“Oh, him,” said Willie.
He swung the car out onto Highway 101, turning back toward the city.
“Look, mister,” said the man beside Peel, “this is a job of work, that’s all. We get paid for a job and we do it. There’s nothing personal to it. You got your job and we got ours.”
“What’s the price these days for knocking off a guy?”
“Huh?” The man beside Peel looked toward his buddy in front. “Get a load of this guy, he thinks we’re hoods.”
“Relax, chum,” said the thug in front. “We ain’t goin’ to knock you off. That’s murder and we ain’t getting paid that kinda dough.”
“What are you getting paid for?”
“You’ll find out. Now shut up, I gotta watch the road.”
16
They were clearing Agoura and the driver slackened his speed. Suddenly he swung across the road to the left, onto a paved road, which seemed to lead into the residential section of the tiny hamlet.
But after one block he made a left turn. The pavement expired in front of a gate. The road, two ruts in the earth, continued beyond the gate, running over the crest of a low hill. Willie stopped the car, got out and opened the gate. He returned, drove through the gate and stopped the car once more.
“They don’t like you to leave the gates open,” he explained.
He got out, closed the gate, then climbed back into the car.
The car continued on for a mile or so, the road winding and twisting as it followed the paths of least resistance. They came then to a second gate and again Willie went through the opening and closing procedure. The road continued now through a mile or more of a barley field, ran for another half mile along the side of a dry wash, then cut through a second barley field and came up to a third gate.
After passing the third gate, the road led up a rather steep hill, then dipped into a small valley. In the center of it stood a huge, unpainted barn and what Peel thought at first was a stately farmhouse. But as they neared he saw that the house was a mere front.
“The movie people use this,” the man beside Peel exclaimed. “The house is a phony, but the barn’s real — what there is of it.”
Willie stopped the car under a huge live oak. “End of the fine.”
They got out of the car. Willie looked at Peel and chuckled. “You can yell all you like. The main highway’s over there, behind the hills, but it’s two miles away and you couldn’t hear a cannon fired over here. There ain’t a house in three miles.” He paused. “How long before he’ll be here?”
The second man shook his head. “Ought to be here any minute.” He nodded toward the barn. “It’s cooler in there.”
“I like it better out here,” Peel said promptly.
The two men looked at him in disgust. Willie pointed his revolver at Peel. “You misunderstood us, chum. We don’t kill people, but that don’t mean we don’t put a slug into them now and then, like in the kneecap, maybe.”
Peel started quickly toward the barn. Willie chuckled. “A softie, Freddie.”
“Oh, well,” said Freddie, “we get the same money, soft or tough.”
Peel entered the barn. A pile of moldering hay was at the far side, but outside of that the barn was completely empty. It smelled, however, of horses which had apparently been stabled here in the recent past.
“To the right, laddie,” called out Willie.
Peel turned to the right and stopped before an open door that led into a room.
“In you go!”
He entered the little room. Willie and Freddie crowded in after him. The room was furnished with a cot on which was spread a khaki blanket, a chair and a small rough table. Burlap sacking hung over a window.
The door had oiled hinges and a bolt on the inside. A lock hung from a hasp on the outside.
“Sit down,” Freddie invited, pointing to the cot.
“No, wait a minute,” said Willie. He put away his gun and stepped up to Peel. “This is extra.”
He thrust his hand into Peels right trouser pocket. Brought out a couple of keys and a laundry bill. He threw them to the floor, tried the left pocket and came out with a fistful of bills and small change.
“Jeez!” he cried. “Look at this!”
“Hundreds!” yelped Freddie.
They counted out Peel’s money. “Two hundred and fourteen bucks and seventy-five cents,” exulted Willie.
“A hundred and seven for each of us.”
“That’s more’n we’re getting for the job. Mister, you a banker?”
“I work for that money,” snarled Peel.
“So do we,” snapped Willie. “You think our line is easy?” He turned to Freddie. “Let’s toss for the odd seventy-five cents.”
“I got a better idea,” said Freddie. He brought out a pair of dice. “High roll gets it.”
He handed the dice to Willie. Willie shook them up, then rolled them out on the floor. They came up eight. Freddie rolled a ten and took the seventy-five cents. Then he looked at Willie. “We got some time to kill. How about it?”
Willie dropped two dollars from the roll he had taken as his share of Peel’s loot. “Fade that.”
Freddie dropped two bills and handed the dice to Willie. The latter rolled them up.
“Snake eyes.” cried Freddie.
Willie swore roundly. “Shoot a fin.” He threw down a five-dollar bill. It was faded and Willie rolled out an ace-deuce. He let out a howl. “What’s the matter with these dice of yours?” He threw down the hundred-dollar bill. “Shoot ten of this!”
“Roll ’em out,” said Freddie.
Willie made a ten, then sevened out and kicked the dice across the little room. Freddie retrieved them. “Shoot out the ten?”
“Go ahead,” snarled Willie.
“You fellows are having a lot of fun with my money,” said Peel. “The least you could do is let me in on the game.”
“With what?” sneered Freddie. “We already got your money.” He threw out the dice and they came up seven. “Shoot the twenty?” he asked Willie.
“Shoot and be damned!”
Freddie rattled the dice in his fist and threw them out. Six-five. Willie let out a scream. “That’s forty in the bill. Shake them up this time and roll them out.”
Peel looked thoughtfully at Willie’s right coat pocket. It was sagging from the weight of the gun. He edged a step closer.
“Coming for the eighty,” Freddie sang out. He gave the dice a mighty rattle, rolled them out. Four-three.
Willie screamed and Peel lunged forward and thrust his hand into Willie’s coat pocket. He got his hand on the gun, had it half out, when Willie caught his wrist, jerked out Peel’s hand from his pocket and, stooping, threw Peel over his shoulder.
Peel landed heavily on his back, the breath knocked out of him. Willie stooped, grabbed a handful of coat front and pulled Peel to his feet. He smashed his fist into Peel’s face.
“Try to pull a fast one, will you, you weasel?”
Peel crashed against the wall on the far side of the room, slid to a sitting position. Willie started across the room to Peel, but Freddie stopped him. “I’m eighty in the piece. Shoot out the other twenty?”
Willie stopped, glared at Peel, then down at the hundred-dollar bill on the floor. “Shoot!”
Freddie grinned wickedly, threw a four. “You want to lay the odds?” he asked.
Willie cursed roundly, then reached into his pocket. “I got seven bucks of my own money. I’ll lay it against five.”
“You’re on,” said Freddie and promptly threw a pair of deuces.
Willie let out a wail, then recovered. “I’m getting a hundred for this job.”
“Uh-uh, cash, no credit.”
“We get the money as soon as the boss gets here.”
“Then we’ll play.”
Willie was about to argue further, but the humming of an automobile motor came over. He sprang to the window. “He’s here now.”