1955 - You've Got It Coming (6 page)

Ben replaced the receiver and stood frowning down at the blotter on his desk. Harry Green? Who was this guy? Where was he getting all these diamonds from? If she said there were three million dollars’ worth of diamonds, then he was pretty sure there were three million dollars of diamonds. He had always been able to trust Glorie.

He wandered over to the window to look once more at Fay.

She'll get old. We all do. Even you're not as handsome as you
used to be.

Damn her! To say a thing like that. It spoilt his morning.

II

G
lorie was too preoccupied with her thoughts as she walked down the boulevard to notice a tall, slouching man, wearing a dark topcoat and a slouch hat, who sat in a Buick convertible on the far side of the road. His lean, hard face, his hooked nose and thin lips gave him the look of a hawk. He watched her through the windshield of the car, saw her pause at the bus stop, and when the bus arrived, get on board. He shifted the gear lever and drove after the bus.

As the bus took her towards her apartment, Glorie was thinking that the first important move in Harry's plan had been accomplished. The interview had been no worse than she had expected. She had guessed that Ben would have treated her as he had treated her. She felt slightly sick as she remembered the sneering way he had looked at her. She thought how much he had changed since they had been lovers. It seemed to her now to be impossible that they had ever been happy together: unbelievable.

She didn't envy the pretty doll she had seen under the sunray lamp. In fact she pitied her. She would earn everything Ben gave her, and she would probably not last long. But there was no doubt that she was pretty and attractive.

She had been a fool not to have smartened herself up a little before she had seen Ben. It would have saved her that insulting, contemptuous look Ben had given her: a look that had made a sharp dent in her already sagging ego.

She must warn Harry to be on his guard. Ben was certain to make every effort to dig into his background. She remembered he had once said that he never took anyone on trust. “If a guy acts cagey, he has something to hide,” he had said. “If he has something to hide, I want to know what it is: it might give me a hold on him.”

She suddenly stiffened as a thought dropped into her mind. It was more than likely that Ben had sent one of his men after her.

What a fool she was! Already the bus was slowing down for the stop a few yards from her apartment house. In another few seconds she might have taken one of Ben's men right to Harry.

She remained on the bus and let it go beyond her usual stop.

She looked quickly at the other passengers. There were only four of them: three women and an elderly clergyman. The danger, she told herself, wouldn't be on the bus. She would be followed by car. She looked back through the rear window at the slow-moving mass of traffic.

Any one of the cars behind the bus could be carrying Ben's man. She paid the additional fare and got off the bus, three stops higher up that put her in the heart of the shopping centre. She had first to make sure she was being followed, and if she was, then she had to shake the follower off. She made her way through the crowd and stepped quickly into the entrance of Ferrier's, one of the big stores. She paused to look back.

A Buick convertible forced its way across the double line of traffic and parked fifty yards or so further up the street. A tall, slouching figure of a man got out of the car and wandered towards her.

He looked the kind of man Ben would employ, and with her heart beating rapidly, she entered the store. She walked through the various departments to the escalator that would take her to the next floor. As she was carried upwards, she looked back into the well of the store.

The tall man, hands in pockets, a cigarette between his thin lips, was moving with long strides to the escalator, and she was now satisfied that she hadn't underestimated Ben. He had sent someone after her.

She went into the hosiery department and bought herself a pair of nylon stockings. The department was almost empty. The tall man wasn't in sight.

Then she went down the escalator again and crossed over to a row of telephone booths. The last one in the row was empty. A woman was in the one next to it. By the way she was arranging her parcels and making herself comfortable, Glorie guessed she would be there for some time. She stepped into the end booth and slid the door shut. Screening the dial with her body, she dialled her apartment number. While the bell was ringing, she glanced through the glass panel of the door.

The tall man was nearby, examining an electric razor he had picked up from a display of razors on a counter. She knew he wouldn't be able to overhear her and she waited impatiently for Harry to answer. He came on the line after a moment or so.

“Harry? This is Glorie.”

