pretended that he wasn’t suffering. He wanted to show Fenner that he could take anything that was handed out without a squawk.
Nightingale said, “She was crazy about him. He was the only man she’d ever met who could give her what she wanted. He was no use to her otherwise, she wanted that Oriental and she wanted dough. So she cheated. . . .” He began to sway a little in the chair.
“Where is she now?”
“She took it on the lam when the shooting started. Anyway, Thayler would have given her the heat if I hadn’t broken in. I wish now . . . that ... I’d’ve waited . .. . before I shot him.”
Fenner was too late to catch him. He rolled off the chair on to the floor.
Fenner knelt down and lifted his head. “Crotti’s a good guy,” Nightingale said faintly. “You tell him I stood by you. That’ll make things . . . even.” He peered up at Fenner through his thick lenses, tried to say something and couldn’t quite make it.
Fenner said, “I’ll tell him. You’ve been a good guy to me.”
Nightingale whispered, “Get after . . . Carlos. He’s got a dive . . . back of Whiskey Joe’s. ...”
He grinned at Fenner, then his face tightened and he died.
Fenner laid his head gently on the floor and stood up. He wiped off his hands with his handkerchief, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Just Carlos now he told himself, then maybe he’d get through with this business. As he put his handkerchief away, he found the telegram. He pulled it out of his pocket and ripped the envelope. It ran:
Fenner crumpled the cable slowly in his hand. “So that’s that,” he said. “Now I guess I can finish this.”
He took one more look at Nightingale, then softly walked out of the bungalow.
Where was Glorie? Now that Thayler was dead she was footloose again. Fenner thought he might find her with Noolen. She might, of course, have gone anywhere, but Noolen was worth trying. When a dame sees three men shot to death, and misses the same death by such a close margin, she’s not likely to make smart plans. She had the skids under her and she’d go to the one person left whom she knew well. She ought to know Noolen all right, Fenner argued. He was her husband, wasn’t he?”
He got back on the main street, hired himself a taxi and went over to the Casino. Two patrolmen stood near the entrance and they both gave him a hard look as he ran up the steps. Fenner grinned as he saw this evidence of Noolen’s caution. He went through the big hall that was just closing down. Only one light burned, and apart from two Cubans in shirt-sleeves, covering the tables with dust sheets, the hall was empty. They glanced up when Fenner came in.
“Noolen in still?” Fenner asked, heading for the office.
“He’s busy right now,” one of the Cubans said, trying to intercept him. Fenner beat him to the door, pushed it open and went in.
Noolen, Kemerinski and Alex sat round the desk. A black unlabelled bottle and glasses stood before them, and they all were smoking. They all looked up, their faces startled, then, seeing Fenner, they relaxed. Noolen scowled at him. “What do you call this?” he said bitterly. “Schaife and Scalfoni dead, and these two guys nearly shot to hell. This your idea of smashing Carlos?”
Fenner wasn’t in the mood to play around with Noolen. He put his hands flat on the desk and looked Noolen in the face. “Pipe down, jughead. What’ve you got a bellyache about? Schaife and Scalfoni dead? So what? Think you can fight a war without any casualties? What about the other side? We’ve wiped out all their boats. We’ve burnt their base. Thayler’s dead, Nightingale’s dead, Miller’s dead, Bugsey’s dead, and six or seven others of the mob. Ain’t that giving value for money?”
Noolen sat staring at him. “Thayler?” His voice hardly reached above a whisper.
Fenner nodded. “That leaves Carlos and Reiger, I particularly want those two guys myself. Then the gang’s washed up.”
Kemerinski said, “This guy knows what he’s talkin’ about. I’ll play along with him still.”
Alex nodded and grunted.
Fenner said, “Okay. What are we waitin’ for? Where’s Whiskey Joe’s?”
“It’s a joint near Nigger Beach.”
Fenner turned to Noolen. “I’m goin’ after Carlos. When I get back, I’ve got something to say to you. Stick around. This is the finish of this business.”
He turned to the other two: “Get a couple of Thompsons. We’re goin’ to Whiskey Joe’s. Carlos’s over there.”
Alex went away. Kemerinski said, “Just we three?” He sounded a little uneasy-
Fenner shook his head. “I’m going. You two come in later and clear up the mess.”
Fenner went out with Kemerinski. Alex was waiting in the car, nursing two Thompsons. As Kemerinski drove off, Fenner said, “You two take the guns. You wait outside until you hear shooting, then come in and blast everything you see. Don’t stop shooting until there’s nothin’ to shoot at— get it?”
Alex said, “This has been a swell night.”
The big car went down Duval Street fast. Duval Street stretched right across the whole length of the island. It was late, and they met no cars. Kemerinski drove very fast. He cut speed as he reached South Street and swung the car to the right. At the bottom of South Street he drew to the curb and killed the engine. “Whiskey’s over on the corner at Nigger Beach.”
Fenner got out of the car and began walking down the street. The other two followed him, holding the Thompsons under their coats. Fenner said, “He’s got a place at the back. Would you know it?”
Alex said, “There’s a warehouse round the back, maybe that’s it.”
“We’ll go and look at it..”
Whiskey Joe’s bar had closed for the night. It was just a small pile of black woodwork in the darkness. Alex said, “Down this alley,” softly.
Fenner said, “Stick around while I have a look. I’ll be back.”
He went down the alley, which was very dark and smelt of decay and dark-alley smells. He walked carefully, not sneaking, but making no noise. At the end of the alley was a small square. Turning right and coming up behind Whiskey Joe’s, he could make out a big square building with a flat roof. That, too, was a black silhouette against the star-filled sky. He got closer found a door, tried it cautiously. It was locked. He moved along looking for a window, turned the corner and worked his way along the south side. Still no windows. Round the next corner an iron ladder set close to the wall led upwards into the darkness. Fenner guessed it would take him on to the roof.
He went back fast and noiselessly to the other two waiting at the mouth of the alley. “I think I’ve found the dump,” he said. “There’s only one door. All you two’ve got to do is to lie out there and start with the meat-grinder soon as they come out. Don’t show yourselves, just lie flat and grind away.”
He could see Kemerinski’s teeth as he grinned. “I’ll go up on the roof and send ’em out to you. Don’t make mistakes, an’ when you’ve done the job, beat it. I’ll look after myself.”
The two grunted to show they understood, and then Fenner retraced his steps to the building. He climbed up the iron ladder, testing each rung before he put his weight on it. He counted forty rungs before he reached the top. As his head came over the balustrade he saw in the centre of the roof a square skylight, through which a light was shining.
Fenner knew that he’d have to be mighty careful how he crossed over. The slightest sound he made would be heard by anyone underneath. Before getting on to the roof he walked along the balustrade and looked over. He spotted Alex and Kemerinski hiding in a long ditch that was exactly opposite the door of the warehouse. They saw him and waved. He raised his hand, and then lowered himself from the balustrade to the roof.
Holding his gun in his right hand, he inched his way across the space that divided him from the skylight. It took him quite a time, but he did it without a sound. Pushing his hat to the back of his head, he looked down into the room. Carlos was there. Reiger was there and another man he didn’t know. They were within six feet of Fenner. The room was very low, like a loft, and Fenner was so startled that he hurriedly jerked back.
Carlos was smoking on the bed. Reiger lolled, his head against the wall, in a chair; he was asleep. The other man dozed on the floor.
Fenner looked at the cross-pieces between the panes of the skylight; he felt their thickness gently with his
