One of the guns was an automatic. From where I stood it could have been a Colt Commander .38. I wasn’t sure. But there was no mistaking the big fist that held it. That belonged to Hardman. The other gun, a revolver, was in the hand of Philip Price and he seemed to know what he was doing. We let the door close behind us.
“Roof garden’s done closed,” Hardman said. “For the season.”
Padillo looked at me. “Your friend,” he said.
“He was on our side this morning.”
We were standing in the small landing that faced the stairs which led to the roof. Hardman and Price were up five or six steps, aiming their guns at us in a calm, professional manner. Their advantage of height didn’t hurt any.
“Just stand easy,” Price said. “Keep your hands in front of you and don’t ask if you can light a cigarette.”
“I don’t get it, Hardman,” I said.
“Money, baby. Fifty thousand is a lot of money.”
“We decided to consolidate,” Price said. “In return for our complete cooperation, your African friends agreed to raise the fee. Enormously.”
“They went way up,” Hardman said. “I just couldn’t say no.” He sounded almost apologetic.
Price glanced at his watch. “It shouldn’t be long now.”
“That little brunette gal with the pistol was supposed to hold you, Mac,” Hardman said. “What happened?”
“I killed her.”
He nodded. “That’s more for us,” he said to Price.
“So it is,” Price said.
“Your wife all right?” Hardman said.
“She’s all right.”
“I like Fredl,” Hardman said. “Didn’t want nothin to happen to her.”
“It didn’t.”
“What happened to you, Price?” Padillo said. “I thought you were going for the letter.”
“I don’t need the letter,” he said.
“Just money.”
Price smiled. “There seems to be enough for all.”
Padillo turned slowly and leaned against the wall. He kept his hands in sight. “Your friend Hardman ever try to beat a murder rap?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” I said.
“How about it, Hardman?” Padillo said.
“We’re comin out of this one nice and clean. Ain’t gonna be no mess.”
“Then you fixed it with Mush?” Padillo said.
“Mush works for me, baby.”
Padillo turned his head to look at Hardman. “What did you send Mush up to Baltimore for? Heroin?”
“I don’t fool with H. Mush was goin after acid. Five hundred grams of lysergic acid diethylamide.”
“That’s a lot of LSD,” Padillo said. “What’s the market? I thought you could mix up a batch in the bathroom sink.”
“Gettin tough, baby. Feds are crackin down and so’s the states. That much acid is good for a little less’n five million trips at five bucks per retail. I figure to wholesale it at thirty cents a trip.”
“The Englishman was supposed to have it?”
“He supposed to.”
“But they shoved him into the freezer. You think the acid went with him?”
“I don’t know, baby.”
“Let me ask you something else, Hardman. How did Mush know who I was?”
“Didn’t. He just found Mac’s address in your pocket.”
“You’re talking too much, Padillo,” Price said.
“You’re in the business, Price. Do you think I’d carry a piece of paper around in my pocket with an address on it?”
“Not bloody likely. But shut up anyway.”
“If I didn’t have any address in my pocket, Hardman, then how did Mush know about McCorkle and me?”
“You ain’t makin sense,” Hardman said.
“You’re smarter than that, Hardman,” I said. “Even I can figure it out.”
“How long’s Mush been workin for you?” Padillo said.
The big man took one step down the stairs. “You sayin Mush is a ringer?”
“You didn’t get your acid, did you?” Padillo said. “You got me instead. Why?”
“Mush get my acid?”
“Shut up,” Price said. “We’re going to have to leave here in a few minutes. You can worry about it then.”
“Man’s talking about maybe a million dollars’ worth of acid — wholesale,” Hardman said. “I wanna know what happened. I gotta find out. Mush get my acid?” he demanded of Padillo.
“No,” Padillo said.
“Who got it?”
“The United States Treasury.”
Twenty-Six
The door from the hall slammed open and Mush came through it, moving fast. Padillo seemed to have expected him because he lunged for the steps and jerked Price’s legs out from under him. Hardman kicked at Mush’s head, but missed, and Mush scrambled on up the stairs. I grabbed Hardman’s other leg and gave it a yank and he fell backwards and the gun clattered down the steps. Price was up and moving quickly up towards the roof, Padillo behind him. Hard-man wasn’t down for more than a second. He moved too fast for a man of his size. I couldn’t move like that and Hardman carried fifteen more pounds than I did.
I was still at the bottom of the stairs and Hardman was on the sixth step. He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. Price and Padillo disappeared around a corner at the top of the stairs. Mush was no longer in sight.
“You ain’t goin nowheres, Mac. You stayin here with me.”
“I’m going up the stairs,” I said.
“You ain’t goin by me.”
“You’re still clean on this one, Hardman. You can move out. I’ll let you by.”
He laughed. “You a gentleman, ain’t you? You gonna let me by. Shit, you somethin, baby.”
“Go on, Hardman. You’ve got time.”
“I ain’t goin nowheres and you ain’t goin nowheres.”
“I’m going up the stairs,” I said.
“Not past me.”
I reached into my coat pockets and took out the knife with my left hand and the .38 with my right. “You’re wrong about two things. One, I’m no gentleman. If I were a gentleman, I’d try to take you with the knife. Now the gun says I go past you.” I pointed it in his general direction.
“No gun, Mac. Gun’ll bring the law.”
“This place is soundproofed,” I said. “It keeps the band noise down.”
“You won’t shoot me,” he said.
“You talk a lot.”
Hardman started down the steps towards me. He held the knife in his right hand, his arm up and out a little. The blade was flat with the floor, the easier to pass through the ribs, I suppose. He came down two full steps. “Gimme your gun, Mac.”
I shook my head. “Go on out the door and you’re home free.”
“You ain’t gonna shoot, Mac.” He took one more step. He moved slowly, but with curious grace.
“I’m going past you, Hardman.”
“No,” he said. He grinned. He took another step and he was still grinning when I shot him. Then the grin disappeared, and he tried one more step. I shot him again. He said, “Shit, man,” and fell the last step and sprawled in the corner and lay still.
I went up the stairs three at a time. Padillo and Price were in the anteroom that led to the roof. Price was in front of the stall where you checked your coats. He had lost his gun on the stairs, but he had a knife out. It seemed to be the day for knives. Padillo’s back was to me as Price moved towards him slowly. Price kept his eyes on Padillo’s right hand which also had a knife in it.
“If you move over, I’ll shoot him,” I said.
“I’ll drop flat on the floor, and then you can shoot him,” Padillo said.
I pointed the gun at Price. “When he drops flat on the floor, I’ll shoot you,” I told him. “I’ve got four rounds left. I should be able to hit you with one.”