The Golden Gizmo (11 page)

Shake was holding a blackjack-upswung, ready to strike. Donald had the Mexican attendant backed against the wall, the point of his knife pressing against his throat. The door of the restroom was barred.

"Just don't try nothin'," murmured Shake. "Jus' don't try nothin' at all. You get past us, which you ain't goin' to do, I got two of my
pachucos
outside."

"Someone'll be coming back here." Toddy's voice sounded strange in his ears. "You can't keep that door barred."

"I c'n keep it barred long enough. Turn around."

"You tailed me down here?"

"What does it look like? Turn around!"

The blackjack came down sickeningly on Toddy's shoulder. He turned.

Shake slapped his pockets expertly, located his wallet, and extricated it with a satisfied grunt. There was a moment's silence, another grunt, and another command to "Turn around."

Toddy turned.

"What you doin' here?" Shake demanded. "What's the deal?"

"Deal?"

Donald ripped out a curse. "Let him have it, Shake. We can't wait here all day."

"No one's tryin' to bust in," Shake pointed out, his eyes fixed on Toddy. "I asked you what the deal was?"

Toddy licked his lips, wordlessly. Helplessly. The blackjack began to descend.

"
Wait!"
It was the Mexican attendant. "I will tell you,
Seсores!
" His teeth gleamed at Toddy in a warm, placating smile, a grin of apology. "I am sorry,
Seсor
, but it is best to tell them. These gentlemen mean business."

Donald nodded venomously. "You ain't just woofin',
hombre
. Spill it!"

"But you must know, gentlemen. What else would it be but-but-"

"But what?"

"White stuff," said Toddy, taking the Mexican off the limb. "As my friend says, what else could it be?"

Donald sneered. Shake gave Toddy a look of mock sanctimoniousness. "I might of knowed it," he said. "A man that'll murder his own sweet little wife an' play mean tricks on people that trust him won't stop at nothin'. Dope, tsk, tsk. You smugglin' it across the border?"

"Not at all," said Toddy. "I use it to powder my nose." He fell back from the blow of the blackjack, and Shake advanced on him. "Okay," he wheezed. "Be smart. Be good an' smart. It's gonna cost you enough. Where you got the stuff hid?"

"I"-Toddy's eyes flicked around the room, settled momentarily on one of the elevated water chambers, and moved back to Shake- "I've got it cached out in the country a few miles."

"The hell you have-" Donald began. But Shake interrupted him.

"You give yourself away, Toddy. You're losin' your grip. Get up there an' get it."

"Up where?"

"You better move!"

"Okay," sighed Toddy. "You win."

With Shake at his heels, he stepped into the first of the toilet enclosures and gripped the top of its two partitions. He gave a jump, swung himself upward, and got a knee over one of the partitions. Grasping the pipe which ran from the flush chamber to the toilet, he pulled himself up until he stood straddling the enclosure.

Donald issued a curt command, and the Mexican hastened to lie down in the adjacent booth. Then the little shiv artist crowded in next to Shake, holding his knife by the blade.

"Don't try nothing'," he warned. "I can't reach you but the knife can."

"Yeah," said Toddy. "I know."

He gripped the ends of the heavy porcelain lid of the water chamber. Grunting, he moved it free and edged backward.

"Have to help me with this," he panted. "It's-"

"Now, wait a-" wheezed Shake. And Donald's knife flashed with the swift action of his hand. But he was too late. They couldn't stop what Toddy had started. They couldn't get out of the way.

"-heavy!" said Toddy. And he hurled the heavy lid downward with all his might.

It caught Shake full in his fat upturned face, one end swinging sickeningly against the bridge of Donald's nose. They sprawled backwards out of the enclosure, and Toddy scrambled down hastily from his perch.

He need not have hurried. The Mexican attendant, apparently, had exactly anticipated his actions. Now he was on his feet, administering one of the most thorough, expert yet dispassionate kickings that Toddy had ever seen. It was a demonstration that would have been envied even by Shake's
pachucos
.

