Gleason looked up sharply. “You said fifty grand. I got twenty-five here.” He took a long sealed envelope from his inside pocket and laid it on the table.
Duffy looked at the seal, then he said, “Open it.”
Gleason tried twice, but his fingers bothered him. Duffy leant over, took the envelope from him, put his gun down on the table, and tore off the end of the envelope. He shook the contents on to the table and looked at it. Then he picked up the thin sheaf of notes and put it in his pocket. He took the note-book out and tossed it into Gleason’s lap.
Gleason looked at him in complete astonishment. Duffy shook his head. “You expected a double-cross, ain’t that right? I guess you ain’t keeping it long.”
Gleason thumbed through the book as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Duffy went over and picked up Gleason’s gun, took out the clip and then tossed the gun back on the floor. He put his own Colt down his waist-band and adjusted the points of his vest.
Gleason looked up at him. “This is the first level deal that’s happened to me,” he said.
Duffy’s eyes were still hard. “You don’t know a thing. You ain’t going to keep that list long. Morgan’s after it.”
Gleason stiffened and got to his feet. “Morgan? How the hell did Morgan know?”
Duffy shrugged. “I guess I talked too much,” he said. “Anyway, that’s your funeral.”
He walked to the door. “I gotta few things to fix, then I’m blowing.”
Gleason stood in the middle of the room, the note-book in his hands, staring at the floor. Duffy took one look at him, shrugged, and opened the door.
Duffy raised his hands just above his waist very quickly. She said, “Reach up, punk, the roof’s not high enough.”
Gleason came across quickly and jerked Duffy’s gun out. Then he said in a low voice, “Walk backwards.”
Duffy obeyed. Annabel came into the light. Her face was very pale, and it had a scraped, bony look. She looked a hundred years old, standing there hating him with her eyes. Gleason put Duffy’s gun into his hip pocket and then went across to Duffy and took the sheaf of notes from him. He gave a little grin. “Too bad,” he said.
Duffy continued to look at Annabel. He said very evenly and through his teeth, “You’d better let that heater off. I’ll kill you if I get the chance.”
She said, “Sit down.”
Duffy sat down because he wanted to, not because she told him to. She said to Gleason, “Put the radio on.”
Gleason looked at her, puzzled, then walked over to the radio, that was a little to the right and behind Duffy. When Gleason turned his back, Duffy saw Annabel stiffen. Her eyes seemed to film over, and her lips came off her teeth. Not understanding, he stared at her, then he suddenly guessed and gave a shout. Annabel shot at Gleason twice. The gun barked, then barked again. Gleason swung round, his face twisted, his eyes startled, unbelieving, frightened, then he crashed over, taking the radio with him.
“Don’t move,” Annabel said to Duffy, swinging the gun round to him.
Duffy sat very still, looking at Gleason. Then he said through stiff lips, “You poor devil.”
Annabel said, “I’ve been waiting a chance to get rid of that punk for some time.” She spat each word at him.
“They’ll burn you for this,” Duffy said coldly.
“Think so?” she laughed. “Can’t you see? Watch me pin it on you.”
She went over to Gleason’s gun, lying on the floor, and picked it up, Then she backed away from Duffy. “I’d like a chance of shooting you,” she said. “So start something if you’re tired of life.”
She wiped the .38 carefully on her skirt, then she tossed the gun beside Gleason. “That’s your gun,” she said, covering him with Gleason’s automatic.
Duffy grinned. “So what?”
She said, “Don’t you get it? I’m going to shoot you now. The police will find you. I shot you in self-defense after you killed Gleason. Don’t you think I’m cute?”
Duffy got slowly out of his chair. “You’re nutty,” he said evenly, and began to walk towards her.
She waited until he was within two yards of her, then she pulled the trigger. Her lips were off her teeth and little white specks of foam touched her mouth. The automatic went click—click—click. Then Duffy put his hand on the automatic and jerked it out of her hand. “I took the clip out before you showed up,” he said quietly, then he smacked her across her face with his open palm as hard as he could hit her. She bounced against the wall, slid down, and rolled on her side. She began to scream in a thin reedy tone that sent hot wires into Duffy’s brain.
From the organ loft, a tight voice said, “Pipe down, he ain’t hurt you. It was just a slap.”
CHAPTER XIII
THE LITTLE GUY SAID, “How the hell does one get down from this nest?”
Duffy looked at him, then he looked at Clive, and then he looked at Joe. Clive and Joe were carelessly holding guns. Duffy said, “You jump.” He went over to the sideboard and began to pour himself a drink.
Annabel sat up, pressed herself against the wall, and stared up at the three in the loft.
The little guy swung his short legs over the balcony and let himself drop. He landed on his shoulders with a thud. He sat up carefully and cursed. Then he said, “You come down, Clive; but Joe, you watch these birds and pop ’em if they get tough. You heard that, didn’t you, Joe? I said pop ’em if they get tough.”
Joe leant over the balcony and looked down. He looked a little tired. “Yeah,” he said, “I heard you. I’m watching okay.”
Clive scrambled over the balcony, making black marks with the toes of his shoes on the wall.
Duffy drank a little of the Scotch and felt better. He said, “You ain’t met these two before, have you?” to the little guy. “The stiff over there was Murray Gleason, and the redhead sitting on the floor showing all she’s got is Annabel.”
The little guy giggled, then said, “My, my, you go places, don’t you?”
Duffy said, “Sure. Well, now you’re here, what’s next?”
Clive went over to Gleason, turned him over, and searched him. He found the sheaf of notes and the little pocket-book. He came over with them to the little guy. They both examined the note-book carefully.
Duffy lost interest in them, he went over to Annabel. He said very quietly, “When you killed Olga you started something. I’m going to pin that on to you, if it takes me a hundred years.”
She drew back her lips and spat at him. He raised his hand, looked at her, then stepped away. “It’s time you were dead,” he said.
The little guy held the note-book and said to Clive, “Would you like to watch this?”
Clive said he would.
“Give him a hoop as well,” Duffy said.
The little guy looked at him with disapproval. “I told you before not to make fun of him.”
Clive said, “I’m going to rub this heel out.”
The little guy scratched his head, then looked up at Joe. “You heard that?”
Joe grinned. “Why not? It’s some time since Clive knocked anyone off.”
The little guy said, “Yes, that’s right. It
Clive turned slowly on Duffy, who was standing near the wall. Duffy’s face was tense, he pushed out his chin a little, the muscles in his neck suddenly going hard.
Annabel said from the floor, “Give it to him low down.”
Clive and the little guy both jerked their heads in her direction, and Duffy snapped up the light switch, then he dropped to his knees and shot away to the left. In his mind he could clearly see the wires that fed the two standard lamps. He groped for them, found nothing, groped again, touched them, and then pulled sharply. He felt
