enough of an old hand to stay out of the hands of other pros so far and he'd be playing it smart and cagy.
Caesar Mario Tulley was going to get me that address.
Renee had slipped back into her robe and was sitting on the end of the couch, watching me with a small, wistful smile. 'I hate telephones,' she said.
'Things are beginning to move.'
'I know. You came, now you have to go.'
'Your turn the next time,' I said.
'It's all right, Mike. Some things are more important than others.' She saw me frowning, not knowing how to answer her, and nodded. 'Really, I understand,' she added.
'Beaver's someplace around Columbus and a Hundred-tenth Street, Woody's boys have him hemmed in. He's probably pinned down temporarily, but not located yet. I want first crack at that bastard.'
'You know where he is?'
'No, but somebody else might have the answer.'
'Mike ...' Renee's face went soft and worried. 'Please be careful. I would like to see you again.'
'You will.'
'This wild business of yours ... well, I guess I've been in a pretty distant world.' She licked her lips and shook her head in disbelief. 'Dead people ... I've been shot ...' her eyes met mine then, '... and you, Mike.'
'Things aren't all that bad,' I said.
She tried to smile, but it was forced. I suddenly felt pretty silly standing there without any clothes on. She knew what I was feeling, faked a grin, then stood up and frowned. Her hand shot out to the table to support herself.
'You all right?' I asked her.
She touched the side of her head, blinked, then nodded, taking a deep breath. 'Just my head. I still can't move too quickly. I get dizzy when I do.' Her smile came back, this time with natural ease. 'Why don't you go inside and get dressed? I'm going to call my maid back. There are times when I just don't like to be left alone.'
I picked up my clothes, somehow feeling guilty, and went into the bedroom. I showered quickly, climbed into my clothes, snugged the .45 down in its sling and went back into the living room.
For a minute I thought she wasn't there, then I saw a small upturned palm sticking out from behind the chair and half ran to where she was lying. Her eyes were partially slitted open and a trickle of blood was oozing down from under the pad on her scalp.
I got my hands under her arms and lifted her to the couch, stretching her out with a pillow under her feet. A couple of ice-cold wet towels finally brought a flicker to her eyes and she moaned softly. 'What the hell happened, kid?'
She let her eyelids close, then open. 'I was ... calling Maria . .. and I fainted.' I looked at the compress on her head. One end had come loose from where it had evidently hit something. She winced and pushed my hand away.
'You want me to get a doctor?'
'No ... I'll be all right. Please ... don't leave until Maria gets here.'
'Sure, kid. How do you feel?'
'Awful ... headache.'
Luckily, Maria's sister only worked three blocks away and she was there in ten minutes. She helped me get Renee into bed, but kept looking at me suspiciously as though she didn't believe what really had happened. She made me leave while she got a nightgown on her, then came bustling back into the living room, frowning. Just in time I kicked the vibrator under the couch before she saw it. 'You stay. I'm going to the drugstore for something to make her sleep.'
I got that guilty feeling again and just nodded.
From the bedroom I heard Renee call my name and I walked in and took her hand. There was a fresh bandage in place and the blood had been wiped from her hair. 'Mike .. I'm sorry.'
'Forget it.'
'Go do what you have to do,' she said softly.
I looked at my watch. It was still early. Caesar liked to work the later crowds; he looked a little more pitiful under the night lights. 'I got time,' I told her.
It was thirty minutes before Maria got back with a plastic bottle of capsules, and another thirty before the drowsiness came over Renee's eyes. Just before they closed, she said, 'It
'Crazy, but beautiful,' I answered.
Maria gave me another of those stern looks and nodded toward the door. 'Now you go.'
And I went.
I called William Dorn's apartment from the first open bar I came to. A maid answered and said Mr. Dorn was in a business conference and couldn't be disturbed at the moment.
'Give him a message for me, please.'
'Certainly, sir.'
'Tell him Miss Talmage suffered a slight relapse and has been given a sedative, but there's nothing to worry about.'
'Oh ... then she won't be at the meeting this evening?'
'I'm afraid not.'
'Yes, thank you, Doctor. Is there anything Mr. Dorn can do?'
'Nothing at all.'
'Very well, Doctor, and thank you again.'
I hung up and grunted. I didn't think I sounded like a doctor at all.
The rain was coming down harder and I turned up my collar against it. Somewhere Beaver was hiding and Woody and his boys were waiting.
It was going to be a trouble night.
CHAPTER 10
They could only hold the story back just so long. When more than one person knows, there is no secret. The final edition of the evening paper carried the opener that was the crack in the whole faulty scheme of security. An unmentioned source had leaked the information that the dead guy in the subway station had died of a highly contagious disease and upon further investigation nothing could be learned from officialdom about the matter. There were vigorous denials, but no one offered other explanation. The Newark paper went a little further, an editorial demanding an answer over a body-shot of the corpse.
So far nobody had put the obvious pieces in place . . . the sudden show of harmony between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R., the burst of activity from the armed forces reservists and the presence of the Fort Detrick C.B. warfare teams. But it was coming. No amount of security was going to stop people with imagination from thinking along certain lines, then proving out their theories. Tomorrow a few more questions would be asked, then when no answers were forthcoming the dam would burst and every end of the news media would be jamming down the throat of bureaucracy. Tom-Tom Schneider was dead, his killers were dead. What other pieces of sensationalism could they dig up to bury the biggest news story of them all?
I walked up Broadway past the offices of WOBY-TV and wondered how Eddie Dandy was doing. On impulse, I turned in out of the wet, found the receptionist just going out for a coffee break and asked her.
Eddie Dandy had just come in an hour ago. He was in his office and wasn't to be disturbed. I thanked her, let her go for her coffee and took the elevator upstairs. I spotted the two guys by his door before they saw me, turned right instead of toward his office, rounded the corridor until I found an empty desk and picked up the phone and dialed Eddie's number.
His hello was tired and curt and I said, 'Mike Hammer, Ed. How goes it?'
'Stinking, kid. Where are you?'
'Right down the hall. Can you break away from the watchdogs long enough to go to the John?'