Not a kick was wasted. Each of the two men received two kicks in the guts, by way of obtaining temporary silence. Each received a kick in the temple, by way of making the silence more or less permanent. Each received three kicks in the face as a lasting memento of the kicking.

"
Bien!"
said the Mexican, smiling pleasantly at Toddy. "I think that is enough, eh?" Then he bent over the motionless thugs, stuffed their wallets and Toddy's inside his shirt, and picked up the knife and blackjack.

"I have been put to much trouble," he beamed. "You do not mind the small present?"

"That money," said Toddy, "is all I have."

"So? You want it very much,
Seсor?
"

"I guess not," said Toddy. "Not that much… How do I get out of here?"

"The table,
Seсor
. Drag it over to the window… You will excuse me if I do not help? It is an easy drop to the alley."

Toddy nodded, dragged the table to the window, and stepped up on it-deliberately destroying as much of the display as he could.

"It is all right,
Seсor
," the Mexican laughed softly. "Everything is paid for."

"Yeah." Toddy grinned unwillingly. "What happens to these characters? And their
pachucos?
"

"People come back here," the Mexican explained, "but no one go out. So, soon, very soon, my father will be alarmed."

"Your father?"

"The bartender, Seсor. He will summon my brother, the waiter, who will call my two cousins, officers of the police…"

"Never mind." Toddy hoisted himself into the window. "I know the rest. Your uncle, the judge, will give them ninety days in jail. Right?"

"But no,
Seсor
"-the Mexican's voice trailed after Toddy as he dropped into the alley-"he will give them at least six months."

Toddy plodded down the alley to the street, lighted the last of his cigarettes, and threw the package away. He thrust a hand into his pocket, drew it out with his sole remaining funds. Sixteen cents. Three nickels and a penny. Not enough to-

A hand closed gently but firmly over his elbow. A blue-uniformed cop looked down at the coins, and up into his face.

"You are broke,
Seсor?
A vagrant?"

"Certainly not." Toddy made his voice icy. "I'm a San Diego businessman. Just down here for a little holiday."

"I think not,
Seсor
. Businessmen do not take leak in alley."

"But I didn't-" Toddy caught himself.

"For vagrancy
or
leak," said the cop, "the fine is ten dollars. You may pay me."

"I-just give me your name and address," said Toddy. "I'll have to send it to you."

"Let's go," said the cop brusquely, in the manner of cops the world over.

Toddy started to protest. The officer immediately released his grip, unholstered a six-shooter, and leveled it at Toddy's stomach.

"We do not like vagrants here,
Seсor
, even as you do not like them in your country. A ver' long time ago I visit your country. I am a wetback, yes, but no one care. The lettuce must be harvest' and I work very cheap. Then I complain I do not get my wages an' I am sick from the food-
cagada
, dung-and everyone care ver' much. I am illegal immigrant. I am vagrant. I go to jail for long time… It is good word, vagrant. I learn it in your country. Now move.
Anda!
"

The gun pointing at his back, Toddy preceded the cop down the side street, across the main thoroughfare, and so on down another side street. Tourists and sightseers stared after him-curiously, haughtily, grinning. Mexican shopkeepers gazed languidly from their doorways, the dark eyes venomous or amused at the plight of the
gringo
. Toddy walked on and on, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the walk immediately in front of him. He knew something of Mexican jails by reliable hearsay. When you got in down here, brother, you were in. The length of sentence didn't mean a thing. They took weeks and months, sometimes a year, to get around to sentencing you. They just locked you up and left you. And-
and Shake and Donald!
… Toddy's step faltered and the cop's gun prodded him… There wasn't a chance that he could persuade the two thugs to play quiet. They'd squeal their heads off about Elaine's death and the supposed dope racket, and- Somewhere a horn was honking insistently. Then a car door slammed, and Dolores called, "
Un momento!"

The cop grunted a command to halt, and swept off his cap. "
Si, Seсorita?"
he said. "
A servicio de
-"

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence, or any of the several others he started. After three minutes of Dolores' rapid Spanish, he was reduced to complete silence, answering her torrent of reprimand only with feeble shrugs and apologetic gestures.

