right. What do you want?’
‘Will you come with me, please.’
I didn’t move. I stared at him, the cigarette between my fingers sending up a thin coil of smoke. After a time he realised that I was waiting for him to speak.
‘My employer, the Colonel, is waiting in the car,’ he said irritably. ‘He wants to see you.’
‘So what?’
‘So you’d better do as he wants.’ The mask had slipped a little, the voice lost some of its careful schooling and, in the shadow of the visored cap, his eyes glinted with a mingling of rage and contempt. I shrugged.
‘He’s going to be awfully disappointed. Go back and tell him that, if he wants to see me, he knows where to find me.’
‘You refuse to come?’
‘I refuse to obey the orders of any dressed-up lackey,’ I said evenly, and something within me smiled at the expression on his face. ‘Go back to your boss and tell him that.’
‘You know who he is?’ He couldn’t seem to understand why I wasn’t fawning at his heels. ‘Colonel Geeson is a very rich man. Now, will you come?’
‘No.’ Deliberately I dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath my heel. ‘I’m different from you, buster. I haven’t sold myself to ten million dollars, and I don’t have to jump when he gives the orders.’
‘Why, you stinking shamus!’ The mask had slipped all the way now and naked rage glared at me from the shadow of the visor. ‘If he wanted to he could buy a dozen just like you from any store. Who the hell do you think you are?’
‘A man,’ I said grimly. I got up from the desk and stepped towards him. ‘Now get out of here and tell your personal god that I’m waiting to see him as arranged.’ I stared at him. ‘Better hurry, sonny: your nice, clean boots might get all dirty.’
He swung at me then, a wild, rage-dictated blow at my face, and I felt the wind of its passing as I swayed back. I didn’t mind the blow, I’d asked for it; what I didn’t like was the way his boot swept up towards my groin.
That made me annoyed.
I twisted, letting the heavy boot injure air as it slipped up the side of my thigh, then grabbed it as it reached the top of its swing. I twisted, swivelling the toecap around the heel, and he yelled as he threw himself in the direction of the rotation. He was smart, at that; if he hadn’t, I’d have dislocated his hip. I smiled as his face smacked against the floor.
I would have let him alone then, let him limp back downstairs with a sore ankle and a sore nose, but he made the mistake of going for a gun.
I caught the glitter of it as it swung towards me, and I kicked at it. It fell from his hand, skittering towards a corner, and he threw himself after it. I trod on his hand just as he reached the butt.
‘Cut it out,’ I snapped. ‘You’re getting your uniform all dirty.’
He swore and clawed at me with his free hand. I stepped back and, as he tried to grab the gun, I swung my foot against the joint of his jaw. He sighed, his head jerking back, then sagged as he collapsed on the floor.
I picked up the gun, a .38 automatic, and poised it in my hand. It was a cheap, nickel-plated job, nothing special and probably as erratic as hell, but at close quarters it could kill a man just as surely as the most expensive hand-weapon ever made. I slipped out the magazine, thumbed the cartridges onto the desk, then jerked the slide to expel the one in the chamber. Releasing the slide, I threw the empty weapon down beside the sleeping man. Lighting a cigarette, I swept the cartridges into a drawer, then sat down on the edge of the desk, frowning at the unconscious figure on the floor.
I was still staring when the door opened and a man walked into the office.
He was an old man, tired, his face bearing the stamp of a lifetime of years. He stood, wheezing a little, leaning heavily on a snake-wood cane. His clothes were good, his soft hat probably cost more than I owed; his shoes were the kind which had their own last. Gold gleamed from his wrist, his cuffs, his fingers, and his teeth. He looked at me, then at the sleeping beauty, then at me again.
‘Yours?’ I blew smoke towards the chauffeur, and raised my eyebrows. He nodded.
‘What happened?’ His voice was a dry whisper, sounding like the rustle of dead leaves as they rubbed together when driven by the wind.
‘He and I had a difference of opinion,’ I said casually. ‘I won.’
‘Get him out of here, Mr. Lantry.’
‘You know me?’ I nodded. ‘And you must be Colonel Geeson.’
He nodded and slumped into the customer’s chair. I went across to the water cooler and filled a paper cup. I threw water and cup into the chauffeur’s face. It didn’t seem to do any good, so I picked up his feet and dragged him out of the office and into the corridor outside. It was cold out there, and dark, a good place to sleep. I picked up the empty gun and threw it beside him, then returned to my desk.
The old man stared at me, watching with his cold, snake-like eyes, and I sighed as I sat down and lit a cigarette.
‘Why didn’t you come when I sent for you?’ he demanded.
‘You,’ I reminded him, ‘stated that you would be coming to see me on private and urgent business. It’s that difficult, the privacy I mean, with a chauffeur present?’
‘The driving compartment is sealed,’ he said absently. ‘Was that your only reason?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Or was it to impress me with your independence?’ He stared at me with his glittering eyes. ‘Arrogance isn’t independence, Mr. Lantry.’
‘A man values what he wants,’ I said. ‘If he values it enough, he will go and get it. Also,’ I dragged at the cigarette, ‘if you’d have wanted to meet me in your car you could have said so.’
‘Caution.’ He nodded. ‘I was told that you were a cautious man.’
‘By whom?’
‘By the man who recommended that I should see you.’ He obviously wasn’t going to give me the name and I was tired of playing games. I got down to business.
‘Well, what can I do for you?’
‘You can help me,’ he whispered, and something seemed to relax deep inside of him. I’d seen it before, that relaxation. It’s always nice to know that you’ve got someone to do your worrying for you, especially when you’ve got the money to pay for it. ‘You see, Lantry, it’s my wife. She—’
‘Hold it.’ I pulled a scratch-pad towards me and made some pothooks. ‘Let’s start at the beginning. You’re Colonel Geeson, you have a big house on Lower Manhattan, and a permanent penthouse off Fifth Avenue. You also own ten million dollars.’
‘That is correct.’ He didn’t show his surprise at my knowing his business. Almost everybody would know that.
‘Good.
