“It’s all right, Henry. Do you have your keys with you?”
“Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
“Because I got to get into the building, that’s why.”
“What building?”
“The Federal Building. What the hell else would I be needing your keys for?”
“You need to get into the office, Longarm?”
Longarm grinned at him. “Not ours. The U.S. attorney’s.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then sit down here on the bench beside me an’ I’ll explain. First, though, do you happen to know if Cotton and his people have closed up an’ gone for the evening?”
Henry snorted. “You won’t find any of that crowd working late. I’m sure they are gone.” Henry seemed to think about that for a moment. Then his eyes got wider. “Longarm! Really. You don’t intend …”
“Maybe you’d best not ask me that question, Henry. You might not wanta know the answer.”
“Or perhaps I should.”
“I saw Billy this afternoon, Henry. Here’s what him and me got to thinking …”
Five minutes later Longarm was on his way the few short blocks to the Federal Building, Henry trudging grim-faced but determined at his side.
“I’m tellin’ you, Henry, you don’t have to get involved with this. I can handle it alone.”
“You mean you can take all the heat yourself if you get caught,” Henry retorted. “May I remind you that two pairs of eyes will get done with the job in half the time? If I am with you there is that much less chance of anyone being found out.”
Longarm nodded. He should have known better than to think Henry would hand the job off to Longarm and walk away. The meek and bookish-appearing clerk had a core made of whang leather and spring steel. All the more so when the issue at hand involved his personal loyalty to Marshal Billy Vail. No, there was no way Henry would allow himself to be kept out of this even if Longarm wanted it. And the truth was that Henry was perfectly right in what he said. Two of them would have twice the chance of success that either one of them would have alone.
Henry used the keys on his ring to open the front door of the Federal Building. He carefully locked it behind them once they were inside.
The gas lamps in the corridors were turned to a low flame, and half of them were extinguished altogether. Longarm thought the dim, shadowy effect was more than a little bit spooky, but Henry did not so much as seem to notice. But then Henry spent a good many evenings alone in the office tending to the mountains of paperwork that kept the place running smoothly. Longarm tended to spend his evenings enjoying a drink, a meal, perhaps a little feminine companionship. He was not used to being in the building when it was empty like this.
Their footsteps rang hollowly on the flooring as they marched past the marshal’s office and on down the hall to the somewhat larger and more nicely appointed suite of offices occupied by the U.S. attorney and his staff.
“I don’t have a key to this door,” Henry whispered.
“That’s all right. I do.”
Henry gave him a quizzical look, which Longarm ignored. Longarm took out his penknife and opened the short, stubby blade. He slipped the slim length of steel between the door and jamb, slid it up and down until he located the lock bar, and jimmied the lock sideways until he could insert the knife blade past the bar. A light tug on the handle and the door swung open.
“I don’t think I could have gotten it open that quickly if I did have the key,” Henry said.
“All it takes is a criminal touch,” Longarm told him. “I think I woulda made one hell of a fine outlaw if I’d wanted to go into that line of work.”
“You may be right.” Henry started to push the door closed behind them.
“Leave it open,” Longarm ordered.
“What if the night watchman comes by?”
Longarm grinned at him. “Hell, son, that’s why I want you to leave it stand open. Whoever is on duty tonight is sure to know us. An’ would we call attention to ourselves if we was up to something we oughtn’t to be?”
“Oh. I see.”
“Good. One more thing. If the watchman does come in to see what we’re up to, don’t tell him anything unless he asks. That’s one of the first things that gives crooks away. They think they’re suspected of something so they start telling lies to cover it over. If you just act like you got a right to be doing whatever it is you’re doing, most often folks—even guards—will think you really do. So if Sam or Charlie or one of them comes in to see who’s in the office late, just tell them hello an’ let it go at that.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Henry said.
“Yeah, but you don’t have the criminal frame of mind like I do.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to regret the lack.”
Longarm smiled at him, then set about lighting every damn lamp in the place. Hey, they had nothing to hide there. No, sir, not a thing.
“Whyn’t you take the files in the outer office here,” Longarm suggested. “I’ll look in Mr. Terrell’s office. Or Cotton’s, I s’pose it would be now.”
“I wonder whose it is at this point. You did say the U.S. attorney may still be alive, right?”
“That’s right, I … oh, shit.”
“What’s wrong, Longarm?”
Longarm rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That nurse friend of mine who was gonna find out if there is another hideout patient being kept under wraps.”
“Yes?”
“I was s’posed to take her out to dinner tonight. Right about now, as a matter of fact. She is gonna be pissed, I think.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. Too late to worry about it now, so let’s get busy an’ see what Mr. Terrell’s files can tell us.”
Chapter 37
“Are you sure this is the place, Longarm?”
“Pretty sure.”
Henry glanced over his shoulder, then quickly in both directions down the street. “It doesn’t look …”
“Safe?” Longarm suggested.
“That too.”
“You don’t find the sort of people we’re looking for livin’ real high on the hog.”
“I suppose you are right. The only thing I hope is that we find them. Period,” Henry said.
“We will if those reports are correct. Now … oops … act drunk,” Longarm hissed in a low whisper.
Henry did not wait for an explanation. He hiccuped. Loudly. And swayed a little on his feet. Longarm put an arm around him as if helping to support Henry’s weight, then started into the alley where they expected to find the cell of anarchists.
“You. Shtope,” a thick, heavily accented voice said from the darkness.
“Shtope?” Longarm asked.
“Shto … shta … stope.”
“Oh. Stop. You mean you want us to stop? What the hell for? Where’s Bucktooth Annie? Ain’t she working tonight?” Longarm complained loudly. “Why ain’t Annie here? Can’t a fella even get laid around here without a bunch of strangers peeking over his shoulder?” Longarm lurched closer to the man who, he could see now, was seated on a wooden crate smack in the middle of the narrow alley. There was no way to get deeper into the darkness without pushing past him.
“No hoor here, mister. Go ‘way.”
“But my friend an’ me, we’re awful horny. We got money. You wanta see? We got lots o’ money,” Longarm said in a very slightly slurred voice as if he too had been tippling more than a man ought to, at least more than was sensible if he intended to stumble into dark alleys in the middle of the night.
The man leaned forward to see, whether with the intention of grabbing the money or simply from a natural impulse to look when one is told to, Longarm couldn’t know.
What he did know was that the dumb sap had set himself up just right. A solid shot with Longarm’s elbow—harder and less likely to suffer damage than the much more vulnerable knuckles—delivered to the point of the man’s jaw sent his eyes rolling up in their sockets and knocked him cold.
“What was that for?” Henry gasped.