Any moment he expected to hear shots behind him. Now that he was on the rim he felt once more the bitter calculating thing of destruction he was before he made money. Every instinct was razor sharp, and even as he climbed across the roofs of the buildings he was already making plans well in advance.
He must get out of town. Stations and roads would be watched. He knew he couldn’t get out of town without aid. He thought of the various people whom he had known, and bitterly he was forced to reject each one. There was no one he could turn to. Grantham, Eller, Lefty, Little Joe, Maltz and the rest of them were finished. He knew that. He was on his own now. He didn’t mind that. He’d got money. That would always be his best friend.
By now he’d reached the end of the block. Peering round a chimney−stack, he could see the police climbing on to the hotel roof some distance away. They began to move very cautiously towards him. Well, they’d take a little while to catch up at that rate.
By his feet was a trap−door. He lifted it carefully and lowered himself into an attic room, drawing the trap−door in place after him. He knew the block was by now surrounded. He took the bundle of money out of his shirt and split it into four small packets. These he distributed carefully in each pocket of his suit. It was no use carrying the Thompson any longer. He put it in the corner of the room and then opened the door and walked into a corridor.
As he walked towards the head of the stairs he loosened his automatic in its shoulder−holster. The place seemed to be a block of offices. When he reached the second landing, rows of frosted−panelled doors confirmed this. At the end of the corridor he saw a gentleman’s toilet. He hesitated a moment and then went in.
The only occupant was a window−cleaner, who was leaning out of the window. Raven eyed his uniform and realized his chance.
The window−cleaner, hearing him come in, looked over his shoulder. “Seems like there’s a lotta excitement poppin’ at the St. Louis,” he said with a grin. “The place is lousy with cops.”
Raven came to the window and looked down. A heavy cordon had been thrown round the block and the street was packed with interested sight−seers.
“What’s it all about?” he asked, stepping back.
“Search me,” the window−cleaner returned, still looking down into the street. “Some excitement.”
Raven drew his automatic and let the barrel slide into his hand, then he dealt the window−cleaner a crushing blow at the back of his head.
14
September 9th, 10.5 a.m.
JAY ELLINGER walked into the F.B.I. offices and asked for Campbell. He was shown up immediately.
Campbell got up from behind his desk and shook hands. “Sit down, Ellinger,” he said, pushing over a box of cigars. “Make yourself at home.”
Jay shook his head at the cigars. “Too early for me, thanks,” he said, taking out his cigarette−case. “I just looked in to hear how things were going.”
Campbell smiled. “You’re free, ain’t you?” he said. “I mean, you’re lookin’ for some sort of job?”
Jay looked surprised. “Why, sure,” he said, “I guess I am.”
“Ever thought anythin’ about this racket?”
“What? A Federal Agent?”
Campbell nodded. “I’ve been on to Mr. Hoover’s chief of staff. We think you’d make a good agent, Ellinger.”
“Why, sure,” Jay said eagerly, “I’d jump at it.”
“Seeing that it was through your efforts this big Slave Ring’s been exposed, we thought it only fair to let you in at the death. What do you say?”
“It’s mighty nice of you.”
“Okay, then I’ll fix it. A Federal Agent has to sit for all sorts of examinations and has to go through all kinds of tests and training before he can join up. I’m goin’ to let you off these for the time being. You’ll work with one of my operators and you’ll just be his assistant. When we’ve cleaned all this business up you’ll be posted to one of our trainin’ centres. Right now there isn’t the time for it.”
Jay nodded. “That’s fine. You can rely on me to do as I’m told. I’d like to see the end of this guy Raven.”
“So you shall.” Campbell pressed a bell. “I’ll get Hogarty to come in.”
A moment later a tall, thick−set man entered. “Mornin", Chief,” he said, tipping his hat.
“Hogarty, meet Jay Ellinger. You’ve heard about him. I’m sending Ellinger along with you. He might be able to help. When all this is over he’s being sworn in.”
Hogarty shook hands with Jay. He seemed pleased to know him. “You’ve done a smart bit of work already,” he observed.
“Okay. Now what’ve you to report?” Campbell asked, signing Hogarty to another chair.
Hogarty sat down. “Well, Chief, he’s got away. I’m sorry about it, but somehow or other he slipped through the cordon.”
Campbell shrugged. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy,” he said. “He can’t leave town, can he?”
“He’ll be damn clever if he does,” Hogarty said grimly. “The place is sewed up tight enough.”
“What about the other guys?”
“Two of them are dead, and Little Joe’s ready to squawk.”
Campbell nodded. “You better see he’s put somewhere where they can’t get at him,” he said. “What about Mrs. Perminger… she all right?”
“Yeah. We’ve got her out in the country. I’ve put three operators on to her and she’s got a woman to keep her company. She’ll be right on the spot when the guy comes to trial. Jeeze! Does she hate that fella?”
Campbell’s face hardened. “She’s got a lot of reasons for hatin’ him,” he said. “It beats me how she came through at all.”
Hogarty climbed to his feet. “Women are tough,” he said. “And when a dame hates like that Mrs. P., I’d sooner be a long way away from her.”
“What are you goin’ to do now?”
“Stick around. It takes time, Chief. If he’s run to ground we’ll have to wait for him. Sooner or later he’ll make a slip an’ then we’ll get him.”
“You’re sure the town’s sewed up?”
“It’s tight. Every road’s bein’ watched. The stations are looking out for him and the airport too. No, I guess he’ll have to stay out. It’s a pity he got away with all that dough. It makes things much easier when they’re broke.”
“All right, take Ellinger along with you. Get after him, Hogarty; we want quick results.”
Hogarty jerked his head to Ellinger. “Sure,” he said, and as they went out he winked at Jay. “Maybe he does want quick results, but he ain’t goin’ to get them,” he told Jay as they walked down the passage.
“Sometimes it takes months before a guy breaks from cover. We just have to wait.”
Jay followed him out into the crowded street.
15
September 9th, 10.45 a.m.
ON THE third floor of a shabby little hotel Raven slept behind the locked door of the grimy bedroom he had rented. He slept uneasily. A gun lay beside him on the soiled sheet. He hadn’t taken off his clothes.
Newspapers covered the floor so that anyone approaching his bed would, by the rustle of the papers, wake him.
He wore a smart black suit that the hotel owner had obtained for him. The hotel owner was a guy called Goshawk. Raven had paid him well and he hadn’t asked questions. Already he knew who Raven was.