Complete works of peter.., p.139
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 139
I get up.
"I am wise to you... you yellow-bellied love-child," I tell him. "This whole goddam business has stunk in my nostrils from the start. Ever since Montana started to pull that act on me I have been stickin' around lookin' for a fresh set-up. An' you are it....."
He runs his tongue over his lips.
"What the hell do you mean, Caution?" he says.
"I mean you are not Whitaker", I tell him. "You are just one more of the Panzetti beauty chorus tryin' to make me into the world's biggest sucker. Do you think I ain't wise to you, baby? This set-up has smelt from the start. Montana tells me a fairy story an' gets me down here. I meet you an' believe you are Whitaker. I get the dough an' hand it over to you. You go off an' turn it in to Panzetti. Maybe you let Geralda Varney go an' maybe you don't. But you still got Whitaker the real Whitaker.
"An' Panzetti makes that boyo finish off the blue-prints an' then he can start off all over again an' do a fresh deal. He can start the whole goddam market off once more. Maybe he thinks the German U.A.-1 boys will pay some more jack. An' even if they won't pay any more jack for the set of blue-prints they have already paid for, maybe they will pay some more to have Whitaker bumped off so's he can't invent any more dive-bombers for anybody else."
He stands there lookin' at me. He is sweatin'. He says in a hoarse sorta voice:
"Listen, Caution. I... "
I put up my hand.
"Save it, sweetheart," I tell him. "Because I do not wish to listen to you any more. I would not believe anything you said even if it was vouched for by a coupla angels with twenty-two carat gold wings an' all the proper fittin's. I would not believe you because it looks to me like all you guys are more scared of buckin' against Panzetti than you are of anythin' else. An' that bein' so there is only one thing for me to do."
"What are you going to do?" he says. He is sweatin' like it was midsummer.
"This is what I am goin' to do," I tell him.
I give him one sweet haymaker that sends him careerin' across the room. Then I get to work on him. I put some overtime in on this lousy bum that didn't even give me any joy. All the time I was sockin' him around the place I am thinkin' of Geralda an' wonderin' what sorta deal she is gettin'.
I leave him lyin' in the corner. He looks like somethin' that has been put through the mangle. I reckon this boyo will not be in circulation again for two or three days an' even then he won't be certain whether it is his jaw or one that he has hired out.
I go downstairs an' out onto the path. I ease around by the lake an' back to the car. But all the while I am wonderin' about one or two things that I cannot make out.
I am wonderin' what that guy Zokka was doin' kickin' around, watchin' my car. I am wonderin' about Geralda. I am wonderin' about a helluva lot of things.
I get back to the car an' get in. I light a cigarette an' sit there in the darkness thinkin'. Then I let in the clutch an' get out on to the road. I roll off towards Newbury.
I reckon there is only one way I can play this thing.
II.
I GET on the main road an' just meander along nice an' quiet. I am tryin' to get some sorta idea about what is in the back of Panzetti's mind an' how he will play this thing from now on. Because I can see how that boyo has worked it up to now.
Here is the set-up from the start. The German guy the U.A.-1 boys in America get at Panzetti in the first place because they probably know his record an' they think he is the boy for them. Panzetti has been outa business for some time. First of all the rackets ain't like they usta be before J. Edgar Hoover got busy. There ain't the money in the snatch game an' booze that there usta be. Now all the big-time mobsters are just fiddlin' around tryin' to angle themselves in on protection rackets and the dope an' vice businesses. The real big days for the number one mobster went out three-four years ago.
So I reckon that Panzetti is glad to get some business comin' his way at last. He tells the German guys that he will look after this business for 'em an' he puts a tail on Whitaker an' finds out just what sorta cuss he is. He finds out that Whitaker is goin' to marry Geralda Varney an' he also discovers that the boy is a bit haywire where the dames are concerned. So he tries the doll angle. He puts in Carlette Francini who contacts Whitaker an' pulls her old act on him. Whitaker falls like a sack of coke an' Panzetti, knowin' that Whitaker is a guy who will scare easy, gets some threatenin' letters written to him tellin' him what will happen if he don't come across with the dive-bomber plans.
