“It's on the level?” Sam sounded worried.
“Is any big dough on the level?” Duffy asked. “Don't you sweat about me, I'm okay.”
Sam said, “I'm going to have a sweet time with Alice tonight.”
“Tell her about Olga. She'll understand. Tell her Olga's swell. She won't expect me then.”
“Is she?” Sam sounded curious.
“Is she what?”
“Swell.”
“O boy! Listen, that honey's—” Duffy broke off as Olga walked into the room. “Well, Sam, I'll be seeing you. Don't do anything you wouldn't like me to know about.” He dropped the receiver on to the prong.
Olga smiled at him. “I heard. I'm glad.”
“You packed my things?”
“Just finished. There's so much junk.”
“Leave it.. We ain't coming back.”
He put his arms round her. “I like you a lot,” he said.
She pulled his face down to hers hungrily. “Was I really good for you?” she whispered.
He said, “Huh-uh.”
She put her mouth against his neck. “Best of all?” she asked, taking a little of his skin between her teeth.
He pressed her to him and said, “Sure, best of all.”
They stood there for a long time, just holding each other. Duffy liked the feel of her hair against his face. Then he pushed her away gently, holding her at arm's length. “I wonder if we've been crazy, going for a gang like Morgan's,” he said. “I could get a job right now, and we could settle down.”
“Play Gleason and we'll skip,” she said.
Duffy shrugged. He walked over to his bags and closed them, pulling the straps down hard. “Yeah,” he said, “you ain't Alice, are you?”
She looked puzzled. “Alice?” she said. “Who's Alice?”
Duffy grinned at her, but his mind was not with her.
“Oh, nothing—she's a sucker. Dough don't mean a thing to her. It's love in a poorhouse with her.”
Olga shrugged. “That type's nearly dead,” she said a little scornfully, “but you find 'em sometimes.”
Duffy stood looking round the room, holding the bags in either hand. He stood there so long that Olga touched his arm.
“Let's go, hophead,” she said.
Duffy said, “Sure.” He walked to the door and then stopped again. “I ain't ever going to see this joint again,” he said.
Olga pushed past him into the corridor. “Who cares?” she asked, walking down the stairs.
Duffy looked after her, put one of the bags on the floor, shut the door, picked the bag up again, and followed her down.
CHAPTER XI
BACK AT OLGA'S villa, Duffy immediately put through a call to Annabel. While he was waiting for the connection, Olga began packing. Duffy could hear her moving about in the bedroom, overhead, singing in a husky monotone, but with plenty of swing with it.
The line connected with a little plop, and he said, “Hullo.”
Annabel's breathless voice floated to his ear. “Who is it?” she asked.
Duffy said, “Your boy friend there? This is Duffy.”
“You're going to make a bad move soon,” she said fiercely, “and I'm going to get a big laugh when you fall down.”
Duffy said, “I ain't got time to talk to you just now, hot pants. Get Gleason.”
She said very evenly, “They put smart guys like you in a gasoline bath and drop in a match.”
Gleason must have taken the 'phone from her. Duffy heard him say, “Pipe down, for Gawd's sake.”
“Gleason?” Duffy asked.
“Yeah. You ready to play ball?”
“Sure, I'm ready to trade. Competition wasn't so hot. They offered forty grand, no more, no less. It's yours for fifty.”
Gleason raved, “How the hell can I get fifty grand together?”
Duffy's mouth shaped into a smile, but his eyes were mirthless. “I'm moving out tomorrow first thing,” he said. “I don't care who has the list, but I want somebody's cash tonight. Fifty grand ain't all that big, for an outfit like yours.”
Gleason said, “You're going to pay for this, you sonofabitch.”
Duffy said, “Not until I get the dough and you get the book. After that, we'll all have to watch out.”
Gleason was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I can't bring cash; I'll make it a certified cheque.”
“Cash,” Duffy's voice was hard. “I'm feeding at the 'Red Ribbon' tonight around eight-thirty. If you ain't there by the time I'm through, the deal's off. And it's gotta be cash.” He dropped the receiver back and went upstairs.
Olga was kneeling before a large cabin trunk. The floor was strewn with her clothes.
Duffy said, “For God's sake...”
She turned her head and smiled at him. “Come and help,” she said.
He looked at the small clock on the mantelshelf. From where he stood he could just make out the tiny hands. It was six-thirty. He put his hands under her elbows and brought her to her feet.
“Listen, baby,” he said patiently, “this is going to be a quick journey. Leave all this junk. Just pack a bag. I'll buy you the world when we're out of this.”
She made a little face. “They're so lovely.” She turned and looked at the things lying about.
“Come on,” he urged, “time's moving.”
Together, they packed two large grips. Then Duffy went downstairs. He went into the kitchen and found a full bottle of Scotch. Taking two glasses, he went upstairs again. Putting the bottle on the small table by the bed he said, “Let's have a drink.”
Olga came over and tore off the tissue wrapping round the bottle and flipped up the patent stopper. She splashed three inches of whisky into each glass.
Duffy said, “To us,” and they drank.
“We're feeding at the 'Red Ribbon' tonight.”
She added some ginger ale to the whisky.
“And then...?”
“Gleason might bring the dough. I think he will. If he does, we get in the Buick and get out of town quick.”
“And the lists?”
He nodded. “Sure, I ain't forgotten them. I'm going to collect right now. I'll be gone about half an hour. You change. Put on something you can travel in.”
She came over to him and put her arms tightly round his neck.
“What's this?” he asked.
She raised herself on her toes and whispered urgently in his ear.
He looked at the clock, then he shook his head. “Not now,” he said gently.