Hardy hesitated. He was horribly aware that Jacko and Moe, in the bedroom, were listening.
“I tell you I haven’t seen them for a couple of days,” he said finally.
“Too bad... for you,” Lepski said and moved quickly to the brief-case, picked it up, snapped open the lock and emptied its contents on the settee.
Hardy cursed and moved towards Lepski who turned and grinned savagely at him.
“Want a poke in the kisser, Hardy?” he asked. “What’s all this money for?”
“It’s betting money.” Hardy said. “Now, get out of here!”
“I guess I’ll look the joint over before I go,” Lepski said. “Just in case...”
“Not without a warrant!”
“I can get one, but I’ll look now.”
“You do it and I’ll see you lose your badge,” Hardy said. “I mean just that!”
Lepski knew he could get into trouble if he searched the penthouse without a warrant. Hardy had connections with people important enough to put him in Dutch.
“Then I’ll get a warrant. I have a couple of men outside. Why waste time, if you have nothing to hide?”
“Get out of here!” Hardy repeated.
Lepski shrugged.
“Okay, but I’ll be back.” He started towards the door. “Remember, there are two of my men outside. You stay right here until I get back.” As he passed Val, he took a firm grip on her arm. “Let’s go, Miss Sherrek. I have a story for you...”
Hardy and Gina stood motionless, watching Lepski lead Val out of the penthouse. Lepski closed the door behind him.
Williams, sweat beading his face, drew in a long slow breath of relief at the sight of Lepski.
“Okay?” he asked, staring at Val.
“I don’t know. You stick here,” Lepski said. “Don’t let anyone out. I’m getting a warrant. If anyone tries to leave, get tough. Me and the little lady are going to headquarters. You’ll have the boys with you in ten minutes.”
Williams gulped.
“Ten minutes?”
Lepski moved Val to the elevator.
“That’s what the man said.” He nodded and thumbed the button. The doors swished to and the elevator began its smooth descent.
“Just who are you?” Lepski said, staring at Val with his hard cop’s eyes. “You’re not Mary Sherrek. I know her... so who are you?”
“There was a mistake,” Val said, fighting her panic. “That man thought I was Miss Sherrek.”
“You don’t work for the Miami Sun. I know all the dopes on that rag,” Lepski said. “You’ll have to come to headquarters, baby. The Chief will want to talk to you.”
Val controlled the urge to run. She stiffened and gave Lepski a cold stare.
“If you must know: I am Mrs. Valerie Burnett. My father is Charles Travers. You may have heard of him. I am not going with you!”
Lepski recognised her then. He felt as if he had stepped on the teeth of a rake and had the rake handle slam him in the face.
“I didn’t know,” he said, sure Terrell would skin him if he caused trouble with the daughter of Charles Travers. “I’m Sorry.”
Val forced a smile.
“It’s all right,” she said and walked quickly out of the lobby. Lepski followed more slowly. He saw her wave to a taxi, get in and the cab drive away. The Patrol Officer joined him.
“Stick right here,” Lepski said. “There could be trouble. Williams is up there. I’m getting a search warrant. Watch it!”
Leaving the Patrol Officer staring after him, Lepski sprinted for his car.
Jacko came out of the bedroom. His fat face was running with sweat: his mean little eyes vicious.
“Let’s have the money,” he said. “We’re off!”
“You heard what he said,” Hardy exclaimed. “You can’t go that way. There are cops out there!”
Moe slid into the room.
“No cop is stopping us,” he said. “Let’s have the dough.”
“You can’t do it!” Hardy said, trying to control the quaver in his voice. “You start shooting and they’ll know I’ve been hiding you. We’ve got to think...”
“Shut up!” Jacko snarled. He waddled over to the settee and began cramming the money into the brief-case. He mapped the case shut, then took Hardy’s gun from his hip pocket and gave it to Moe.
“Now, wait... for God’s sake!” Hardy said.
“The girl...” Jacko jerked his head at Gina.
“You leave her alone...” Hardy began when Moe reached him. Moe hit him on the side of his head with his gun barrel. Hardy went down on hands and knees.
As Gina opened her mouth to scream, Jacko dug a hard fat finger into her stomach. She jack-knifed forward, gasping. He grabbed her and shook her viciously. The smell of stale sweat coming from him sickened her.
“Shut up!” he said. “You go out there and talk to the cops. You make one false move and you’ll get a second navel! Out!”
He gave her a shove towards the door. She staggered, recovered her balance, then under the threat of Jacko’s gun, crossed the lobby. Jacko and Moe followed her. Jacko motioned her to open the front door. She hesitated, then opening the door, she stepped into the corridor.
Williams, gun in hand, gaped at her. Sweat beaded his face, his mouth was dry. He was scared out of his wits.
Gina stood staring at him.
“Get back!” Williams said. “You stay right in there... go on... get back!”
Then Moe like an evil black ghost, slid around the doorway and his gun spat flame.
Williams didn’t even see him. He felt a shocking thump in the middle of his chest and the gun slipped out of his hand. He went down, his face scraping along the lush carpet of the corridor. He came to rest at Gina’s feet. For a long moment, he twisted and turned, then he became still. Gina clapped her hands across her mouth and backed away from Moe who come further out into the corridor, his black eyes rolling, his mouth a vicious line. He paused to make certain there was no other cop in the corridor, then he moved into the elevator. Jacko came waddling out, carrying the brief-case. He was panting, his face ashen. He threw himself into the elevator as Moe groped for the button.
Hardy, rolling on his side, looked through the open doors of the lounge and the front door. He saw Jacko’s massive body against the grill of the elevator. He pulled his borrowed gun from his hip pocket and fired in one lightning movement. The gun exploded as the elevator doors swished shut.
Falling on her knees, Gina began to scream.
Moe heard the shot and saw Jacko heave back. He watched with horrified eyes the great mountain of fat slowly collapse like a stricken elephant. He saw the splash of blood below Jacko’s left hand shirt pocket. He didn’t have to touch Jacko to know that Hardy had killed him. Shuddering, his black face glistening with sweat, his lips drawn off his teeth, Moe snatched up the brief-case.
As the elevator came to rest and the doors swung open, Patrol Officer Jamey, gun in hand, came rushing blindly into the lobby. The two men fired simultaneously. Jamey’s slug nicked Moe’s left ear. Moe’s slug took Jamey squarely between the eyes. Jamey went down like a pole-axed bull.
The sound of the shooting brought people out on to the street. Cars stopped. Two or three women began to scream.
Moe, panting, ran down the corridor to the basement stairs. The Janitor, poking his head out of his office, saw him, gave a smothered yell and threw himself flat on the floor. Moe swept past him and down the stairs.
Cursing, Moe blundered along a dimly lit corridor as the approaching sound of Police sirens added to his panic. He reached a door, pulled back two bolts, dragged the door open and stepped into hot sunshine and a narrow alley that led to the waterfront. He ran down the alley, paused at the end of it and looked back. There was a woman leaning out of a window in the apartment block, staring down at him: a fat, middle-aged woman with blue dyed hair. As she saw him look at her, she started back and began to scream.