Parker waited a minute, then went down the hall and opened the door to Bronson’s den. Bronson was standing at the window looking out, his back to the door. Parker studied his back, wondering if there were any reason to spend time talking to Bronson first, and had just about decided there wasn’t any reason to, when Bronson turned around.
Bronson saw him, and gave a start, but recovered quickly. A bitter smile creased his lips and he said, “So you’re Parker.”
“That’s right.” Parker raised the .38.
But there was sudden motion to his right. He turned his head and saw Handy coming on the run. He stepped into the den, and Handy barrelled in after him, saying hoarsely, “They’re coming back up!”
Parker turned to Bronson. “Why?”
“What? Quill’s staying the night.”
“All right. Keep your mouth shut.”
Bronson shook his head. “No. I’ve been wondering if those bodyguards were any damn good. Now I’ll find out.” He raised his head and shouted, “Help!”
Parker shot in irritation and ducked back out to the hall. Behind him, Bronson sagged on to the desk.
Quill and one of the bodyguards were at the head of the stairs. They gaped at Parker and Handy, then turned to run back down again. Parker and Handy fired, but they’d both aimed at the bodyguard, so Quill got away, stumbling over the body which was rolling down the stairs.
“The wife!” said Parker. “Shut her up.”
“Right.”
Handy hurried down the hall and Parker went back into Bronson’s den. Bronson was lying on his face behind the desk. Parker checked him, but he wouldn’t need a booster. He straightened and took the phone off the hook, hoping there was only one trunk line in the house. If all the extensions were on the same line, no calls could be made.
Parker hurried back to the hall. Handy hadn’t come back yet. Parker ran down to the end, by the stairs, just in time to see the three bodyguards starting up. He fired, not hitting anybody, and they ducked back into the room where they’d been playing Monopoly. Parker knelt behind the railing and waited for Handy.
This was a good spot, for right now. Looking over the railing he could see straight down to the foot of the stairs, and across the main hall to the front door. He could also see the room where the bodyguards and Quill were holed up. He could keep them in there, unless they tried going out the window.
Somebody took a shot at him from the doorway down there. He ducked back, waited a beat, and leaned forward in time to see one of them making a dash across the hall for the room on the opposite side, hoping to catch Parker and Handy in a cross fire. Parker slid the nose of the .38 over the top of the railing, dropped the running man, and ducked back out of sight again. They were firing from the room on the right again, the bullets gouging the wall over Parker’s head.
Handy showed up, running in a crouch, ducking down to kneel beside Parker. “Tied and gagged,” he said. “What now?”
“Three left. Two bodyguards and Quill.”
“What about the back stairs?”
“I don’t want a chase. We finish them off in here, It’s private in here. No neighbours, no questions.”
“Okay.”
“Besides, we want time to go through the place. You don’t want to do this for nothing.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You stay here. Take a shot at them every once in a while. I’ll go down and around outside to the window.”
“Right.”
Parker slid away in a crouch and straightened when he was part way down the hall. He hurried to the far end, where he found the stairs that led to the back door. He started down them, and a sound made him stop. Somebody was coming in through the back door.
Parker waited. Whoever it was, he was being slow and cautious. Occasional faint noises told Parker where he was and what he was doing. He came in the back door, shut it carefully behind him, and then started up the stairs. Parker had shut the second-floor door behind him, so it was inky black in the stair well. He sat on the top step, the .38 in his right hand and the pencil flash in his left, waiting. Both were aimed down at the landing.
The man came slowly up the stairs, and finally reached the landing. He made the turn and started up the other half-flight towards Parker. Parker switched on the pencil flash. It was one of the bodyguards, staring up at him, blinded by the light. Parker fired, and the face fell away. He switched off the light and heard the bodyguard go crashing back down the stairs.
Parker followed him, hurrying. He’d been delayed too long. Handy would be wondering where the hell he was.
He went out the back door and around the outside of the house. He saw the open window the bodyguard had crawled through, trying Parker’s tactic in reverse. He moved up to the window, peered over the edge, and saw the two men inside. The remaining bodyguard was crouched by the doorway, peering out around the corner, an automatic in his hand. Quill was at the far end of the room, sitting in a leather chair, the briefcase on his lap. He had the blank expression of somebody in a waiting room.
Parker called to the bodyguard, “Drop the gun. Don’t turn around.”
But the bodyguard wouldn’t quit. He spun around, firing wildly, and Parker dropped him with one shot. Then he turned and showed the gun to Quill, resting it on the window sill. “Don’t move,” he said. “Don’t make any move at all.”
“I’m just sitting here,” Quill answered. He didn’t act particularly worried.
“Handy! Come on down.”
They waited, and, after a minute Handy came in, grinning. He looked around and said, “One more. There’s one missing.”
“I met him on the back stairs. Watch this guy Quill.”
“Right.”
Parker left the window and went around to the back of the house again. He entered and walked through the house to the game room where Handy and Quill were waiting.
Parker went over to Quill. “You know Karns?”
“Not personally. I’ve heard of him.”
“I hear he’ll be taking over.”
“Bronson’s dead?”
“I want you to give Karns a message from me.”
“I take it you’re Parker.”
“That’s right.”
“And since you want me to deliver a message, that means you’ll let me live?”
“Why not?”
Quill smiled. “Exactly. Why not?”
“You heeled, Quill?”
“A gun? I never carry one.”
“I didn’t think so. All right, the message. Tell Karns I’ll start getting in touch with my friends, telling them to forget the Outfit. But it’ll take a while. There’ll probably be a few more robberies before I can get in touch with everybody. This thing’ll be tougher to stop than it was to start. But that was Bronson’s doing, making me start it in the first place. I’ll stop it as soon as I can. You tell Karns that.”
“There may be some more robberies, but you’ll stop them as soon as you can?”
“That’s it. And tell him, if I have to, I can always start in again. And if I happen to be killed by the Outfit, my friends will even the score.” The last was a he, but Karns couldn’t be sure of it.
“I’ll tell him.”
“Good.” Parker turned to Handy. “I’ll keep an eye on this bird while you go through the house.”
“Right.” Handy pocketed his gun and left the room.
“Have you been masterminding these robberies?” Quill asked.
“No. My friends have been doing them on their own.”
“They’ve been very professional robberies.”
“My friends are very professional.”
“Yes, of course.”
They were silent then.
About ten minutes later, Handy came back. “I found a safe,” he said. He turned to Quill. “You know anything about it? What he might have in there?”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t know Mr Bronson that well.”
“I’d hate to take the trouble to go in there and not find anything but a lot of paper.” Handy shrugged. “I’ll take the chance.”