Panzetti knows that Whitaker bein' the big mug he is will show the letters to Carlette an' discuss the business with her. Whitaker does this. Carlette then says that the only thing for him to do is to clear out an' come to England where he will be safe.
Now it is plenty easy for anybody to understand why Whitaker falls for this. First of all the goddam Germans have been makin' plenty of trouble for one an' all in the States. They know goddam well that America is practically producin' fifty per cent for Britain an' they reckon that if they can throw a spanner in the works they are as good as half winnin' the war. So they get good an' busy. Also you gotta realise these boys are well organised an' with plenty of jack to spend an' they stick at nothin' at all. They will just as soon cut your throat for FГјhrer an' Fatherland as they will buy you a shot of rye whisky if that suits 'em better at the moment.
So Whitaker scrams. He probably gets himself a passport under a phoney name an' he comes over to England. This is where I reckon that little so-an'-so Carlette pulls another fast one. She probably tells him that she has got friends over here an' that he can stay with 'em an' that she will come over as soon as she can an' join up with him an' so everything will be jake. She then sends the big mug off an' he comes over an' delivers himself into the hands of Willie Kritsch or Zokka or some other of Panzetti's guys who are already fixed over here an' waitin' for him. That disposes of Whitaker.
Carlette then comes over after stickin' around to find out just what action, if any, the Federal authorities are goin' to take when they find that Whitaker has skipped. She also sticks around to find out just what the Jerries who paid Panzetti to get the plans are thinkin', an' probably stalls 'em off with some story.
All the while Panzetti will be sittin' in the background. That boyo is a leery sorta cuss an' never shows himself unless he's got to.
Maybe Carlette tells 'em that it wasn't safe to pinch the stuff in America. That the Feds. would kick up too much of a stink, but that the thing to do is to get Whitaker over to England an' let him finish the plans there an' then they can be delivered over to the German guys somewhere in occupied territory in France, which, if you guys like to think it out, would not be a too difficult job when you got the right boyos to work it.
Everything goes like jake until Carlette finds out that I am comin' over here. So she guesses that the Federal Government have got wise to the fact that Whitaker has skipped for England. The next thing to do is to get me well outa the way before I can start anything.
But she slips up on this, so they have to try somethin' else. They get a fresh idea. This one is that Montana Kells, who is a clever dame an' is workin' over here for Panzetti on this racket, with that chauffeur boy friend of hers, is put in to tell me some phoney story about how she wants to get away from the Panzetti bunch and will spill the beans if I will look after her. Her job is to get me to go down to this Casino Lodge dump and meet up with a guy that I am goin' to think is Whitaker. I am then supposed to hand over two hundred and fifty grand to this mug, an' he is goin' off, after which I reckon Panzetti will get to work on the real Whitaker, make him finish off the plans an' then start the market off again. He will probably hand over one set of blue-prints to us, skip back to U.S. on the safe conduct that is part of the bargain, an' I will take six to four that the dirty so-an'-so will take back photostatic copies of the blue-prints an' stick the German U.A.-1 boys for some more jack when he gets back.
All of which looks like the Panzetti technique all right, because that guy has got medals for sellin' a thing about forty times to seventy different people an' then double-crossin' the lot of 'em.
He also knows that he is on a good market because both the American an' British Governments want this business about the Whitaker dive-bomber kept plenty quiet. He knows that nobody will want to make a big noise about it an' that is all to the good for him.
I would like to get my hooks on that mug. I got one or two little things I would like to try on him.
The road is as dark as hell. By now I am through Newbury an' on my way to Reading. I reckon with a bit of luck I can make Maidenhead in an hour an' I reckon that this visit to Maidenhead is goin' to be goddam important to somebody.
I start thinkin' of Geralda Varney. I hope that dame is all right, but I reckon she i just for the moment anyhow. Panzetti will not start anything with Geralda until he finds out that I am wise to his phoney Whitaker act, after which he is liable to get very nasty with one an' all.
