The Golden Gizmo

remarkable. You've preyed on your fellow citizens with one kind of racket or another ever since you went into circulation. You get a chance in the Army to redeem yourself, and you throw it away. You sell out. You help to tear down the prestige of the flag you swore allegiance to. You've never been any good. You've never done a single unselfish, honest deed in your whole life.'

The soft, amiable voice ceased to speak. Toddy pushed himself up from his chair. 'Thanks for the sermon,' he said. 'I don't think I'll stay for the singing.'

'Sit down, Kent.'

'Huh-uh. You people can't make a charge stick against me. You've had no right to hold me this long.'

'We can see that you're held by other authorities.'

'Hop to it, then.'

'What's the hurry?' said McKinley. 'It always gets me to see a man throw himself away. Maybe I said a little too much. If I did, I'll apologize.'

Toddy sat back down. He had intended to from the beginning. It had simply seemed bad, psychologically, to let McKinley crack the whip too hard.

'As a matter of fact,' McKinley continued, 'I think my statement was a little sweeping. If you hadn't tried to help Miss Chavez there in San Diego, you might have escaped. That's something in your favor. Of course, you may have had some selfish motive for staying. But-'

'Try real hard,' said Toddy. 'You'll think of one.'

'Don't coax me.' McKinley's eyes glinted. 'You want to get along with me or not, Kent? If you don't, just say so. I've got something better to do with my time than argue with two-bit con men.'

Toddy swallowed harshly and got a grip on himself. He'd been kidding himself about that psychology business. A little, anyway. He was losing his temper. He was letting a cop get his goat.

'You're trying to do a job,' he said, 'but you're going about it the wrong way. You're not softening me up. You're getting nowhere fast. Now why don't you drop it and start all over again?'

'Who supplied the gold to this outfit, Kent?'

'I don't know.'

'You've got a good idea.'

'Maybe.'

'Let's have it, then. Come on. Spit it out.'

'No,' said Toddy.

'You want a deal, huh? All right. You play square with me, and I'll do what I can for you.'

'That,' said Toddy, 'isn't my idea of a deal.'

'I'll give you one more chance, Kent. I don't believe you know anything, anyway, but I'm willing to give you a chance. Turn it down and you'll be touring jails for the next three years.'

Toddy grinned derisively. Three years, hell! McKinley misunderstood the grin. He jabbed a button on his desk, and the deputy jailer came back in.

'Take him out of here,' said McKinley. 'Lock him up and throw the key away. We won't want him anymore.'

The jailer took Toddy's elbow. Toddy got up and they started for the door. He was sick inside. He'd played his cards the only way he could, but they just hadn't been good enough. Now it was all over.

'Kent.'

The jailer paused, gave Toddy a nudge. Toddy didn't turn around. He didn't say anything. He was afraid to.

'This is your last chance, Kent. You go through that door and you'll never get another one.'

Toddy hesitated, shrugged. He took a step toward the door and his hand closed over the knob. He turned it. Behind him he heard McKinley's amiable, unwilling chuckle.

'All right. Come on back. I'll talk to Kent a little longer, Chief.'

The jailer went out the door. Toddy, the palms of his hands damp, went back to his chair.

'All right,' said McKinley calmly, as though the scene just past had never taken place. 'You were saying I was going about my job the wrong way. Could be. I've been in this work for fifteen years, but I learn something new every day. Now tell me where you think I was wrong.'

'You want something definite from me,' said Toddy. 'You haven't offered anything definite in return.'

'We can't actually promise anything. Except to use our influence.'

'That's good enough for me.'

'Call it settled, then. We'll try to wipe the slate clean.' McKinley smiled. 'You haven't committed any murders anywhere, have you? I don't think we could square those.'

Toddy shook his head. 'No murders.'

'Good,' said McKinley. 'Now, let's see what we've got. You were buying gold. You accidentally- accidentally on purpose, maybe- picked up a valuable watch-a chunk of bullion-at Alvarado's house. He checked on you, found out you were hot, and offered you a job. If you turned it down, he threatened to-'

McKinley broke off and made a deprecating gesture. 'Maybe,' he said, 'Miss Chavez doesn't have her facts straight. Maybe you'd better do the talking.'

'She has them straight,' said Toddy.

'Why did you go to Tijuana, Kent?'

'Alvarado told me to. I'-Toddy coughed-'I was to go there and wait for him. He didn't say why.'

'Cough a little longer,' McKinley suggested. 'Maybe you can think of a better one.'

'No,' said Toddy. 'I think we'd better let that one stand. There's something in the rules about impeaching your own witnesses. If I did take a little gold across the border, it's just as well that you have no knowledge of it.'

'Mmmm,' drawled McKinley. 'You don't know why he wanted you to go there-you weren't in any position to ask questions. So you went, and you got slugged. And if Alvarado hadn't intervened you'd have been killed.'

'That's right. It's this way,' said Toddy. 'After it was all over, Alvarado told me why he'd wanted me to go to Tijuana. He had it in for the gold-supplier. He was trying to wash him up. So Alvarado let him know I was going to this place in Tijuana, hoping that he'd try to kill me.'

He paused, conscious of the pitfall he was approaching. How to tell a plausible story without mentioning Elaine.

'Did you ever try telling the truth?' said McKinley. 'The complete truth? You might enjoy it.'

'I am trying to.' Toddy frowned earnestly. 'But it's a pretty mixed-up deal. It's hard to explain something when you don't completely understand it yourself. You see, Alvarado wanted to get this guy but he got orders to leave him alone. So he had to back up. He wouldn't tell me anything. I had to guess why I was slugged.'

'You knew who the gold-supplier was, in other words?'

'He thought I did-or could find out; it was the only reason he could have for wanting to kill me.'

McKinley ran a stubby hand through his thin red hair. He sighed, stood up, and turned to the window. He stared down into the street, hands thrust into his pants pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels.

'It doesn't figure,' he said to the window. 'It doesn't because you're holding out something. I don't know why, but I'm reasonably sure of one thing. You know who the gold-supplier is.'

'I think I know.'