“Why?”
“The Big Noise in Chi’s cuttin’ in here.”
“What is the plan?”
Chi Kid remained silent. Mart did not press the question, waiting coldly until the other said:
“Listen. I ain’t no stoolie, but flopped this game anyhow — so if you’re on the square about givin’ me a break with my rod, just you and me, I’ll tell you the set-up.”
“Everything?” Mart demanded.
“The works.”
“All right. Now who was in on this with you and Fat?”
“Red Conley and Eltner, an’ Izzy the Yid over in Brooklyn.”
Mart raised his eyes accusingly at the two gang leaders. Eltner was brazenly defiant. “He’s a damn liar,” he said.
Red, however, was white with desperation. His right hand was stealing under his lapel toward the gun under his armpit. Mart’s draw was like a flash of light. Before anyone realized it, the traitor’s forehead was threatened by the unwavering muzzle of the racketeer’s gun.
“Take him, Chimp!” Mart snapped.
The ex-wrestler needed no second bidding. Before Red could cry out for mercy, Chimp’s hands had flashed upward. The left clutched Red’s head high in the back. The right caught at his chin — then pulled suddenly in opposite directions.
There followed a grisly, muffled snap — a single groan — and Red, his neck broken at the axis, slumped to the floor.
The others stepped back from the body and all eyes turned to Eltner. Chimp, his hands still raised in the gesture of attack, nodded toward the other and said, “Him, too?”
Mart shook his head.
“Hymie’s a rat,” he said, “but we’ve got to have somebody to throw to the bulls so the reformers’ll be quiet. We’ll give him to the homicide squad and they’ll figure out a nice little yarn that will send him to the hot-spot in Sing Sing for these three killings.”
Already his gun had covered Eltner, and at a nod of command Chimp stepped forward to deprive the trembling victim of his weapons — a heavy automatic and a spring-knife. Then Mart turned again to the Chi Kid.
“There it is,” he said. “An out for you if you win. All of the killings accounted for and a nice, easy case for the dicks. Now speak up. What was the plan?”
“I was to get you and that ape-guy, Doggie and the chauffeur. Then the Big Noise and two others was coming in to take over. It was all framed to get the gangs to fighting while the Big Noise got his claws on the alky and dope rackets. After that — well, you know the game.”
“Anybody come with you?”
“Only my twist — Vi Taylor. She hasn’t done anything yet. Leave her alone, will you?”
“Send her back to Chicago if I get you — make your own arrangements if you win,” Mart snapped.
He nodded to Skillman and for a few moments they talked in a corner. Then Mart turned to the others and said:
“It’s time to scatter now. I’ll attend to what is to be done here. Everybody forgets what has happened during the night. Skillman will wait at the end of a telephone line to hear from me and when I give him the word he’ll slip the dope to the dicks.
“Beat it now, boys.”
“But Mart” — it was Kelly Martin speaking — “don’t you want us to stick around if... if—” He motioned toward the Chi Kid.
Mart shrugged contemptuously.
“Hell no!” he said. “See you all tonight. Go out one at a time now, and forget what you’ve seen and heard.”
They left as he had directed, but each stopped and clasped Mart’s hand in friendly good wishes, before going.
While this was going on, Chimp saw to it that Eltner’s wrists and ankles were tied and looked again to the Chi Kid’s bonds to be certain they were secure.
When the last man was gone, Mart said:
“We’ll go up and search Fat’s room now, Chimp; probably there’ll be some letters or telegrams to tell us more of the story.”
With a last look at the prisoners. Chimp turned and followed Mart to the death room above.
The Chi Kid, listening for the sound of their feet upstairs, set his teeth in his lower lip to suppress a groan and forced one swollen hand backward and upward toward the other coatsleeve.
It was a gruesome task Mart and Chimp found awaiting them in the death chamber, but it was one they were forced to perform for the common good. Mart’s leadership demanded that he go through to the end, so he turned resolutely from the ghastly bodies of Fat and Paddy, to search drawers and other hiding places for needed evidence of treachery.
The task required nearly an hour of reading, assorting and the final search for some concealed hiding place in the walls. Until now nothing had been found which had a bearing on the Chicago mob and its plots.
Mart, tapping the walls for hollow places came at last to the bed on which Fat’s body lay. He pushed it out and instantly his eyes lighted. There, hidden behind the frame of the bed was an ordinary, built-in cupboard, secured by an ordinary tongue lock.
Fat’s key-ring provided the proper key and Mart exclaimed in satisfaction as the door swung open and disclosed a steel cash box, a document folder and some bankbooks. He opened the steel box and there came to light several thousand dollars in large bills and a number of promissory notes.
What he sought was contained in the document folder. There were two compromising letters from the Big Noise in Chicago, several carefully worded telegrams, and the note of introduction Chi Kid had given Fat on the occasion of his first call.
Another paper bore a list of the gang leaders. Several were crossed out. Others had question marks after them, indicating to Mart that they had refused so far to join in the plot.
After the names of Red, Hymie, Izzy the Yid, and four other minor leaders, were crosses. Satisfied that here was the proof he sought, Mart put the folder in his pocket and returned the other articles to the cupboard. Then he snapped the lock shut and nodded to Chimp.
After one final look about the room, they went downstairs, passed through the rear of the bar and into the back room where they had left the prisoners.
Chimp walked in advance. As he entered the door, he leaped forward excitedly.
“Cripes. Chief — he’s gone!” he barked.
Mart leaped past him toward the table where they had left the trussed-up Chi Kid.
The table was empty and the ropes with which he had been bound lay on the floor. Mart picked up one of them and examined it carefully. It had been cut, cleanly, with some keen instrument. Mart swore and flashed his hand to his gun, his eyes darting about the room in search of his resourceful enemy.
Nowhere was there trace of the Chi Kid.
Hymie Eltner still lay in the corner where Chimp had dumped him unceremoniously, after binding his hands and feet. Mart strode over, glowering blackly, and examined the bonds. They had not been tampered with.
Chimp was dashing about the place, seeking in closets, under the bar — anywhere — everywhere — for some trace of the vanished gunman.
Finally, satisfied that Chi Kid had gone from the building, Mart strode over to Eltner.
“Tell me,” he rasped, “who turned him loose?”
“Nobody,” Hymie replied. “He had a safety-razor blade stitched in his coatsleeve. You hadn’t been gone five minutes before he’s cut himself loose. And the lousy rat lammed without giving me a chance. He left a message for you, Mart—”
“What?”
“He said to tell you that he’d stick around — that he wanted to show you his rod, like he’d promised. Cripes, I hope you get him, Mart — even if you are giving me the works. No chance for me, Big Fellow?”
Mart glared at him for a full minute, then turned away dispiritedly.
“Cut him loose,” he said to Chimp, “he’s just a rat and there’d be another rat in his place. What do we care for all the Hymies and Reds and Izzys when there’s a Chi Kid loose in the town?”