But there is one thing that I cannot quite get. I cannot see how this guy expects to get away with it if he has to bump anybody at all. I reckon that even Panzetti has gotta know that it's goddam difficult to get away with a killin' in England, an' at a time like this, with a war on how the hell does that guy think he is goin' to make a getaway?
But maybe there is an answer to that. England is not so very far from France an' occupied France is in the hands of the Jerries. Maybe Panzetti thought he could get over there. Maybe he's got it all fixed up.
It is ten-thirty when I get into Maidenhead. The moon has come up a bit an' an air-raid siren is soundin' somewhere across country. Maidenhead looks sorta pretty in the moonlight an' I start thinkin' of the time when I was around here last in 1936 when everything was hunky dory an' there was lights reflectin' on the water.
I park the car in some back street an' I meander along to a hotel an' ask if they know where the Melander Club is. They tell me that they heard of some such place but they don't know where it is, so I reckon the Melander Club is just another one of them funny night places that you get around this part, where they sorta keep themselves nice an' quiet without a lot of publicity.
I am just goin' in to some other dump to ask when I get an idea. It is an off-shoot of an old idea I had on this job, but the way things are I think that maybe it is worth tryin'. I ask some guy where the police station is an' ease along there. I see a police sergeant an' show him the police pass I got from Herrick an' ask him if he will do somethin' for me. I tell him that this is a very important bit of business an' that it has to be played the way I want it.
Then I tell him what I want. This shakes him a bit an' he scratches his head an' says it seems a bit irregular but that he supposes my havin' the police pass lets him out so he will play ball.
I say thanks a lot. He then gets through to the local exchange an' asks 'em for the number of the Melander Club. He gets it an' calls through. When somebody comes on the line he says:
"This is the Maidenhead police speaking. Can I talk to Miss Carlette Lariat, please?"
I watch him holdin' on. I am wonderin' whether Carlette will be there an' if she will fall for this line. But after a minute it looks as if it's come off. He says:
"Hello... Miss Lariat? This is the Maidenhead police. There is a gentleman here by the name of Fratti Mr. Giacomo Fratti an American. Mr. Fratti was hurt in a bomb explosion in London yesterday, and he was on his way to the Melander Club to see you but his car has broken down and he can't walk very well. He wanted to know if somebody could come along here and pick him up. You can? Very well. Thank you."
He hangs up an' says that Miss Lariat is comin' along to pick me up.
So it looks as if it's come off!
I say thanks a lot an' that I won't have to trouble him any more. Then I ease outside the police station an' stand just around the corner in the shadow. I take my Luger outa my shoulder holster an' stick it in my side pocket. Then I stick around, light a cigarette an' wait.
I am wonderin' whether Carlette has really fallen for the story. But why shouldn't she? Fratti's dead, an' I'll bet all the tea in China to a coupla last year's eggs that he was in such little pieces that they never could put him together well enough to be able to recognise him.
But Willie Kritsch an' Carlette don't know that he's dead. He was supposed to have got away from that dump at Hampstead before the time bomb went off an' unless Montana Kells has contacted those two an' wised 'em up that I have told her that Fratti is dead then maybe I can get away with this business. But I am takin' a chance. Because if they do know about Fratti I reckon they will scram good an' quick without doin' any investigatin'.
I stamp my feet on the ground to keep the circulation goin'. It is darned cold. I get around to thinkin' that this business of bein' a "G" man is not a very warm trade to be in. The climate is never right. Either you got cold feet standin' about in the middle of the night or else things are so goddam hot that you wish you had a job peelin' snowballs in Iceland.
Somewhere along the street I can hear a car comin'. It slows down when it gets near me an' pulls in an' stops just four or five feet from where I am standin'. The door opens an' Carlette gets out.
The baby is lookin' swell. She is wearin' a big mink coat an' a cute hat. She slams the door an' takes a coupla steps towards the entrance of the Police Station. I ease out nice an' quiet an' just tickle her under the arm with the barrel of the Luger.
"Take it easy, baby," I tell her. "This is Mister Caution of the old firm of Faith Hope an' Charity Unlimited so don't start anything around here, otherwise the cannon is liable to go off, after which I should be able to look right inside you an' see your dear little heart beatin'."
