The telephone bell rang, startling him so that he slopped whisky on the carpet. He put down the glass and picked up the telephone receiver.
“You asked to be told when Mr. Jack Howard arrived,” the reception clerk said. “He’s just booked in: Room 135.”
“Thanks,” Kramer said and hung up. He finished his drink and lit a cigar. Room 135 would be on his floor: down the far end of the corridor. Dermott would have a million and a half in cash. What was he going to do? Kramer asked himself. Gould he really believe that Helene had said goodbye? If she meant it, then why should he stick around here? Why not take what there was of the ransom and get the hell out of here? Why should he bother his head about Moe and the Cranes?
The cigar tasted bitter, and with an impatient gesture, he stubbed it out.
A man could live pretty well with a million and a half dollars. He could get on a boat and go to Cuba. Maybe, later, Helene would join him. He closed his eyes. He felt curiously tired and the nagging pain in his side worried him. Could he walk out on Moe? He ran his thick fingers through his hair as he tried to decide what he was to do. Finally, still undecided, he hoisted himself to his feet, took another drink and then walked out into the long corridor. He started down towards Room 135.
Vic Dermott was washing his hands in the small bathroom when he heard a knock on the door. Drying his hands, he crossed the room and still holding the towel, he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The sight of Kramer startled him. He backed away as Kramer came in, pushing the door shut behind him.
“Well?” Kramer said. “How have you been making out?”
“All right,” Vic said and tossed the towel on to the bed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“How much money have you got?” Kramer said.
“A million, six hundred thousand so far,” Vic said and waved to the two suitcases lying on the floor near his bed.
“Let’s see... open them up,” Kramer said.
“Help yourself,” Vic said quietly.
Kramer stared for a long, threatening moment at Vic who stared back at him, then with a grunt, he went over to the suitcases, bent and opened one of them. As he did so, he felt something that was like a red-hot spear drive through his body. His big hands had already lifted the lid of the suitcase. He fell forward, his eyes staring at the mass of one hundred dollar bills in the case, the pain in his side making him speechless.
He tried to say something. He tried to get his face away from the open suitcase. He was suddenly without strength, like a punctured sawdust doll. Then there was another shocking jolt of pain that made him groan and he relaxed into death, his hands grasping at the money he would never spend.
Paralysed with surprise and shock, Vic watched the big man die. It was only when the heavy body sprawled on the floor that Vic moved forward in a helpless, hopeless attempt to do something.
He stood over the dead body and he thought of Carrie and Junior. He remembered suddenly that the Federal Officer had said someone would be near him all the time. He went to the door and opened it, then moved out into the corridor. There was a long pause, then a door opened further down the corridor and a tall, powerfully-built man appeared. He looked at Vic and raised his eyebrows.
“You’d better come,” Vic said. “He’s dead.”
An hour later, Jay Dennison arrived at the hotel. He went immediately to Vic’s room. Vic had been waiting in Kramer’s room with Abe Mason, the Federal Officer. They now both joined Dennison who stared down at Kramer’s body while he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. Then he looked at the two suitcases packed with money.
“How much is there in that little lot?” he asked.
Vic told him.
Dennison turned to Mason.
“Fix it to get the body removed when the hotel is asleep,” he said. “I don’t want any publicity about this.” He closed the suitcases and picked them up. “Let’s you and me, Mr. Dermott, go somewhere where we can talk.”
Vic led the way back to Kramer’s room and the two men shut themselves in. Dennison sat on the bed while Vic sat in the only armchair.
“You have enough money here to satisfy the other three,” Dennison said. “I guess we’d better start things moving. I want you to return to Wastelands and give these hoods this money. Once they get it, they’ll quit. Once away from Wastelands, they’ll be out in the open. My men will close in on them and that’ll be their finish. Would you like a gun, Mr. Dermott?”
Vic shook his head.
“No... if I go back there alone, they are certain to search me. If they find a gun on me, they’ll know something is up. No: I don’t want a gun.”
“We could hide one in your car.”
Vic shook his head.
“I’m taking no chances. This is too important to my wife and myself. Besides, I’m hopeless with a gun.”
“Well, okay: maybe you’re right.” Dennison thought for a long moment. “They’ll want to know where Kramer is. Tell them he is waiting for them at the Arrowhead Moteclass="underline" Cabin 57. They’ll never get as far as the motel, but it’ll sound right.”
“You think so?” Vic was doubtful. “Suppose one of them telephones the motel and asks for Kramer?”
Dennison smiled.
“I’ll fix all that, Mr. Dermott. The owner of the motel has worked with me before now. He’ll say Kramer has gone out.”
“I have still more cheques to cash. What do I do with them?”
“It’s my bet Kramer hasn’t told the others how much he was asking. They’ll be happy enough with a million and half dollars. Let me have the rest of the cheques. I’ll return them to Mr. Van Wylie.”
As Vic handed over the remaining cheques, he said, “They don’t expect me back for another two days. Won’t they be suspicious when I turn up so soon?”
“Tell them Kramer speeded up the operation,” Dennison returned. “Tell them as you had no trouble cashing the cheques you got way ahead of schedule. Why should they care?”
Vic thought about all this. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t see what else to do.
“All right: then I’m ready to go.”
Dennison looked at his watch.
“You can get to San Bernardino in three or four hours. Stay the night there and get to Wastelands around ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I have three of my men staked out in the sand dunes, watching the house. You won’t be alone, but play it carefully. It’s my bet when these three get their hands on all this money, they’ll quit and quit fast.”
“I’m not waiting until tomorrow morning,” Vic said with quiet determination. “I don’t intend to leave my wife out there for another night. I’m driving to Wastelands tonight.”
“Now look, Mr. Dermott...” Dennison began, but Vic cut him short.
“I said I’m driving to Wastelands tonight. And no one is going to stop me!”
Dennison studied him, then shrugged.
“I guess I’d act the same way. Okay, but watch it.”
As Vic picked up the two suitcases, Dennison reached for the telephone.
Harper was about to shake Letts awake to take over the watch on the ranch house when he heard Zelda’s screams.
The sound woke the other two Federal Officers and the three men looked anxiously at one another.
“What the hell’s going on up there?” Letts said, getting to his feet.
The screams that came shrilly through the still night air suddenly stopped and silence once again descended over the desert.
“I’m going up there,” Harper said.
“Wait,” Letts said. “I’m better at this kind of caper than you. I could get up there without being seen. If they spot us, the balloon will go up.”
Letts was a small, wiry man who had seen service as a jungle scout during the war. Harper recognized his claim. If anyone could get to the ranch house without being seen, it would be Letts.