“I’LL show you I’m on the level,” asserted Hawkeye, throwing a look of challenge toward the angered lieutenants. “I’ll spring something that these pals of yours never thought of. I’m not telling you to bounce these gorillas you’ve got. Keep them for bodies. But use them outside like Rook used to do with his.”
“And keep nobody inside, huh?” snorted Lingo. “Make the same mistake Rook did. Say — what do you think you’re getting away with?”
“Not a thing,” retorted Hawkeye. “I haven’t told you not to keep a guy on the inside. Give me a chance to spill my idea before you get sore. Put a guy on the inside and keep him as a regular body. But take my tip and don’t use a mug that somebody else tells you is O.K.”
“Maybe you could find one,” jeered Lingo.
“I wouldn’t look for one,” retorted Hawkeye. “That would make it look like I was framing something. But I’m not. I’m all for you, Lingo — and I’m telling you what you can do in order to sit right where you are. If I was a big shot I wouldn’t trust any regular gorilla.” Hawkeye’s bold persuasion had gained results. Lingo was musing; his lieutenants were silent. Only one doubt remained. Lingo expressed it.
“Sounds good,” he decided, “but where do you fit in on it? You aren’t handing me this for nothing, are you?”
“Not a chance,” grinned Hawkeye. “I just sprang this so you’d know that I’m a guy that’s got ideas. A good enough guy to have workin’ for you. Moving round and picking out the high spots. Spotting some of these mugs that send phony gab along the grapevine. Looking for some of these screwies that think they’re too smart to be spotted.”
HAWKEYE had spoken cunningly. His talk had followed the plan that The Shadow had suggested through Burbank. Apparently, Hawkeye had played it well; for although some of the lieutenants were still dubious as to the little man’s merits, Lingo appeared impressed.
“You’re in,” decreed the newly crowned big shot. “Go to it, Hawkeye. Bring in all the dope you can get; meanwhile, I’m going to use that idea of yours. Well, anyway there’s no use worrying about any trouble right now. Nobody goin’ to squawk much while we let things cool. I’m going uptown. Who’s coming along?”
“Where’re you heading,” asked Louie Caparani. “Up to Brindle’s?”
“Sure,” returned Lingo. “Where else would I be goin’? I been up there every day, haven’t I. Can’t think of anywhere better, can you?”
Louie shook his head.
“All right,” ended Lingo. “Come along, whoever’s coming.”
The whole assemblage started downstairs. Out front, they split up. Hawkeye watched Louie Caparani and Buzz Dongarth get aboard a cab with Lingo. Two gorillas joined them. The cab pulled away while the other lieutenants dispersed. Hawkeye grinned as he shuffled eastward.
The Shadow’s plan had worked perfectly. Lingo Queed had accepted Hawkeye’s suggestion regarding a bodyguard. Hawkeye had put himself in right with the big shot. More than that, two other objectives had been obtained.
First, Hawkeye had spotted a lieutenant who looked suspicious; one whose name he intended to report immediately to The Shadow. That was Buzz Dongarth. It would be easy to check up further on the new lieutenant. The other point that Hawkeye had gained was an odd one. It required a prompt report.
It was the fact that Lingo Queed was on his way to Brindle’s restaurant, an eating place on Broadway.
Coupled with Hawkeye’s recent suggestion, Lingo’s visit to Brindle’s would prove an important factor in The Shadow’s final plan.
For The Shadow had knowledge superior to that his agents had given him.
CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW’S PLANTS
HALF an hour after they had started their taxi trip, Lingo Queed and his companions arrived at Brindle’s Restaurant. They entered the Broadway eating place and strolled toward booths at the rear, while gawk-eyed patrons watched them.
Brindle’s was a popular place with gilt-edged mobsters. It had long been known as a rendezvous for big shots. At present, Lingo Queed was biggest of the big, even though he did not look the part. True he had discarded his shabby, sweatered garb; but the ready-made suit that he had taken instead was a typical pattern of the East Side tailor shops.
Lingo looked like a Bowery tough alongside of his lieutenants, Louis Caparani and Buzz Dongarth. Louie was immaculately clothed in a blackish suit that had a tuxedo touch; while Buzz had improved his appearance considerably since making his deal with Bart Koplin.
Big shot and lieutenants took one booth, while the gorillas slid into one adjacent. This conformed to gangland’s etiquette. As a precautionary measure, the gorillas chose the booth between Lingo’s and the door. They were acting as the big shot’s bodyguards.
A pudgy, bald-headed man approached the booth and nodded. Fat chin resting on the points of his dress collar, he presented menus for the guests. Lingo and the others addressed him as “Maxie” — the only name by which they knew this head waiter.
“Still shy a doorman, eh, Maxie?” questioned Louie.
“Ach, yes,” grumbled Maxie. “They come for the job. They find out what place this is. They go. They do not want the job.”
“How come?” queried Lingo.
Louie looked surprised when he heard the new king’s question. Then he laughed.
“That’s right, Lingo,” remarked the racketeer. “You hadn’t been coming to this joint until I brought you up here the other night. You’ve liked it since then, though.”
“Stick to the doorman,” growled Lingo. “What about him? Is it a gag?”
“Ach, no,” put in Maxie. “It is too bad. The old doorman, he was foolish enough to get into trouble. One month ago, that was, he was too slow getting out of the way, when customers got busy with their guns. Killed, he was.”
“I heard about it,” recalled Lingo. “Some guy in from Chi bumped into a torpedo who had it in for him. Wasn’t that it?”
“Yeah,” put in Buzz. “And neither of them would have hurt anybody else if the doorman hadn’t tried to scram out of the way. The sap jumped the wrong direction and got in front of a slug.”
“Try to tell that to the men who come here,” shrugged Maxie. “Ach, the employment offices send them to this address. When they see the name above the door they leave.”
“Change the name of the place,” laughed Louie.
“Or hire one of my gorillas,” add Lingo. “Look at those mugs in the next booth, Maxie. See how one of the would look in uniform.”
“You joke,” declared Maxie, soberly. “But it is no joke to me. I have been told this week to act as manager here. I have to hire the new doorman. But none will come.”
A waiter approached. Maxie took the orders and gave them to the menial. The bald-headed man waddled toward the rear of the restaurant; then came back. He stopped close beside Lingo’s booth; the big shot looked up quickly as he saw the head waiter pause.
A HUGE man had come into the restaurant. He was a gigantic African with fists the size of hams. His dark face was wearing a smile as he bowed to Maxie. Apparently he had been sent back to the head waiter.
“Are you Mr. Maxie?” the big fellow inquired. “If you is, you’s the gen’l’man ah was told to ask foah.”
“What about?” inquired Maxie, looking up at the face a foot above him.
“Dat job heah. You want a doorman, don’t you, sah?”
“Ach, yes!” Maxie rubbed his hands warmly. “Who sent you over here?”