“I’ll talk to Bodine when he comes in,” declared Cardona.
“All right,” was the response. “Make yourself at home.”
The words were spoken with assurance. Crayton knew well that Cardona was not after Bodine. The big shot had been inactive for months, living on tribute and reputation.
“You don’t know where Bodine is?” questioned Cardona.
Crayton appeared puzzled at first; then decided to be frank with Cardona.
“Listen,” he said. “If you’re worrying about him, forget it. He’s out— and when he’s out, nobody knows where he is. I don’t need to tell you that he’s O.K. the minute he walks into the lobby of this hotel. Sometimes he stays out all night, but tonight he’s coming back sure.”
“When?”
“Before midnight. By eleven at the latest.”
“All right. I’ll come back when he gets in.”
Joe Cardona strolled to the door. He noticed one of his men in the hallway, and stopped long enough to have a hurried word with him. The plain-clothes man told him that others were posted on the floor. The star detective went down into the lobby. At eight fifteen he came back.
Arnold Bodine had not been heard from, Crayton informed him. This time Cardona decided to wait. He seated himself in a comfortable chair and refused a highball that was offered him.
It was at that particular moment that Clyde Burke rolled past the Goliath Hotel in a taxicab, bound for the Club DeLuxe. He glanced at the lighted building as he went by and saw a man slouched by the entrance.
One of Cardona’s detectives, Clyde decided.
But there was something he did not see — something that also escaped the vigilant gaze of the man posted there. It was a shadowy form that lurked beside the lighted entrance, scarcely ten feet from where the detective stood.
The Shadow, like Cardona, was awaiting the return of Arnold Bodine!
CHAPTER XI. THE TIP-OFF
Two men sat at a table in a corner of the spacious Club DeLuxe. The popular night club was rarely crowded at nine o’clock on a Wednesday evening. Hence the spot which the men had chosen was well away from observation. No one was within thirty feet of them.
Both men were well dressed. They bore a similarity of appearance. There was one noticeable difference — their expressions. One had a firm face, a steady gaze, and well-chiseled features that gave him a distinctive profile. The other possessed a brutal countenance, sullen and merciless. Facially, there was no resemblance between Cliff Marsland and “Clipper” Tobin.
Cliff replaced his coffee cup on the table. He glanced about him to make sure that no one was near.
Clipper duplicated the action. The closest person was a young man who had taken a table well beyond earshot. Cliff turned toward his companion and put a direct question to the tough-faced gangster.
“Out with it, Clipper,” he said in a low voice. “It’s time I knew the layout for tonight.”
“You’re gettin’ your grand, ain’t you?” came the sullen reply.
“Sure,” said Cliff. “That’s why I want the low-down. If you expect the help you want, you’ve got to shoot straight with me. That’s all.”
“I’m shootin’ straight, Cliff!” retorted Clipper. “‘We ain’t likely to run into no trouble tonight. I’m goin’ to do the job; you’ll be there in case we run into a second guy. We’ve only got to get one gazebo. It don’t take two of us to do that.”
“All right!” said Cliff quietly. “Suppose you go it alone then. I’ll give you back your money.”
Clipper’s eyes sparkled angrily. His vicious glance was met by Cliff Marsland’s firm stare. The tough gangster had met his equal. He realized that he could no longer play pretenses with Cliff Marsland.
“Listen, Cliff,” he said in an appeasing tone, “I’ve told you before that I ain’t the boss. I’m gettin’ paid, like you. The fellow that slipped me the dough figured that only one guy needed to know the lay. I’ve done jobs for him before. This is your first crack. You can’t blame him for bein’ careful.”
“He told you to get a man to work with you,” was the retort. “That much was left up to you. I can’t see why you’re holding out.”
“I ain’t doubtin’ you, Cliff,” appealed Clipper. “I picked you as soon as I heard you was on the loose. I heard about you from guys that knew you up in the big house when you was doin’ a stretch a few years back. You did some good bumpin’ off after that, too, they told me.”
Cliff smiled to himself. He knew that his reputation in gangdom was intact. What Clipper Tobin had said was true. Cliff had served a term in Sing Sing for a crime which he did not commit. After that he had fought among racketeers, but he had been on the side of gangland’s most feared avenger — The Shadow.
This was unknown to Clipper.
Cliff remained silent while his mind flashed back through the past. Out of the corner of his eye he was noting the man at the other table. Clipper observed his companion’s silence, but misconstrued it. He decided that Cliff was becoming lukewarm.
“Listen, Cliff,” he said, “the guy that hired us doesn’t know you. You’re right when you said he left it up to me. I didn’t tell him your name any more than I told you his. I just said that I had found a killer — to leave the rest to me. He took my word for it; but he said for me to use my noodle, and to do the job without much chatter.
“At the same time, you’re goin’ to wise up pretty quick to what we’re doin’. We ain’t goin’ to lose no time after we get outa this joint. So I’ll play the game an’ tip you off right now. That is, if you’re satisfied with what you’re gettin’. I am. Is that enough for you?”
Cliff laughed.
“Say, Clipper,” was his response, “I’d have gone along with you for half of what I’m getting. I’ve got dough. One grand isn’t a lot of cash. But what’s a killing? I’ve seen plenty of times when I’d handle one for the fun of it.”
A sordid grin came over Clipper Tobin’s ugly face. This was the sort of talk he liked to hear.
“I told you we’re safe on this,” he declared.
“I took your word for it, Clipper.”
“You’re goin’ through with the job O.K.?”
“Just as I’ve intended from the start.”
Clipper saw no double meaning in Cliff’s last remark. He leaned over the table and fairly hissed his next words.
“All right, Cliff,” he said. “I’m wisin’ you up. The mug we’re goin’ to bump is Arnold Bodine!”
CLIFF MARSLAND evidenced no surprise other than a steady stare that caused the grin to spread on Clipper’s face. They formed an odd pair; Cliff, unmoved by Clipper’s startling statement; Clipper with the triumphant look of a man who has delivered a bombshell.
“Is that all?” asked Cliff.
Clipper stared back in surprise.
“You ain’t kiddin’ are you?” he questioned.
“Certainly not!” was the retort. “Bodine’s a has-been.”
“He’s still gettin’ his.”
“Well, he’ll get it in a different way tonight.”
Again Clipper Tobin was pleased by his companion’s attitude. Still, he could not help but think that Cliff was minimizing the danger.
“You know where Bodine hangs out, don’t you?” asked Clipper.
“Sure,” was Cliff’s reply. “At the Goliath Hotel.”
“You know how many bodyguards he’s got, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard he has five.”
“You heard right. I guess that makes you wonder, don’t it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I figured right away that you’ve got some way of sliding around them. Otherwise it would take more than two of us to do the job.”