“How did you get on?” he asked anxiously.

“It's all right. He'll see you. Now listen, Harry, he's sent one of his men after me. I think he wants to find out who you are, and he thinks I'll lead him to you. I'm calling from Ferrier's, and his man is right outside. You've got to pack and leave at once. This man mustn't see you. I'll keep him busy until you have time to pack and get a taxi. Then I'll lose him.” She looked at her watch. The time was twenty minutes to one o'clock. “I shall be at the corner of Western and Lennox at one-fifteen. There's a newsstand there. Stop the cab, get out and buy a paper. Don't look at me unless I speak to you. If I have shaken him off I'll join you in the cab. If he's still following me you must go to the station. The train leaves at two. If I can, I'll see you off, but if I can't, then we will meet in the lobby of the Astor in New York on Friday at eleven o'clock. Do you understand?”

“Sure.” Harry's voice sounded excited. “Don't take any risks, baby. I'll be there at one-fifteen.”

“Yes.” Glorie felt a little pang. She hated being parted from him, and the thought of the next three lonely days dismayed her.

“And Harry, be careful as you leave the apartment. Ben may have checked the telephone book and found where I live. He may have sent someone down to watch the house. Make certain you're not followed, won’t you?”

“I'll take care of that. He is going to see me?”

“Yes. I'll tell you what happened when we meet. One-fifteen, Harry, and be careful.”

As Harry laid down the receiver, he heard the front-door bell ring.

His mind occupied with what Glorie had been telling him, he crossed the room and entered the small hall. His hand was reaching to open the front door, when he paused, his face suddenly tightening. Since he had been living with Glorie he couldn't remember anyone calling after ten o'clock.

Who could this be? He remembered Glorie's warning. It was possible the caller was one of Ben's men. He stepped silently to the door and gently slid home the bolt. Then he waited, tense and listening. The bell rang again, sharply and persistently. Still Harry waited. Several minutes dragged by. Then the key in the lock began to move. Harry watched it, his heart thumping. Someone had nipped the end of the key in a pair of long forceps and was turning the key from the outside. There was a soft click as the lock snapped back, then the door handle turned and the door creaked against the bolt.

Harry stepped away from the door. Moving silently he went into the bedroom and pulled out his suitcase from under the bed.

The man outside would know there was someone in the apartment from the fact that the key was in the door. He would probably wait in the passage. He might wait there for the rest of the day.

Harry cursed under his breath. He looked at his wristwatch.

He had only twenty minutes before he met Glorie.

He packed hurriedly, taking only a change of underthings, a shirt, his best suit and another pair of shoes. He tiptoed into the bathroom for his shaving kit and sponge. Crossing to the bathroom window, he opened it and glanced out. The iron fire escape down to the back alley showed him his way out. He returned to the bedroom, finished packing, then he opened the top drawer of the chest, took from under a pile of shirts a Colt .45 automatic and a box of cartridges. He loaded the gun and slid it into his hip pocket, put the cartridges into the suitcase, closed the lid and snapped down the catches. Then he opened the wardrobe door, took out his topcoat and hat and put them on.

He went into the bathroom, pushed up the window and stepped out on to the iron platform of the escape.

A girl who worked at a drug store on the corner of the block and who was friendly with Glorie lived in the apartment below.

Harry knew she would be at work at this time and the apartment would be empty. He went down the iron steps to her bathroom window which was half open. He opened it fully, glanced down into the alley to make sure no one was watching him, then climbed into the bathroom, reached for his case and lowered the window. He walked through into the sitting room and into the hall. At the front door, he paused to turn up his coat collar and pull his hat further over his eyes. Then he opened the door and stepped into the passage.

The stairs leading to Gloria's apartment were at the end of the passage. A short, thickset man in a trench coat and black slouch hat lolled against the wall, a cigarette between his lips.

He gave Harry a casual, disinterested stare. Harry closed the door and picked up his suitcase. He was tense and his mouth was dry. This was a new experience to him, and it underlined the danger and the risks that lay ahead of him.

