Conant didn’t move. His eyes narrowed to slits. His hard mouth jerked the cigarette in it once. He didn’t touch the Luger. After a moment he said: «Guess you know what will happen to you now.»
Carmady shook his head slightly. He said: «Maybe I’m not particular about that. If it does happen, you won’t know anything about it.»
Conant stared at him, didn’t move. He stared at him for quite a long time, stared at the blue gun. «Where did you get it? Didn’t the heels frisk you?»
Carmady said: «They did. This is Shenvair’s gun. Your wop friend must have kicked it behind the bathtub. Careless.»
Conant reached two thick fingers forward and turned the Luger around and pushed it to the far edge of the table. He nodded and said tonelessly: «I lose this hand. I ought to have thought of that. That makes me do the talking.»
Jean Adrian came quickly across the room and stood at the end of the table. Carmady reached forward across the chair and took the Luger in his left hand and slipped it down into his overcoat pocket, kept his hand on it. He rested the hand holding the blue gun on the top of the chair.
Jean Adrian said: «Who is this man?»
«Doll Conant, a local bigtimer. Senator John Myerson Courtway is his pipe line into the state senate. And Senator Courtway, angel, is the man in your photo frame on your desk. The man you said was your father, that you said was dead.»
The girl said very quietly: «He is my father. I knew he wasn’t dead. I’m blackmailing him — for a hundred grand. Shenvair and Targo and I. He never married my mother, so I’m illegitimate. But I’m still his child. I have rights and he won’t recognize them. He treated my mother abominably, left her without a nickel. He had detectives watch me for years. Shenvair was one of them. He recognized my photos when I came here and met Targo. He remembered. He went up to San Francisco and got a copy of my birth certificate. I have it here.»
She fumbled at her bag, felt around in it, opened a small zipper pocket in the lining. Her hand came out with a folded paper. She tossed it on the table.
Conant stared at her, reached a hand for the paper, spread it out and studied it. He said slowly: «This doesn’t prove anything.»
Carmady took his left hand out of his pocket and reached for the paper. Conant pushed it towards him.
It was a certified copy of a birth certificate, dated originally in 1912. It recorded the birth of a girl child, Adriana Gianni Myerson, to John and Antonina Gianni Myerson. Carmady dropped the paper again.
He said: «Adriana Gianni — Jean Adrian. Was that the tipoff, Conant?»
Conant shook his head. «Shenvair got cold feet. He tipped Courtway. He was scared. That’s why he had this hideout lined up. I thought that was why he got killed. Targo couldn’t have done it, because Targo’s still in the can. Maybe I had you wrong, Carmady.»
Carmady stared at him woodenly, didn’t say anything. Jean Adrian said: «It’s my fault. I’m the one that’s to blame. It was pretty rotten. I see that now. I want to see him and tell him I’m sorry and that he’ll never hear from me again. I want to make him promise he won’t do anything to Duke Targo. May I?»
Carmady said: «You can do anything you want to, angel. I have two guns that say so. But why did you wait so long? And why didn’t you go at him through the courts? You re in show business. The publicity would have made you — even if he beat you out.»
The girl bit her lip, said in a low voice: «My mother never really knew who he was, never knew his last name even. He was John Myerson to her. I didn’t know until I came here and happened to see a picture in the local paper. He had changed, but I knew the face. And of course the first part of his name —»
Conant said sneeringly: «You didn’t go at him openly because you knew damn well you weren’t his kid. That your mother just wished you on to him like any cheap broad who sees herself out of a swell meal ticket. Courtway says he can prove it, and that he’s going to prove it and put you where you belong. And believe me, sister, he’s just the stiff-necked kind of sap who would kill himself in public life raking up a twenty-year-old scandal to do that little thing.»
The big man spit his cigarette stub out viciously, added: «It cost me money to put him where he is and I aim to keep him there. That’s why I’m in it. No dice, sister. I’m putting the pressure on. You’re going to take a lot of air and keep on taking it. As for your two-gun friend — maybe he didn’t know, but he knows now and that ties him up in the same package.»
Conant banged on the table top, leaned back, looking calmly at the blue gun in Carmady’s hand.
Carmady stared into the big man’s eyes, said very softly: «That hood at Cyrano’s tonight — he wasn’t your idea of putting on the pressure by any chance, Conant, was he?»
Conant grinned harshly, shook his head. The door at the top of the stairs opened a little, silently. Carmady didn’t see it. He was staring at Conant. Jean Adrian saw it.
Her eyes widened and she stepped back with a startled exclamation, that jerked Carmady’s eyes to her.
The albino stepped softly through the door with a gun leveled.
His red eyes glistened, his mouth was drawn wide in a snarling grin. He said: «The door’s kind of thin, boss. I listened. Okey? … Shed the heater, rube, or I blow you both in half.»
Carmady turned slightly and opened his right hand and let the blue gun bounce on the thin carpet. He shrugged, spread his hands out wide, didn’t look at Jean Adrian.
The albino stepped clear of the door, came slowly forward and put his gun against Carmady’s back.
Conant stood up, came around the table, took the Luger out of Carmady’s coat pocket and hefted it. Without a word or change of expression he slammed it against the side of Carmady’s jaw.
Carmady sagged drunkenly, then went down on the floor on his side.
Jean Adrian screamed, clawed at Conant. He threw her off, changed the gun to his left hand and slapped the side of her face with a hard palm.
«Pipe down, sister. You’ve had all your fun.»
The albino went to the head of the stairs and called down it. The two other gunmen came up into the room, stood grinning.
Carmady didn’t move on the floor. After a little while Conant lit another cigarette and rattled a knuckle on the table top beside the birth certificate. He said gruffly: «She wants to see the old man. Okey, she can see him. We’ll all go see him. There’s still something in this that stinks.» He raised his eyes, looked at the stocky man. «You and Lefty go downtown and spring Targo, get him out to the Senator’s place as soon as you can. Step on it.»
The two hoods went back down the stairs.
Conant looked down at Carmady, kicked him in the ribs lightly, kept on kicking them until Carmady opened his eyes and stirred.
NINE
The car waited at the top of a hill, before a pair of tall wrought-iron gates, inside which there was a lodge. A door of the lodge stood open and yellow light framed a big man in an overcoat and pulled-down hat. He came forward slowly into the rain, his hands down in his pockets.
The rain slithered about his feet and the albino leaned against the uprights of the gate, clicking his teeth. The big man said: «What yuh want? I can see yuh.»
«Shake it up, rube. Mister Conant wants to call on your boss.»
The man inside spat into the wet darkness. «So what? Know what time it is?»
Conant opened the car door suddenly and went over to the gates. The rain made noise between the car and the voices.