I followed her along the corridor to Lois's room. A cop paced up and down outside. He nodded to me as I went in.
Lois was lying flat. Her face hadn't been touched. They had told me that hot oil had flowed over her chest. She looked practically done.
I stood over her, waited.
She looked up, her eyes, dark with pain, searched my face.
"Hello, gambler," she said- "You had all the luck."
I didn't say anything.
She chewed her lip, frowned. "I want to talk to you."
I pulled up a chair, sat down.
"You'd better take it easy," I said. "You'll need all your strength. You're pretty ill, Lois."
"I know it," she said, her mouth twisting. "I'm through. But I wanted to see you before . . ."
"Okay, go ahead," I said, waited.
"Men have been my bad luck," she said, staring at the ceiling. "They all let me down except Juan. I was fond of Juan, Cain. I kind of went crazy when I lost him. But I should have left you alone. Evening things up isn't my strong suit—not against you, anyway. You're too lucky, Cain."
"You haven't done so badly," I said. "You blew my home and business to hell. What more do you want?"
She sneered. "But you're still here, and your girl. Juan isn't, and I'm finished too."
"Let's skip it," I said. "This won't get us anywhere."
"Bat double-crossed me," she said, spitefully.
"What did you expect? The snake would double-cross his own mother."
"My fault again," she said. "I wanted to use him to even things with you, but he thought I'd fallen for him. I ought to have played with him until this was over, but I gave him hell.
How could I fall for a filthy brute like him? I told him so, and he fixed me." She moved her legs restlessly. "They swear they've filled me full of dope, but it hurts—it hurts like hell."
I didn't say anything.
"I taught Bat how to explode the gas dump, rehearsed him for weeks. God! He was dumb. He couldn't have done it without me. He wanted to shoot you, but I had to be smart. You see, it didn't work out. I wanted to see you and your girl go up in flames along with your smug little home."
I looked away. It was no use hating her; she was dying and she'd paid for what she had done.
"You're not letting Bat get away?" she asked abruptly.
I shook my head. "Where is he ?"
"What'll you do to him?"
"Shoot or arrest him," I said. "I don't care which. One or the other."
She grimaced, sweat was running down her face. "I wish he could suffer the way I'm suffering," she said.
"Where is he?"
"He'll have cleared out of my apartment by now," she said, frowning. "He'll go to Little Louis. I think you'll find him there. He won't know where to hide. You'd've caught him long ago if it hadn't been for me. He hasn't any brains."
"Where's Little Louis?" I asked impatiently.
She gave me a downtown address in San Francisco.
"Who is he?"
"Just one of the boys," she said indifferently. "He holes up anyone on the run. Watch your step, Cain. I want you to catch Bat."
"I'll catch him," I said, standing up.
She closed her eyes.
"Well, I don't look awful," she said, "that's something, I guess. I'd hate to die ugly."
I couldn't stand the atmosphere any longer.
"So long," I said.
"Kill him for me, Cain," she said.
I went.
Waiting for me in the corridor was Tim Duval. At first, I couldn't believe my eyes.
"What did you expect?" he said, shaking hands. "As soon as we read about it, I flew up. All the boys pooled the fare. They wanted to come too, but they couldn't get away."
"Am I glad to see you," I said, slapping him on the back.
"So you should be," he said, grinning. "Hetty'll be along soon. She's coming by train. How's the kid?"
"Not so bad," I said. "She'll be all right in a month or so. It was a close call, Tim." T scowled at him, added, "I have a job for you."
He nodded. "I knew it," he said. "That's why I came. Bat, eh?"
"Sure," I said, "only you're camping outside Clair's door. So long as I know she's safe I can get to work. Now don't argue," I went on hurriedly as he began to speak. "Bat's dangerous. He might come here to finish the job. Stick around, Tim. I know Clair will be safe if you're here. I have things to do."
"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "And I was planning to get in on a man-hunt."
I punched him lightly on his chest.
"You watch Clair," I said. "This man-hunt is going to be between Bat and me." I led him to Clair's door. "Not a word about Bat. I've told her he's in jail. Go in and see her for a minute, then get a chair and park outside. I don't expect to be long."
I left him before he could protest.
7
The taxi driver slowed, stopped. "This is as far as I can take you, Bud," he said. "The joint you want is down that alley, if it is the joint you want."
I got out of the cab, peered down a narrow alley, blocked by two iron posts.
"I guess it is," I said, gave him half a buck.
"Want me to stick around?" he asked. "It don't look like your home."
"It isn't, but don't wait," I said, and walked towards the alley.
It was dark; mist from the sea softened the gaunt outlines of the buildings. The single street lamp made a yellow pool of light on the slimy sidewalk. Not far away a ship's siren hooted. The sound of moving water against the harbour walls was distinct.
I lit a cigarette, moved on. Little Louis had selected a lonely spot for a home, I thought. The buildings I passed were warehouses, most of them in disuse. The property, the taxi driver had told me, had been condemned and was going to be pulled down. It should have been pulled down long ago.
A half-starved black cat appeared out of the shadows, twisted itself around my legs. I stooped, scratched its head, went on. The cat followed me.
Little Louis's place was the last building in a row of battered wooden ruins. I flipped my cigarette into a puddle, stood back, looked up at the house. The cat moved delicately towards the puddle, sniffed at the cigarette, howled dismally.
"Some joint, puss," I said.
The building was a three-storey job; no lights showed, most of the windows had rotten planks nailed across them. It was a proper dump, the kind of building Hollywood favours when creating a chiller atmosphere.
I tried to get round the back of the building, but found it looked on to a kind of reservoir. The stillness and blackness of the water was deceptive. It looked solid.
I went back to the front of the building, tried the front door. It was locked. I prowled around, found a lower window, tried to move it, but it wouldn't budge. I went to the next window, heaved. It creaked loudly. I cursed the plank, took out my gun, forced the barrel backwards and forwards until the plank broke away from its rusty nails. I made less noise than I expected. I hoped no one had heard the first creak, which had been something.