Ruzzoni rose to his feet, his face flushing dangerously.
“What kind of a gag is this?” he demanded harshly. “If you think you—” Colegrave raised one slim hand protestingly.
“You are in trouble, are you not?” he asked quietly. “I think you are very stupid not to investigate any means which might help you.”
“I don’t believe in boy scouts,” Ruzzoni sneered. “Nobody’s goin’ to help me!”
“Maybe,” Colegrave said, blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, “and maybe not. I am not a boy scout. What I can do for you will be very expensive.
And nothing is too hot for me.” Ruzzoni settled back in his chair, a puzzled frown on his swarthy features.
“I’m listening,” he said perkily. “But I ain’t talking, see? I ain’t dumb enough to fall into that kind of a trap.”
“In the first place,” Colegrave said cheerfully. “As things stand you are slated for a long trip to prison, and possibly a detour to the chair if things turn up which shouldn’t turn up.” Ruzzoni swallowed painfully and a band of beaded perspiration circled his brow.
“The district attorney and the mayor,” Colegrave went on, “are after you, Ruzzoni, and they’ve got the goods on you. You’ve been running the organized graft and gambling in this town for eight years, and they figure that’s about long enough. If they get an indictment against you, you’re heading for the chair. When one witness spills his story, it’ll start them all talking.
“The only possible out for you is to eliminate the mayor and the district attorney in such a way that no suspicion falls on you. Then, in the chaos that will result, you can move some men you control on the judicial benches into the offices of the mayor and district attorney. It will be a simple matter then to squash the indictment. Don’t you agree that it’s a sensible plan?”
“It’s lovely,” Ruzzoni snapped bitterly. “But who’s goin’ to commit suicide by trying to rub out the mayor and D.A.? Even if he did get ’em, he wouldn’t have a chance to get away. I’ve offered my own boys as high as fifty grand, but they won’t touch it. The bunch of yellow rats!”
“I’ll handle that end of things,” Colegrave said softly. “But it’s going to cost you exactly one million dollars.”
“You’re crazy,” Ruzzoni cried. “There ain’t that much money in this whole town!”
Colegrave stood up.
“I’m not here to haggle,” he said coldly. “A million — in cash. I’ll collect after I do the job.”
“After you do the job?” Ruzzoni said craftily. “Well that’s a little different. I think we can make a deal.”
“Don’t bank on my not being here to collect it,” Colegrave said mirthlessly. “I have a habit of keeping dates. I’ll meet you here the day after his honor and the district attorney keep their date with the gentleman with the scythe. Is that agreeable with you?”
Ruzzoni licked his lips.
“Yeah, it’s okay by me.”
“Fine,” Colegrave said smoothly. “I’ve drawn up something in the nature of a contract for you to sign. Just a little precaution in case you forget our little deal after I do the job. I wouldn’t like you to be troubled with amnesia when I come around to collect. An incriminating paper in my possession would prevent anything like that.”
“I ain’t signing nothin’,” Ruzzoni snarled. “How do I know you’re on the level?”
“You don’t,” Colegrave said quietly. “It’s a chance you’re going to take. Of course, if you prefer not to take that chance—”
He shrugged his shoulders and started for the door.
“Wait!” Ruzzoni cried. “I–I’ll string along.”
Colegrave smiled and pulled a paper from his breast pocket.
“Just sign this, please...”
Three days later Theodore Colegrave paused before the imposing edifice of the city hall, glanced casually up and down the street, before turning to the small, grim looking man who was with him.
“Quite sure of things, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
The little man — the physical manifestation of Colegrave’s duality — nodded.
“The mayor and the district attorney are together now examining witnessess for the Ruzzoni hearing. I get into the office with my fake message and plug ’em both. Then I either get shot or captured on the spot. Right?”
“Right,” Colegrave said. “And be sure and not miss. There’s a million dollars hanging on the accuracy of your shots.”
“I won’t miss,” Colegrave’s secondary nature promised. “This is the kind of thing I enjoy doing.”
“Then get going, Colegrave. And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Colegrave turned and, without a backward glance, strolled off down the street. A block from the city hall he increased his pace until he had covered a half mile. Then he turned into a restaurant and ordered a glass of wine.
“And bring me the next edition of the afternoon paper,” he told the waiter who took his order.
As he sipped his wine he went over his scheme step by step and could find no flaws. It was a masterful plan, he was forced to admit. His secondary self would commit the assassination and receive the penalty. Thus he, Colegrave, would be rid of his schizophrenic double, and, at the same time, he would be earning a million cool dollars from the vice lord, Ruzzoni. And that would be only the start. With a million dollars in his power, and forever rid of his dual nature, there were no heights to which he might not aspire.
He had no compunction about the fact that his subconscious double would be eliminated forever. Just as his secondary nature had no qualms about sacrificing his physical life.
It was the really choice part of his plan. The two natures acting independently to advance the single unit. No possible suspicion could ever fall on him for his part in the crime; The double murder would be attributed to a crazed madman, and after the assassin was killed, the affair would be forgotten.
Colegrave drank his wine with relish and ordered another glass. He was a brilliant man, there was no doubt of that.
Forty five minutes later, the waiter came rushing to his table with a copy of a paper on which the ink was still damp.
“Will yuh look at that?” he cried, spreading the paper on Colegrave’s table. The headline read:
“Terrible, isn’t it?” Colegrave murmured.
Then he finished his drink, picked up his change and sauntered out of the restaurant.
The next morning Ruzzoni paid off.
If there was any thought of a double-cross in his mind, it was dispelled when Colegrave informed him that the incriminating contract was locked in a safety deposit vault, with instructions to disclose the contents if he should meet with any violent accident.
“I’m paying off,” he said grinning. “It’s worth it to me, in the first place, and I can’t get out of it in the second place. With the mayor and the D.A. out of the way, that indictment is a thing of the past. I’m in the clear and in the saddle from now on in.”
“One thing you can do for me,” Colegrave said as he was leaving. “Arrange it for me to see this fellow that did the job for me.”
“I’ve been wondering about him,” Ruzzoni said softly, “What’s to prevent him from singing? He must’ve been an awful chump to take the chance he did, but still he might be bright enough to start popping off what he knows.”
“That’s just it,” Colegrave smiled. “He doesn’t know anything at all. Even if he did I doubt if he’d talk.”
“It’s your neck if he does,” Ruzzoni said. “I’ll arrange for you to see him. They’ll rush through his trial, but I’ll get you an interview with him the day of the frying party. It shouldn’t be more than a few weeks off.”