‘Could you deliver this yourself tonight?’
He squinted at the address.
‘Why, sure, Mr. Manson. That’s not too far from my home, but I won’t be off duty until two.’
‘That’s okay. Look, Charlie, this is top secret. It’s to do with the magazine. Don’t carry it in your hand. Put it inside your jacket. Understand?’
His eyes popped again, but he nodded.
‘Let’s see you do it.’
He unbuttoned his grey uniform jacket and pushed the envelope inside.
‘Fine. Keep it like that until you see Mr. Berry.’ I gave him a fifty-dollar bill. Then I picked up the small bar of lead. ‘Can I have this?’
‘Why, sure, Mr. Manson.’
I put the lead bar in the empty carton to give it weight, then I put the carton in my briefcase.
‘Okay, Charlie... I’m relying on you.’
‘You can, Mr. Manson. This envelope...’ He tapped his chest, ‘will be with Mr. Berry by half past two.’
I went up the stairs and back into the call booth. I called Max. He answered after a delay and he sounded sleepy.
‘Max! This is Steve! A messenger from my bank is bringing you a sealed envelope. The contents are dynamite. Two people have been killed because of it and I think Wally got beaten up because of it. Hide it somewhere in your place where it can’t be found.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Max now sounded very much awake. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t tell you. Don’t look at it. The messenger will be arriving around two-thirty. Stay with it until I telephone you tomorrow from the office.’
‘Okay, Steve.’
Before leaving the booth, I eased the gun in its holster and satisfied myself it would come out fast, then holding the briefcase firmly under my arm, I walked out into the night.
Moving fast down the street, I looked anxiously for a cab, but this time I had no luck.
More than any time before, I felt someone breathing down my neck. I kept looking over my shoulder. At this time of the night the down town section of the city was almost deserted.
Then it happened.
I didn’t even see them.
I felt the briefcase jerk away from under my arm and I received a stunning, chopping blow at the back of my neck.
I was still on my hands and knees, trying to clear my head when I heard a car start up and drive away.
9
As the cab drove me to the Imperial hotel, I nursed my aching neck with both hands and reviewed the situation.
When Webber’s men realised I had sold them a dummy — and it wouldn’t take long — they would come after me. I realised that I was out of their class, so I needed police protection. I had it without asking for it! As soon as Taylor and O’Hara picked me up they would stay with me, and I had no intention now of losing them. With them watching me, Webber’s men wouldn’t risk moving in on me.
Still unsteady on my legs, I paid off the cabby and walked to where I had left my car. I saw the blue Mustang was parked five bays from mine. Taylor was sitting at the wheel. There was no sign of O’Hara.
I got in my car and drove to my apartment. From time to time I checked my driving mirror. The Mustang was following. I drove into the underground garage, then took the elevator to my apartment.
As the cage arrived at my floor, I took out the gun and held it down by my side. I couldn’t be sure Webber’s men had found out they had no film and had already arrived.
I stepped from the cage onto the corridor, looked to right and left, saw nothing to alarm me, stepped across to my front door, unlocked it, moved into the lobby, shut the door and switched on the light. I then pushed open the living room door, stood back as I reached for the light switch and snapped it up. No one there. I paused to lock the front door and shoot the bolt, then moving carefully, I explored the apartment. They hadn’t arrived.
For the moment I was safe. Short of battering down the door, no one could get in.
I put the gun on the table and crossed over to the liquor cabinet. I poured myself a stiff shot of whisky and dropped into a lounging chair.
I thought about what had happened. The question that baffled me was why Webber was involved. Until Brenner had alerted me, I had no reason to suspect that Webber’s men were shadowing me. How long had they been doing this? My mind shifted to Creeden. He had enough money to hire Webber. If his wife was on the film, then he would need help and Webber would be the man to hire.
I finished my drink, set down the glass and got to my feet.
I was sure the key to all this was on the film that Max had, but did he have it? Had Webber guessed what I had done and had sent his men after Charlie?
I dialled Max’s number.
The time now was 03.15.
There was a long delay, then Max mumbled, ‘Who the hell is this?’
‘Steve. Did you get it? Answer yes or no... nothing else.’
‘For the sake of Judas! Yes!’
I hung up.
I went into the lonely bedroom, stripped off my clothes and flopped on the bed. My neck was aching, my body limp and exhausted. I lay like that, my mind churning, until finally sleep came.
The following morning, with the Mustang following me, I drove to my office. I felt secure with these two cops tailing me. They would give Webber’s men no room to manoeuvre.
Judy greeted me with a smile.
‘Jean says she’ll be in after lunch, Mr. Manson. She still sounds pretty bad. Miss Shelley is here and waiting.’
‘Thanks, Judy.’
I dealt with the mail, then when Miss Shelley, a dumpy, serious-looking girl who dwelt behind enormous glasses, had gone into Jean’s office to type, I called Freddie Dunmore.
‘Freddie... I didn’t make it last night. I want that projector. Will you send it over?’
‘Sure, Steve.’
‘Wrap it. I don’t want anyone here to know it’s a projector.’
A pause, then he said, ‘James Bond stuff, huh?’
‘That’s the idea. Make a parcel of it and get it over here fast.’
‘Will and can do,’ and he hung up.
I then called Max Berry.
‘Bring that envelope over right away, Max. Put it under your jacket. As I told you, it’s dynamite.’
‘Okay, Steve. I’m on my way.’
There was nothing else I could do now but to hope. Although I hadn’t the time to spare, I told Judy to call Jean for me.
While I was wrestling with a heap of mail, the call came through.
‘Jean! How do you feel?’
‘I’m all right. I told Judy to tell you I’ll be in after lunch. I’m still a bit queasy, but I’ll survive.’
‘Don’t come in unless you’re really fit.’
‘I’m coming in.’
I couldn’t resist it.
‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be in,’ and the line went dead.
My old man had told me to hang on. I wasn’t getting any encouragement, but I loved her, I wanted her, I needed her, so I was going to hang on.
I settled down to read Rafferty’s film column that had come in the mail. I was only half concentrating. Suddenly, I got up, went to the window and looked down on the street. This time it was O’Hara who was propping up the fire hydrant. The sight of him was reassuring. As long as he was there I couldn’t imagine Webber’s men visiting me. Taylor was probably covering the lobby.
The intercom buzzed.
‘There’s a parcel for you, Mr. Manson,’ Judy told me. ‘Shall I bring it in?’
‘Thanks.’
It was the projector, carefully wrapped. A note from Freddie saying he enclosed the instruction book and if I was in trouble to call him.
I put the projector in a closet and finished the Rafferty article. I okayed it and tossed it in my out-tray. As I was starting to read a short story submitted by one of my agents, Max Berry came in.