he had been one of the true powers behind the throne, a man initially responsible for military progress and missile production in spite of opposition from the knotheaded liberals and “better-Red-than- dead” slobs. He had thwarted every attack and forced through the necessary programs and in his hands had been secrets of vital importance that made him a number-one man in the Washington setup. His death came at a good time for the enemy. The bullet that killed him came from the gun of The Dragon. A bullet from the same gun killed Richie Cole and almost killed me twice. A bullet from that same gun was waiting to kill Velda.

She came in then, the night air still on her, shaking the rain from her hair, laughing when she saw me. Her hand was cool when she took mine and climbed on the stool next to me. John brought her a martini and me another Blue Ribbon. We raised the glasses in a toast and drank the top off them.

“Good to see you,” I said.

“You’ll never know,” she smiled.

“Where are you meeting Pat?”

She frowned, then, “Oh, Captain Chambers. Why, right here.” She glanced at her watch. “In five minutes. Shall we sit at a table?”

“Let’s.” I picked up her glass and angled us across the room to the far wall. “Does Pat know I’ll be here?”

“I didn’t mention it.”

“Great. Just great.”

Pat was punctual, as usual. He saw me but didn’t change expression. When he said hello to Laura he sat beside her and only then looked at me. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

“That’s nice.”

He was a mean, cold cop if ever there was one, his face a mask you couldn’t penetrate until you looked into his eyes and saw the hate and determination there. “Where do you find your connections, Mike?”

“Why?”

“It’s peculiar how a busted private dick, a damn drunken pig in trouble up to his ears can get a gun-carrying privilege we can’t break. How do you do it, punk?”

I shrugged, not feeling like arguing with him. Laura looked at the two of us, wondering what was going on.

“Well, you might need it at that if you keep getting shot at. By the way, I got a description of your back alley friend. He was seen by a rather observant kid in the full light of the streetlamp. Big guy, about six-two with dark curly hair and a face with deep lines in the cheeks. His cheekbones were kind of high so he had kind of an Indian look. Ever see anybody like that?”

He was pushing me now, doing anything to set me off so he’d have a reason to get at me but sure, I saw a guy like that. He drove past me on the Thruway and I thought he was a tired driver, then he shot at me later and now I know damn well who he is. You call him The Dragon. He had a face I’d see again someday, a face I couldn’t miss.

I said, “No, I don’t know him.” It wasn’t quite a lie.

Pat smiled sardonically. “I have a feeling you will.”

“So okay, I’ll try to catch up with him for you.”

“You do that, punk. Meanwhile I’ll catch up with you. I’m putting you into this thing tighter than ever.”

“Me?”

“That’s right. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. It saves seeing you later.” He had me curious now and knew it, and he was going to pull it out all the way. “There is a strange common denominator running throughout our little murder puzzle here. I’m trying to find out just what it all means.”

“Please go on,” Laura said.

“Gems. For some reason I can’t get them out of my mind. Three times they cross in front of me.” He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “The first time when my old friend here let a girl die because of them, then when Senator Knapp was killed a batch of paste jewels were taken from the safe, and later a man known for his gem smuggling was killed with the same gun. It’s a recurrent theme, isn’t it, Mike? You’re supposed to know about these things. In fact, it must have occurred to you too. You were quick enough about getting upstate to see Mrs. Knapp here.”

“Listen, Pat.”

“Shut up. There’s more.” He reached in his pocket and tugged at a cloth sack. “We’re back to the gems