“Hey, bud,” the man said as Harry started down the passage.

“Just a moment.”

Harry half-turned. There was little light in the passage and he kept his head turned so the short man couldn't get a good view of him.

“What is it?”

“Miss Dane in?”

“How do I know? Why don't you go up and find out?”

“I couldn't get an answer. Does she live alone, bud?”

“Yes.” Harry began to move down the passage. “I've got a train to catch. You'd better talk to the janitor.”

The man grunted and Harry went quickly to the front door, opened it and went down the steps. He walked the length of the street. At the corner, he paused to look back. Apart from an empty car that stood a hundred yards or so from the apartment house, the street was deserted.

A taxi cruised past and Harry waved his hand.

“Western and Lennox,” he said, “and snap it up.”

He sat, half turned, so he could look out of the rear window, but no car followed him. His watch showed exactly one-fifteen as the cab pulled up at the newsstand.

Glorie was waiting, and before Harry could get out of the cab, she had run across the sidewalk and got in beside him.

“Where to?” Harry asked.

“The station.”

The driver looked at Harry for confirmation, then at his nod, he pulled out into the slow-moving traffic.

“All right?” Glorie asked softly.

“Yes.”

They sat in silence while the cab fought its way through the heavy traffic. Glorie held Harry's hand, looking at him anxiously.

When they reached the station and Harry had paid off the cab, they walked together to the station buffet. Glorie went over to a vacant table in a corner while Harry bought two cups of coffee and carried them over.

“Your pal's turning on the heat,” he said as he sat down. He went on to tell her what had happened. “I don't know how you're going to get into the apartment,” he concluded. “The door's bolted on the inside. I guess you'll have to wait until Doris gets back and get in through the bathroom window.”

Glorie shook her head.

“I'm not going back. It's not safe, Harry. I'm not kidding myself I'll be so lucky next time. If I go back, Ben will put more than one man on to follow me, and I'll never shake them off. It was only luck that I got away from him this time. I went into the ladies' room at Ferrier's. There was a way out through the staff entrance. But I won’t get away with it a second time. I'm coming with you to New York. We mustn't travel together. We'll meet as arranged at the Astor at eleven on Friday.”

“But you haven't anything packed.”

She shrugged.

“I can get all I want in New York.” She leaned forward, her hands on the table. “You've got to be careful, Harry. Don't trust Ben. He's altered. I scarcely knew him. He's much more dangerous and more ruthless.”

“What happened?”

Briefly she told him of the interview.

“That's pretty good. Don't worry about me. You've given me the opening I want. I'll take care of him.”

“Don't trust him.” Glorie's eyes were anxious. “Get the money before you do the job. Don't listen to any of his promises and don't let him scare you.”

Harry grinned.

“He won’t do that.” He finished his coffee, then glanced at his strap watch. “Well, I guess we'd better get our tickets. You go first. See you at the Astor on Friday.”

“Yes.” She looked at him. “I shall miss you, Harry.”

“It won’t be for long.”

She got up and touched his shoulder..

“Look after yourself, darling.”

“You bet.”

He watched her walk the length of the buffet. His eyes took in her straight back and her slim, shapely legs. He thought if she'd only smarten herself up she'd be quite a looker. He felt a little surge of affection for her. She had guts, and that was what few women had.

He lit a cigarette, dropping the match into the saucer of the cup.

Well, this was it he thought. This is the beginning of it. If he had any luck, in twenty days' time he would be worth fifty thousand dollars.

If he had any luck…

III

O
n the evening of 16th of January, a taxi pulled up outside Lamson's hotel on Sherbourne Boulevard West, and the driver reached out, turned the handle of the rear door and let the door swing open.

Storm clouds, driven by a blustery wind, had chased across the sky most of the day, and now the wind had lessened, and rain, that looked like thin steel rods in the yellow light of the street lamps, was falling steadily. It made swift-running rivulets in the gutters, dripped from the awning of a drug store, next to the hotel, and drummed on the roof of the cab.