At last she snapped open her purse and uttered a contemptuous "
Cuбnto?-
how much?" The cop hesitated, then drew himself erect. "
Por nada
," he said, and walked swiftly away.

Toddy said, "Whew!" and, then, "Thanks."

The girl nodded indifferently. "I must go now. You are going with me?"

Toddy said he was. "Shake and his boys were trailing me. I-"

"I know; I saw them enter the bar. That is why I waited."

"It didn't occur to you," said Toddy, "to do anything besides wait?"

"To call the police, for example? Or to intervene personally?"

"You're right," said Toddy. "Let's go."

As they neared the international border, Dolores took a pair of sunglasses and a checkered motoring cap from the glove compartment and handed them to him. Toddy put them on, glanced swiftly at himself in the rear-view mirror. The disguise was a good one for a quick change. Even if his mug was out on a pickup circular, he should be able to get past the border guards.

He did get past them, after a harrowing five minutes in which the car was given a perfunctory but thorough examination. He had to get out and unlock the trunk compartment. On the spur of the moment-since he had neglected to do so sooner-he had to invent a spurious name, birthplace and occupation.

He was sweating when the car swung out of the inspection station and onto the road to San Diego. As they sped past San Ysidro, he removed the cap and glasses, mopped at his face and forehead.

"I am sorry," said Dolores, so softly that he almost failed to hear her. She was looking straight ahead, her eyes intent on the road.

"Sorry?" said Toddy vaguely.

"You are right to be angry with me, to be suspicious. What else could you be? Except for me you would not have been involved in this affair."

Well, Toddy thought, she'd called the turn there. But what he said, mildly, was, "Forget it. I was asking for it. A guy like me wouldn't feel right if he wasn't in trouble."

"Wouldn't he?"

Toddy looked at her, looked quickly away again. She couldn't mean what she seemed to, not with Elaine murdered and himself the principal suspect. That, and everything else that was hanging over him. Of course, she wouldn't be any angel herself but… But he couldn't think the thing through. It was a hell of a poor time to try to.

"I don't know," he said shortly. "Probably not."

"I see." Her voice was flat.

"I"-Toddy hesitated-"maybe. It would depend on a lot of things."

Toddy sat in the front room-a room as sparsely furnished as the one in Chinless' Los Angeles dwelling. He had been sitting there alone for some fifteen minutes. As soon as he and the girl had arrived, Alvarado had spoken rapidly to her in Spanish-too rapidly for Toddy's casual understanding of the language-and she had gone down the hallway toward the rear of the house. Alvarado had followed her, after politely excusing himself, and closed the door; and dimly, a moment later, Toddy had heard another door close. Since then there had been silence-almost.

It seemed to Toddy, once, that he heard a faint outcry. A moment later he had thought he heard the dog bark.
Thought
. He wasn't sure. He strained his ears, held his breath, listening, but the sounds were not repeated.

Toddy waited with increasing uneasiness. In the far corner of the room was a desk littered with papers. When he and Dolores had arrived, Alvarado had been working there, and something about the sight had given Toddy an inexplicable feeling of danger. He wanted to get a better look at those papers. He wondered whether he dared risk the few steps across the room and a quick glance or two.

He decided to try it.

Rising cautiously, an eye on the hall door, he tiptoed across the floor and looked swiftly down at the desk. The papers were covered with rows of neatly written figures, interspersed occasionally with what appeared to be abbreviations of certain words. They were meaningless.

"Meaningless, Mr. Kent," said Alvarado, "unless you have the code book."

He came in smiling, closing the door behind him, and crossed to the desk. He picked up a small black book that had been lying face down and riffled its pages of fine, closely printed type.

"This is it. Regrettably, it is much too complex to explain in the brief time we have."

"Better skip it, then," said Toddy, matching the other's irony. And as he resumed his seat on the other side of the room, Alvarado chuckled amiably.

