It was Big Step’s watcher, Martino. I put my foot under him and flipped him over. Whoever had placed the knife into him had done the neatest, most professional job I had ever seen. It had been expertly thrust and Martino had been dead without ever knowing it. A few glassy-eyed steps maybe, but that was all. It was the kind of thrust and tear wound only a trained expert like Manos Dekker could deliver.
When I looked around the place I saw the similarity of pattern there. It was like the back of Tarbush’s Coffee Shop, every available hiding place being torn apart in the search, nothing missed.
And nothing found, either. The shakedown had started at one side and gone to the other, winding up at the door beside the upturned table. I grinned to myself because I knew it wasn’t too late yet. That capsule was still hidden somewhere. Manos Dekker might know where ordinary people would stash a hot item, but he wasn’t dealing with ordinary people. He was up against a hop-head guarding his most valued treasure, his security against slow death.
I stood in the middle of the room and peered through the semi-darkness, objects beginning to become apparent. Dekker had done most of the work for me already. It didn’t take much more. There was hardly an item that hadn’t been ripped or smashed, taken apart minutely in the futile search.
There wasn’t much to it really. Too many addicts used the same gimmick, each thinking they had pulled an original trick. I picked up the cheap ceramic lamp whose hollow base had been smashed open, knocked the dented shade off and looked at the bulb. It was unbroken, but not screwed all the way down. I gave it a couple of turns and it came out in my hand. The capsule so many people had died for was there inside the socket. I dumped it out and held it in my hand.
Behind me Big Step said, “Don’t move, Ryan. Not one move or you have a hole in you big enough to throw a cat through. Lay that rod on the table. Easy.”
And now it was over. All the way. The muscles under my skin were bunched and jumping and I knew there wasn’t any use trying for the long shot. All I could do was stay alive as long as I could. I let the capsule dribble between my fingers unseen and heard it roll on the floor. Very elaborately, careful to let him see how I was doing it, I laid the .45 on the table and turned around.
Big Step wasn’t alone. Ernie South was right next to him with a gun in his hand too and the smile he wore said I was ripe for dying any second. Step bumped Ernie with his elbow. “Close those curtains on the window.”
Ernie nodded, walked around me and yanked the cord on the Venetian blinds, then pulled the drapes over them. The dust came out in a small cloud and I thought for a second I might be able to move in the almost total darkness. But Step thought of it too and flipped the light switch on before I had the chance.
“I knew you’d come back, Irish. I knew you’d sucker yourself right into my hands.”
“So I’m a jerk.”
“A big one. We were waiting upstairs.” He grinned at me slowly, his hate filled eyes black with a wild passion. “Killing Fly was stupid, Irish. You think you could tie us into it by letting him stay at Tarbush’s? Ernie and me, we got him back here and when you put a shiv in old Martino you even did us a favor. So the cops make it out like Fly stuck him and he had a chance to break the creep’s neck before he died.”
“Where’s the knife, Step?” I asked casually.
“Come off it, punk. Who cares? We’ll put another one in the hole.” He moved away from the door and sat back on the arm of the old wooden chair by the wall. “So you catch Fly raiding Ernie’s warehouse. You figure he got more tucked away here and come looking for it, only you gotta kill Martino first.” He gave a slow glance around the room, then back to me. “Fly did a damn good job of hiding it, but if Ernie has to tear this place apart board by board, he’ll find it. That’s just too much loot to throw away. And me, I got what I want, Irish, I got you.”
Ernie said, “He stashed those packets of H, Step. Don’t you bump him until he talks.” He looked at me, teeth bared with anger. “Or do you want to make it easy on yourself.”
I shrugged, watching them both for any opening at all. “I don’t have your junk.”
“Suit yourself, buddy,” Ernie said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.” He got up and walked around behind me. I just started to swing when the butt of his gun smashed into my skull with a crack I barely heard before all sight and sound disappeared into a maelstrom of ink and I felt myself falling from a great height.
How long it was, I couldn’t tell. I came to with a rush of sudden pain that swept down from the top of my head and invaded my whole body. My hands and legs were behind me and when I made a spasmodic move there was a tug at my neck and a cord tightened there almost shutting off my breath.
Big Step still sat there, smiling pleasantly, enjoying the scene. “The Capone loop, Irish. Every move makes it tighter. Soon you’ll get a cramp and you’ll be able to feel yourself die inches at a time.”
“Where is it, Irish?” Ernie South asked me.
I let out a strangled sound and shook my head. What a damn fool I was! Big Step was right when he called me a sucker. I try it alone and blow the whole bit including myself. A woman I wanted and a whole world might die because I was a damn idiot. All I had to do was make a phone call.
Big Step got up, pulled the chair around so he could watch me and sat down in it, his legs stretched out in front of him. “Take it slow, Irish. This is for Penny and Little Step. My brothers.” A look of pain crossed his face. “They was kids, Irish. You got them both dead. However the hell you worked it, I don’t know, but you got them dead and you’re paying.” He glanced over at Ernie and said, “If he goes out loosen up that cord and start him over again. We got plenty of time.”
Ernie nodded agreeably. “He’ll start talking a couple times around.”
“Sure be will, won’t you, Irish? You’ll tell Ernie what you did with his stuff then I’ll kill you quick for killing Penny and Little Step.”
The voice from the door said, “He didn’t kill Penny, Step.” I couldn’t move an inch except for my eyes. Ernie and Big Step both make quick moves toward their belts, but stopped halfway there. Leaning up against the door jamb with a flat black automatic in her hand was Lisa Williams and she was gassed to the ears, a drunken smirk twisting her mouth in a crazy smile, her eyes glassy, her hair in wet strings down her head. The broken nose, the scars on her face stood out lividly, giving her a frightening appearance.
Both Ernie and Big Step looked at each other, not wanting to take a chance with a drunk with a gun, but it was Big Step who spoke first, just trying to make enough conversation to get her off guard. “What you say, Lisa?”
“Irish didn’t kill your brother, Step, but I’m going to kill you. I promised myself that a long time ago, and now I’m going to do it.” She eyed the two bodies on the floor, looked briefly at me and her lips pulled into a taut snarl. “You had to kill Fly and him and now you want to kill Irish too. You damn louse.”
“Look you drunken bum...”
“You didn’t have to kill Fly, Step.”
He half rose from the chair. “Put that rod away, Lisa. This punk here bumped Fly. You think I...”
“Sit down, Step.” She pointed the gun at his middle, but still keeping Ernie in view. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I can see for myself. I know things like I know who killed Penny.”
Big Step scowled, seemed to crouch in the chair. “Who, Lisa?”
“Ernie South here.” She looked across the room at him and gave a silly laugh.
Big Step’s frown deepened and he turned to stare at Ernie. “What the hell’s she talking about?”
I could see Ernie, too. He was sweating. “She’s drunk,” he blurted.