At this moment, the telephone bell on Beigler’s desk shrilled. Beigler scooped up the receiver with a large, hairy hand and listened to the voice that hammered against his ear drum, then he said, “Stay with it, Tom. I’ll get Hess to you,” and he slammed down the receiver. As he began to dial, he said without looking at Jacoby, “Call the Chief, Max. Robbery at the Casino. Two men dead,” and then as Jacoby dropped his textbook and grabbed at another telephone, Beigler was already speaking to the Headquarters Control Room. “Alert all check points… robbery and murder at the Casino. All cars to be searched. Warning… these men are dangerous. Road blocks on all major and minor roads. They haven’t been gone more than three minutes. Immediate action. Alert Hess.” He waited only to hear the quiet, efficient voice of the controller say, “Okay, Sarg,” and then he hung up.
He swivelled around in his chair and looked at Jacoby, who was just replacing his receiver.
“The Chief’s coming,” Jacoby said.
“Okay, Max. You stay here. I’m going down to the Casino.” Beigler once again lifted the receiver. “Hess on duty?” he asked when the acting desk sergeant answered.
“Yeah. He’s across the road, having a beer.”
Beigler hung up, checked to see he was carrying his gun, then, struggling into his jacket, he left the Detectives’ room, taking the stairs three at a time.
FOUR
CHIEF OF POLICE TERRELL arrived at the Casino twenty minutes after the shooting. This was pretty fast going considering he had been in bed and asleep when Jacoby had called him.
Already the Homicide Squad, under Frank Hess, was at work. Dr. Lowis, the police surgeon, with two other doctors who had been in the Casino and had come to his aid, were working on the four unconscious girls and the two guards. The bodies of Mike O’Brien and Washington Smith were being photographed. Sergeant Beigler was trying to cope with Sid Regan. The old man was still in shock, but that didn’t stop him from being garrulous. What he was saying was so mixed up, Beigler had trouble in controlling his temper.
Five cars, packed with patrolmen, had arrived, and the officers were now holding back a vast crowd of people, all anxious to get a glimpse of the bodies.
Harry Lewis, white-faced but calm, greeted Terrell as he slid out of his car.
“They’ve got away with nearly all our cash,” Lewis said. “It’s a disaster, Frank. We’ll have to close the Casino tomorrow.”
“They may have got your cash, Harry,” Terrell said quietly, “but they haven’t got away… yet. Let me get into the picture. You take it easy,” and he walked over to Lepski, who was waiting for him. “What happened, Tom?”
Briefly, Lepski told him. He had heard a shot, rushed down to the vault, met the negro, who had shown fight, so Lepski had shot him.
While Terrell was listening to Lepski’s report, Beigler spotted his Chief. He said to Regan, “Okay, you relax. I’ll be right back. Just stay where you are,” and he hurried over to Terrell.
“Well, Joe?”
“The old guy has seen them all, but he is in shock,” Beigler said. “We’ll have to be patient with him, Chief. Once he has got his balance, he should be able to give us a description of all the men involved. Seems there were three of them, plus the driver of the truck, who seems to have lost his nerve or else he ratted on his pals. As soon as O’Brien started trouble, the driver took off in the truck. At least the old man has given me a description of the truck and the licence number. I’ve already alerted the road patrols. The truck can’t get far. It hasn’t a chance of getting past the road blocks.”
Terrell nodded. He was thankful he had a crew he could completely rely on.
“You keep working on him, Joe. We must have a description of all the men as soon as we can and then we will get the descriptions on the air. Watch him… he could be our star witness. See he’s protected.”
“Yes, Chief.”
As Beigler went back to Regan, Terrell walked down the passage to the vault.
Dr. Lowis was standing by the unconscious bodies of the four girls laid out on the floor. The other two doctors were working anxiously on Hank Jefferson. Bic Lawdry was already showing signs of coming to life.
“Well, doc?” Terrell asked, pausing in the doorway.
“The girls will be all right,” Lewis said. “It was some kind of paralysing gas. The container is on the floor over there. I haven’t touched it. This chap…” He indicated Hank, “is in a pretty bad way. He must have had a heavy dose. The other guard will be all right.”
Terrell’s keen eyes moved around the vault. He took a plastic bag from his pocket and very carefully rolled the empty gas cylinder into it, then he sealed the bag as Harry Lewis came in.
“My doorman tells me that a Corporation electrician was in the control room without authorisation,” he said. “He tells me the man reported a breakdown… there wasn’t one. He must have been one of the gang.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Terrell said. “How was it he didn’t report to you?”
“It would seem my staff are having it too good,” Lewis said, a bite in his voice. “This is going to cost him his job. I’ll take you to him.”
Beigler was talking to Sid Regan again.
“Let’s skip the background build-up,” he said impatiently. “What I want to know…” He paused as Lewis and Terrell came up the passage. “This old guy is driving me nuts,” he said to Terrell. “I just can’t keep him on the beam.”
“Let me handle him,” Lewis said quietly. He walked over to Regan who was sitting in his glass box, his eyes blank, but still talking. “Sid!” The firm voice made Regan lift his head. “You did a fine job,” Lewis went on, putting his hand on the old man’s arm. “Thanks… now, you can help the police find these men. They want a description of them. I know your photographic memory, Sid… no one like you to remember details… just think for a moment. There were three of them… is that right?”
The blankness went out of Regan’s eyes. He nodded.
“You’re right, Mr. Lewis. I remember them,” and then he began to talk sense, so fast, Beigler, notebook in hand, had difficulty in keeping up with him. “There was this short, fat guy with snow-white hair… he had a tattoo mark on his left hand… no, I’m wrong… it was his right hand… a girl with her legs apart. I’ve seen that before… you close your fist and her legs close. He was grinning all the time… blue eyes… then there was…”
“Keep talking, Sid, I’ll be right back,” Lewis said, patted the old man’s shoulder, then, jerking his head at Terrell, he led the way out into the hot, still night.
Once clear of the Casino, Maisky slowed the speed of the truck, but he still maintained a steady forty miles an hour. He knew all the side roads that led eventually to the sea: a honeycomb of narrow lanes which he had studied now for months. He drove a hundred yards or so along the broad highway that led to Miami, then turned off down a narrow road. Once away from the highway, he flicked up the lever of his dashboard and the two I.B.M. signs dropped off the truck, banging down on the road. Slightly accelerating, he continued on down the road for the best part of a mile, then he turned left, and driving more slowly, he went down a narrow road, lined either side by luxury villas; another left turn brought him to the sea.
His plan was working out exactly as he had foreseen. He had been certain that trouble would start at the Casino. He had known O’Brien would be the explosive spark to start the trouble for he had watched the security guard night after night and had known to the minute when he would visit the vault. This was the only reason why he had included Jack Perry among the members of the gang. He wanted Perry to start trouble. It would then give him the chance of driving away and leaving the rest of them on their own. It had been like looking in a crystal ball… the events predicted… the events taking place.
His heart beat a little faster when he thought what might have happened if his planning had been wrong. But it hadn’t been wrong, and now he was on the second leg of his operation to own two million dollars without having to share a dollar of it.
He drove the truck down on to the firm sand of the lonely beach where he had left his Buick. Speed was essential, he kept reminding himself, aware that his breathing was too fast and that he was sweating. There wasn’t