"A man after my own heart," he declared, sitting back down at the desk. "I cannot tell you how disappointed I am that we shall not work together… For the time being, at least."

"No?" Toddy crossed his legs. The air was heavy with perfume. Alvarado apparently had doused himself with it.

"No. Unfortunately. But we will come to that in a moment. I have had you visit me so that I might explain-explain everything that may be explained. You are entitled to know; and, as I say, I hope we may work together eventually. I did not wish you to be left with an unfavorable opinion of me."

"Go on," said Toddy.

"After I dispatched you to Tijuana, I communicated the fact to our supplier of gold… the man I suspected of killing your wife. He, reacting as I believed he would, ordered you murdered. To be slugged and disposed of permanently as soon as it was expedient. As soon as the first half of the order was carried out, I intervened. I had the proof I wanted."

"Proof?" Toddy frowned. "I don't get it."

"But it is so simple! He killed your wife-I was certain-merely as a means of disposing of you. He hoped to involve you, and through you me, in a crime which would break up our syndicate and release him from duties which have long been onerous to him. Now you understand?"

"No," said Toddy. "I don't."

"But it is-"

"Huh-uh." Toddy shook his head. "Up to a point, I'll buy it. He killed Elaine. I thought you'd done it. If I played the cards he gave me, I'd have either gone after you myself or hollered to the cops… But I didn't do that. You and I squared our beef. He didn't have a thing to gain by getting rid of me in Tijuana."

"Hmmm." Alvarado drummed absently on the desk. "I see your point. It was stupid of me not to think of it… Of course," he added, smoothly, "I was not completely sure of this man's motive. There was a strong possibility that he might have been motivated by revenge."

"Remember me?" said Toddy. "I'm supposed to be the bright boy. So stop kidding me… This guy tried to get me killed; I'll go along with that. And when he did he proved that he'd killed my wife. Why? I'll tell you. Because he was sure that, given a little time, I'd be able to dope out who he was. You were sure I would, too, and, until you got your orders from abroad, you had to protect his identity. You had to pin the rap on him good before I did too much thinking."

"Really, Mr. Kent…"

"That's the way it was. That's the way it has to be. Now why beat around the bush about it?"

Alvarado stared at him thoughtfully, a quizzical frown on his pale shark's face. Then, gradually, the frown disappeared and he nodded.

"Very well, Mr. Kent. I suppose there really is no longer need for secrecy. The man you mention has served us well… in the opinion of my superiors. He is now closing out his affairs and will soon be out of this country. Possibly-probably-we will find use for him elsewhere. But that is no concern of yours. Lone before you can discover his identity and confirm it, he will be beyond your reach."

Amazement choked Toddy for a moment. He could hardly credit himself with hearing the words that Alvarado had spoken. Before he could find his voice, the chinless man was speaking again.

"I can well understand your confusion, Mr. Kent. I share it. But there is nothing I can do about it. Our entire hypothesis was wrong. This man we suspected did not kill your wife."

"You're lying!" Toddy snapped. "Murder or no murder, this guy is valuable to your bosses. They're going to protect him at all costs. That's the whole story, isn't it?"

"It is not. My bosses, as you call them, do not act so whimsically. The man was able to prove, irrefutably, that he did not kill your wife. As an unfortunate result, our superiors retain their original high regard for him while I- for the moment, at least-have been made to appear a clumsy and vindictive fool."

"You're forgetting your lines," Toddy said grimly. "A minute ago you were saying that-"

"I was speaking in theoretical terms. Like you, I was speeding down a trail of theory and I am at a loss when the trail disappears."

"My getting slugged wasn't any theory!"

"Be grateful you were not killed, and dwell no more on the matter. Nothing good will come of it."

Hands shaking, Toddy lighted a cigarette. After an angry puff or two he ground it out beneath his foot. Alvarado nodded sympathetically.

"You are annoyed. I am withholding information which you feel is vital to you. Does it occur to you that I might easily be annoyed with you for much the same reason?"

