"How many guards have you up there?"
"There are three women guards. One goes around the cells every hour."
"How about the men guards?"
"They don't go to A floor, but they're around on the other floors every hour. Two to each floor."
"How many in the building?"
"Ten guards on duty, ten off. Since the girl came, Flaggerty has brought down another twenty from Station Headquarters to guard the outside of the jail. It has plenty of protection right now."
I studied the map for several minutes, then sat back and stared at Mitchell.
"If you wanted to get someone out of that jail," I said, "how would you set about it?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't," he said. "It ain't possible."
I handed him the four Cs, and after he'd fingered them and put them away in his pocket, I took out a thousand-dollar bill.
"Ever seen one of these?" I asked him.
He gaped at it, his eyes round.
"'I'd give this to the guy who could tell me how to get that girl out," I said.
He hesitated, then shrugged. "I wish I could, but it just ain't possible." He edged his chair forward. "I'll tell you why. You've got to get in. That's the first step. They've got dogs, searchlights and guards. Maybe you've seen the place ? There aint a scrap of cover around the jail for five hundred yards . . . just sand. The searchlights light up the whole of the expanse of
sand, and there ain't a chance of you getting to the gate without being seen."
"Okay," I said. "Let's suppose we do get up to the gate. What next?"
"But you won't get to the gate," he said impatiently.
"Just suppose we do. Go on from there."
He shrugged. "The guard at the gate checks your credentials. No one except the doctor or a police official is allowed near the place now they've got her. They know you're smart and they're taking no chances. Coppinger had a hell of a time getting in."
"Well, okay. Let's imagine the doctor goes there. He gets in. Then what happens?"
"The guard hands him over to another guard who unlocks the second door, and the doc is escorted to his office. He can't go anywhere else in the prison, unless someone's ill. When that dame died this morning, he was escorted to her cell by a guard and the Head Wardress."
"I thought you said the male guards didn't go to the Women's quarters?" I said sharply.
"They don't unless a male visitor has business in the quarters. Coppinger, for instance, was escorted by two guards."
I drummed on the table. "So it can't be done?" I said.
He sighed regretfully. "I'd tell you if it could be," he said. "I could use that grand, but I know it's hopeless. Believe me, no one can get into that jail and no one can get out. They could try, but they'd be dead meat before they got properly started. I tell you: Flaggerty is expecting you to try. He's got everything sewn up tight, and when that rat sews up anything tight, it stays tight."
I got up. "Okay, Mitchell," I said. "Keep your trap shut about this. I'll think it over. You might still be able to earn that grand. When do you go on duty?"
"Tomorrow morning at seven."
"What's your first job?"
"Inspect the cells, then I've got the job of cleaning up after the P.M."
"What P.M.?"
"They're trying to find out why this dame died. The P.M. is for nine-thirty tomorrow morning."
"Right," I said. "I'll be seeing you."
Out in the hot darkness, Davis said, gloomily, "What the hell are we going to do now?"
"Get that girl out," I said grimly.
"Talk sense. You heard what the man said."
"Sure I heard," I said. "I tell you what I'll do. I'll bet you ten bucks I have her out by tomorrow night."
He stared at me in disgust. "Aw, you're nuts," he said, getting into the car, "but I'll take your money."
"I'm not nuts," I said, climbing in beside him. "I have an idea."
3
A half an hour later I was in the car again with Davis, driving, and Tim Duval in the back. "This is it," Tim said, peering out of the window. Davis swung to the kerb and stopped before a sober-looking building. Above the shop-front was a sign: "Maxison's Funeral Parlour."
"I hope you know what you're doing," Davis said.
"Quit beefing," Tim said, before I could speak. "I'm having the time of my life. Why should you care what he does so long as he does something and takes you with him?"
"Just because you're an irresponsible citizen without a job, to lose, don't think there aren't people who have to consider their futures," Davis snorted. "I'm one of them. This guy's got the bit in his teeth, and I want to know into what kind of hell he's dragging me."
"You'll know," I said. "I have one chance to get into that jail, and I'm taking it. That's why
we've come here."
"You'll come here after you've been to the jail," Davis pointed out. "Maxison will give you a swell funeral."
"Quiet!" I said, then turned to look at Tim. "Maxison live over the premises?"
"Yep," Tim said. "He's lived there for years."
"Come on," Davis pleaded. "Don't be mysterious. Tell me. I want to know."
"This is a long chance," I said, fishing out a packet of cigarettes and lighting one. I offered them round. The others lit up. "You heard what Mitchell said. No one can get near the jail unless he's an official. He also told us a woman prisoner died this morning, and she's to be posted tomorrow morning. Then she'll be buried. Tim tells me Maxison is the only mortician in town. He does all the official burials, and that includes prison burials. I'm going to be his assistant. In that way I hope to get into the jail."
Davis's mouth fell open.
"For crying out loud!" he gasped. "Now that's what I call a damn smart idea. How did you think of it?"
"I thought of it," I said.
He took out his comb, lifted his hat, combed his hair.
"Wait a minute," he said. "What makes you think Maxison will play, and suppose they recognize you at the jail?"
"Maxison will play," I said quietly. "Tim tells me he has a daughter. I don't want to do this, but I have to. We're going to hold his daughter as hostage. If he tries to double-cross me, we'll threaten to knock the girl off."
Davis's small eyes popped.
"We're gangsters now, eh?" he said. "Jeeze! I don't think I like this much."
"You can duck out whenever you like," I said, shrugging. "Hetty will look after the girl. It's just a threat. I must have some hold on him."
"Don't be a sissy," Tim said to Davis. 'You've always looked like a gangster. It's time you acted like one."
Davis grunted. "Well, okay," he said. "Kidnapping carries the death sentence now. Who cares?"
I opened the car, got out.
"Hey," he went on, leaning out of the car. "Suppose they recognize you in the jail? What happens then?"
"Let's wait and see," I said. "You stay with the heep. Tim and I'll handle this. If a copper shows, sound your horn and beat it. We don't want them to get a line on you just yet."