‘Sure. I’ve talked with Jean. She thinks she’ll be in tomorrow. Thanks for all you’ve done, Judy.’
She looked happy.
‘Have you nearly finished, Mr. Manson?’
I had still some printers’ proofs to go through.
‘About an hour.’ I got up and locked the office door after her, then I went back to my desk and got down to work again.
It was after 19.00 before I had finished. I called Freddie Dunmore at the photographic studio.
‘You just caught me, Steve,’ he said. ‘I’m in a rush. My wife’s throwing a goddamn party and I swore by my back teeth I’d be there on time. What’s cooking?’
‘I want the use of a 16 mm projector, Freddie.’
‘No problem. I’ll have it sent over to you tomorrow morning. How’s that?’
‘I want it tonight.’
He groaned.
‘Well, okay. I’ll leave it with...’
‘I also want to borrow your projection room tonight,’ I broke in.
The magazine account with Dunmore was substantial. He was in no position to refuse me.
‘God help me! Okay. I’ll call Betty... she’ll kill me.’
‘Can’t you leave the key somewhere? I could be late. I’ll run off the film, lock up and return the key. How’s that?’
‘Can you handle a projector?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Well, okay. For Pete’s sake, don’t forget to lock up. There’s a lot of expensive equipment here I wouldn’t want to lose.’
‘Where do I find the key?’
‘On the ledge above the door. It’s my spare. God! I’m already twenty minutes late! See you, Steve,’ and he hung up.
Now I had to lose those two cops. Remembering Brenner’s warning, I decided not to rush it. I had most of the night ahead of me.
As I started to the door, I paused. Two people had been killed because of the film I was going to collect. I could make a third. I went to the closet and got out the gun that Max Berry hadn’t taken away. I loaded it, put on the holster, adjusted my jacket, and turned off the lights. I locked up the office, then carrying my briefcase, I took the elevator to the lobby.
A short, thickset man with red hair, wearing a dark blue hat was examining the indicator board. He didn’t look in my direction. He was a pro all right. Even when I paused on the street and glanced back, he was still examining the board.
I got in my car and edged into the traffic. Three minutes later, I spotted the blue Mustang, two cars behind me. It was easy when you knew who and what to look for.
I drove to the Imperial hotel and went into the grill room. Henri, the Captain of waiters, knew me well and welcomed me. I asked for a corner table and sat with my back to the wall, facing the entrance. I ordered the special, then lit a cigarette and toyed with a dry martini while I waited.
After some minutes, Taylor came to the entrance, glanced around, his eyes seeming not to notice me, then he moved back into the lounge.
Henri served me and as trade was quiet, he stood around, saying nice things about the magazine. I was glad to have him. Once again Taylor looked in as if he were expecting a guest, then moved out of sight.
‘Henri,’ I said, when I had finished the meal, ‘I’m on an assignment this evening for the mag. It’s something red hot. A couple of newsmen from the Sun are tailing me, hoping to get a lead.’ I took a ten spot from my hip pocket and slid it to him. ‘Is there a way out the back?’
He loved this. His eyes sparkled.
‘Through the service door, Mr. Manson, straight ahead, down some steps and the door facing you. It’s bolted but not locked. It takes you onto Granby Street.’
‘Take a look in the lounge. There are two of them: one tall, dark with a crew cut and the other short, red hair. If they look busy, rub the back of your neck.’
‘Sure, Mr. Manson.’
The service door was two yards from me. I pushed back my chair, my heart thumping and watched Henri wander to the entrance. He paused, holding a sheaf of menus as if looking for clients, then he rubbed the back of his neck.
I was out of my chair, through the service door where I nearly cannoned into a waiter, carrying a loaded tray, and down the stairs, eased back the bolt and was in the hot night air.
I had all the luck in the world. An empty cab cruised towards me. I bundled in and told the cabby to take me fast to the Plaza movie house which was within easy range of my bank.
I sat back, breathing heavily. At the end of the narrow street, I looked through the rear window, but the street was deserted. I felt pretty sure I had shaken them off.
Now for the film.
The clerk at the reception desk gave me a smile of welcome as I crossed the lobby.
‘Hello there, Mr. Manson. Do you want something from your safe?’
‘That’s right. Can I go down?’
‘Sure. Charlie is down there. He’ll take care of you.’ As I started for the stairs, leading to the vault, he said, ‘Oh, Mr. Manson. I nearly forgot. I have a telephone message for you.’
I stared at him.
‘For me?’
‘Came in half an hour ago.’ He handed me a slip of paper.
Urgent. Call Western 00798
‘If you want to call now, Mr. Manson, there’s a booth over to your right.’
I went to the booth, put in coins, dialled and waited.
Brenner’s voice came on the line. He said: ‘Who’s that?’
‘Manson. What is it?’
‘This evening Taylor reported to Goldstein that you are being tailed by two of Webber’s men. They are smart operators, but Taylor spotted them. Have you any idea why they are tailing you?’
This information so shocked me, I was unable to think. I felt that chill again.
‘Manson?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘So you have four pros on your tail. You’d better watch it. Looks like you’re in real trouble.’
I pulled myself together and forced my mind to work.
‘Can you give me a description of them?’
‘Sure. I worked with them before they quit to hook up with Webber. Meyer is big, around forty-five, has a broad white scar on his left cheek he got when arresting a junkie. Freeman is big, around fifty and he limps. He had a car smash.’
Had these two men followed me to the bank? Why were they following me... the film? I felt horribly alone as I stood, sweating in the airless booth.
‘You got the film yet?’ Brenner asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Well, watch it,’ and he hung up.
I leaned against the wall of the booth and thought. I was sure I had shaken off Taylor and O’Hara, but I had no idea if I had shaken off Webber’s men. This was no time to take chances. I certainly wasn’t going on the streets, carrying that film. But what to do? After a few moments, an idea occurred to me. Leaving the booth, I went down to the vault.
Charlie, fat and elderly and always ready to oblige, got to his feet as I crossed the floor.
‘You’re late, Mr. Manson.’
‘Yes. I want to open my safe.’
He went with me, turned the first lock with his passkey, then moved away while I opened the second lock with my key. I took out the carton of film.
‘Charlie... have you a big envelope to take this?’ I showed him the carton.
‘Sure... right here.’ He produced an envelope. I took the film cassette out of its carton and put it in the envelope and sealed it. A bit of flat lead which Charlie probably used as a paperweight caught my eye.
‘Want to earn fifty dollars, Charlie?’
His eyes popped open.
‘Try me and see, Mr. Manson.’
I scribbled Max Berry’s address on the envelope.