She stops like she has been poleaxed. She says:
"Christ... ain't that a break or is it!"
"You said it, my lambie-pie," I tell her, "an' I also wish to tell you that if you got any of your friends inside that car an' they start anything then I shall start a shootin' match so quick that you would think I was the Italian Navy steamin' back to port after a coupla fish had looked at 'em with an angry expression."
She says a very rude word. Then she says there is not anybody in the car; that she is on her own.
"O.K., sweetheart," I tell her. "Let you an' me get inside an' do a little talkin'."
We get inta the car. She gets in the drivin' seat an' I slip in behind. I close the doors an' put the gun back in my pocket. I light myself a Lucky Strike an' wait for her to start talkin'.
"Jeez... " she says. "You sonofabitch. I fell for that stuff. I thought Pratti had got hurt an' just made it down here. I wondered why the hell that mug hadn't turned up. I s'pose you pinched the guy."
"Nope," I tell her. "The lamented Fratti is no more. The guy got himself blown up instead of me. I got his passport in my pocket."
"Well," she says. "An' what's the next move. Where do we go from here?"
"How's Montana Kells?" I ask her. "I am very interested in the health of that cutie. Is she around?"
She shakes her head.
"I ain't seen her," she says. "An' I don't know a thing about anything."
"That's O.K. by me," I tell her. "So all I got to do is to take you in an' hand you over. I'm sorta sorry because I don't like the idea of these English guys stringin' you up. An' they do it over here, you know. They're tough. This ain't like America. You can't pull anything on these guys. Once they got you you're for it."
"What the hell do you mean?" she says. But I can hear she is scared. "They can't do nothin' to me. I ain't bumped anybody."
"No?" I tell her. "Well, Fratti's dead, ain't he?"
She screws around in the car. I can see her eyes gleamin'.
"So what!" she says. "I suppose you're gonna tell me I croaked Fratti. Why, the goddam fool musta croaked himself. He was carryin' the bomb, wasn't he?"
"Sure," I tell her. "But you don't understand the law over here, Carlette. It's a scream, I'm tellin' you. The law here says that if a bunch of crooks are banded together to do a criminal act an' one of 'em gets killed in doin' it then all the rest of 'em are chargeable with murder. An' that's what they'll do to you, my sweet, an' they'll string you up by the neck an' you'll kick like you was a fan-dancer with hysterics."
"My God!" she says. "This don't sound so good to me. You ain't stringin' me along, are you?"
"Why should I string you along, Carlette?" I tell her. "What the heck does it matter to me? You're the one they're gonna hang."
She don't say anything. She opens up her handbag an' gives herself a cigarette. I snap my lighter an' light it for her. After a bit she says:
"Can't I do a deal over this? Supposin' I do a big squeal. Are you goin' to look after me?"
"Hear me laugh," I tell her. "All you dames are the same. You get caught up with an' then you wanta do a deal. Montana wanted to do a deal too. She put on an act when it suited her an' then tried to throw a fast one into me. Now you're tryin' the same stunt."
"Not me," she says. "I'm scared. This bein' hanged by the neck until you are dead stuff is no good to me."
I shrug my shoulders.
"You won't do yourself any harm by doin' a little talkin'," I say. "Where is that guy Willie Kritsch? The guy who is totin' my identification papers about. An' why did he have to have 'em anyway?"
"He had to have 'em to kid Geralda Varney along," she says. "An' don't ask me why because I don't know. Panzetti knows. You'll haveta ask him. An' I don't know where Willie Kritsch is right now. He was along at the Melander this afternoon an' then a call came through this evenin' an' he scrammed. He said he'd be back tomorrow."
I nod my head. I reckon I know where that call came from.
That would be Zokka telephonin' through to tell Kritsch that I'd arrived at Casino Lodge an' that I'd been plenty tough with him."
"Where's Panzetti?" I ask her.
"Search me," she says. "I haven't seen Carlo since I left New York. But then you know how shy that guy is. Nobody ever sees him... well not so you'd notice it."
