The cab drew up at a ramshackle house somewhere in Bay Ridge. Hymie and Mike escorted us up to the porch as the cab drove away. As we entered the house I shot a swift glance at Sackler, asking with my eyes if he’d figured anything. He gave no response. I entered the house with the reluctant step of a man walking the plank.
We sat in a living-room furnished in the early Garfield manner. A flight of stairs ran down into the room from the other story. A small hall led to the rear into, I supposed, a kitchen. Mike held his gun on us while Hymie went through our pockets. He appropriated my automatic and tossed it clatteringly onto the imitation marble mantelpiece. Sackler still stared into space as if he were about to conjure up a legion of angels to rescue us. I licked my dry lips and wondered somewhat hysterically why it was that fear freezes the salivary glands.
I said in a voice that I fought to keep steady: “How about a glass of water?”
Mike nodded at Hymie. “Take him in the kitchen and give him one. If there’s any of that rye left bring me out a slug.”
Hymie tapped me on the shoulder with a thirty-eight. I rose and preceded him into the kitchen. I helped myself to a glass of water at the sink. Hymie picked up a bottle of cheap rye which held about four ounces of whiskey and drained it. Then he drank a glass of water. We marched back into the livingroom.
Hymie met Mike’s eye. “Not a drop,” he said. “The bottle was empty.”
Mike frowned. “That’s damned funny. I—” Then Sackler came to vocal life for the first time since we had left the office, and interrupted him.
“Look,” he said abruptly. “What are you guys going to do with us?”
“Well,” said Mike, “I ain’t got the final orders yet. But I can give you a pretty good idea.”
For that matter, I thought hopelessly, so can I.
“With you,” went on Mike, “I guess we ain’t going to do nothing. We got no orders about you. I just brought you along so you wouldn’t have the coppers on our tail right away. I guess after we’ve done what we’re going to do we’ll just let you go.”
Sackler nodded. His air of preoccupied worry remained with him despite Mike’s information. He said: “What about Joey, here?”
“Well,” said Hymie slowly, “he knows too much. You know how it is in cases like that.”
“I know,” said Sackler, “but just what are your plans?”
“We’ll take him for a little ride,” said Mike. “But he don’t have to worry. Bang, bang. He’ll never know what happened to him, see?”
Well, that was just lovely. Bang, bang, and I’d never know what happened to me, see? I felt a strong urge to charge in with both fists flying and at least go out on my feet. I restrained myself. On several occasions I’d seen Sackler pull a miracle out of a hat. I was praying he hadn’t lost his touch.
Sackler bit his lip, knitted his brow. There was an expression on his face approaching anguish.
“Look,” he said, “listen to reason. You can’t knock off Joey. Joey’s a sweet character. He never did anything to you guys. Let’s cook up some sort of a deal on this. I’d do anything rather than have anything happen to Joey.”
Despite the fear which still dripped along my spinal column I looked at him curiously and not without affection. For years we had bickered, fought and haggled vehemently about money. But beneath it all, I realized now, there had always existed a strong bond of friendship.
Hymie made a gesture of futility. “You know better than that, Sackler. You can’t cook up a deal in a case like this. You can’t trust a guy who’s seen a murder committed. How can you guarantee to keep his mouth shut?”
Sackler sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be responsible for him,” he said and the sincerity in his voice moved me. “You can’t kill him. You can’t.”
He spoke with a terrible zealousness. There was the slightest hint of moisture in my eyes. Sackler the tough guy, Sackler the selfish mug who never thought of anything but himself and his fees, pleading with every nerve for my life. It touched me oddly.
“Take it easy,” said Mike. “It’s a job that’s just got to be done. You been around long enough to know that, Sackler.”
Sackler sighed again. He looked utterly miserable. I felt as if I were in the middle of a big dramatic scene. I tried to play up to it.
“Rex,” I said, “it’s O. K. Forget it. I’m just stuck with it, that’s all. I can take it, all right.”
He did not meet my eyes. He turned to Hymie and said: “All right, if you do kill him what are you going to do with the body?”
Hymie shrugged. “Plant it somewhere. Hide it out in Long Island or drop it in the bay. All the better for us if there’s no corpus delicti.”
“No,” said Sackler, a hint of desperation in his voice, “you don’t have to do that. Leave the corpse here. Or anyway tell me where you’re going to leave it.”
“Look,” said Mike, “if the coppers find the body, they’ll tie it up with Big Joe and Barker’s murder right away. There’ll be a stink raised. Why should we stick our necks out?”
“What if I talk?” asked Sackler. “What if I tell the coppers the truth?”
“Your word’ll mean nothing. There’s no legal evidence to tie us up with Big Joe. Besides, without a body nothing you say’ll make any sense. There ain’t no proof of a murder. Anyway, if you’re worried about a decent burial, Hymie and I’ll bury him neatly ourselves.”
“Thanks, anyway, Rex,” I said. “I—”
He didn’t let me finish. He was out of his chair, smashing his left fist into his right palm and roaring at the top of his voice.
“Burial! Who the hell cares about a burial? Do you realize I’m in for ten grand on Joey’s bail? Do you realize I have to produce a live man, a death certificate, or a corpse? Do you realize if I don’t I lose that dough? Ten grand?”
He sank back into his chair, clapping his hand to his brow as if the thought were too much for him. I glared at him with hell’s own fires of hatred in my heart. I felt at that moment as if I were all the Gestapo and he was Jan Valtin. In one hundred years I shall never be as angry again.
“You louse!” I yelled. “All the time I thought you were worrying about me! A hell of a lot you care how many bullets they blast me with. When I’m lying at the bottom of the East River you’ll be beating your yellow breast about your filthy money. Hymie, for God’s sake, grant me a dying wish. Let me take one smack at him before I go.”
Sackler possessed the unmitigated gall to look at me reproachfully. “Now, Joey,” he said, “they’re going to kill you anyway. I can’t do anything about it. Since you’re going to get it, you may as well save me my money. There’s no sense in both of us suffering. Ten grand’s a lot of dough.”
“On Judgment Day,” I said bitterly, “you’ll crawl from your grave and offer the guy who’s keeping the books two and a half bucks to square yourself. You’ll be astounded when he belts you with his halo.”
“Take it easy, fellows,” said Hymie. “We don’t want no trouble.” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s time, Mike. Go upstairs and call. Tell him it’s O. K. We’re ready.”
Mike nodded. He tucked his gun away, rose and climbed the stairs. Hymie, his thirty-eight in his hand, took over the guard duty. Sackler face was gray. There was pain in his eyes. I came to the astounding conclusion that he was sicker about losing his ten grand than I was about losing my life. I found a single consolation. When Mike’s first bullet exploded into my brain it was going to cost Rex Sackler the sum of ten thousand dollars. The grave would be warmer for that thought.