"I'm not holding back anything."

"Knowingly, no. And I am not doing so willingly."

"I don't," said Toddy, "get you."

"You yourself had the best opportunity to kill your wife. You had ample motive, also. You are not the type to kill with premeditation, but I can readily imagine your doing so in a moment of temporary insanity. And since such a crime is inconsistent with your nature, your conscious mind would refuse to admit it… All this is conjecture, of course. I know nothing. I want to know nothing."

Toddy laughed shortly. "Tell me why I was slugged. Maybe I'll sign a confession, then."

"You invite the obvious retort, Mr. Kent. Tell me how you disposed of your wife's body and I will tell you why you were slugged."

Toddy stared at him helplessly. "You don't believe that," he said. "You know I didn't kill her. Maybe this guy, the supplier, didn't do it either, but-"

"He didn't."

"Then, what's it all about? What are you trying to steer me away from?"

Alvarado shook his head. Turning back to his desk, he opened the code book. "So that is the way it is," he murmured. "You will excuse me if I work while we talk."

Toddy started to speak; his hand started to knife out in a gesture of angry exasperation. The gesture was unfinished. He remained silent-staring, trying not to stare.

That code book was in unusually fine print. And yet Chinless was studying it without difficulty and without his glasses. He couldn't be-shouldn't be-but he was. What the hell could it mean? Why had he claimed that his eyes were bad right from the moment of their first meeting? Why had he pretended that he couldn't read Milt's card? What reason was there-

"Now," said Alvarado, "let us leave theory to the theorists and take up practical matters. As I indicated, we are ceasing activities in this country indefinitely; but we hope to resume them. When that time comes we can find a profitable place for you…"

"Suppose I don't want it?"

"That is up to you. We have no fear of your talking."

"All right," said Toddy, "I'm listening."

"There is a Pullman train leaving here tonight; what you call a through train. I have reserved you a stateroom. It will not be necessary for you to leave that stateroom until you arrive in New York. You will be given a thousand dollars in addition to your passage. That should maintain you in some degree of comfort until I get in touch with you."

"How will you do that?"

"A detail. We will work it out before you leave. Does the idea, generally, please you?"

"It doesn't look like I have much choice," said Toddy. "I want to know why you're jumping the country, though. I'm hot enough without getting any hotter."

"You will not be. I, at this point, am the sole recipient of the heat. The informer in our midst has chosen to make no mention of you to the authorities."

"Informer? Who is he?"

"That need not concern you." Alvarado turned a page of the code book and ran a pencil down the column of symbols. "This informer is one of our unwilling operatives. We were able to obtain his"-Alvarado slurred the pronoun-"cooperation through a brother, a political prisoner in one of my country's excellent labor camps. It was necessary for the brother to die. Our confederate discovered the fact through a relative. He made the very serious mistake of confronting me and charging bad faith."

Toddy nodded, absently. He was staring at the code book, at Alvarado. Something warned him to look away, but he couldn't. "I see," he said. "You knew he'd turn stool pigeon."

"He already had," grimaced Alvarado, "though I was unaware of it until yesterday. I had assumed that his tirade against me was immediately subsequent to the news of his brother's death. Then, through a slip of the tongue, he revealed that he had known of it for a month. He had known of it but said nothing, continued the regular course of his affairs, until his sense of outrage overcame his discretion. Obviously, he had done so for only one reason… You followed me, Mr. Kent?"

Toddy didn't speak. Alvarado looked up from the desk.

"I am boring you, perhaps?"

"What?" Toddy started. The answer had come to him at last, at the very moment of Alvarado's question. A beautifully simple yet almost incredible answer. "I don't quite get it," he said, with forced casualness. "This guy has squealed. Why haven't the Feds moved in on you?"

"Because they hope to trap the man who supplies our gold. He is to meet me here-or so I advised our informer-tomorrow night. The efficient T-men will not come near the place, nor do anything else to arouse my suspicions, until then."

Toddy nodded absently, his mind still working on the riddle of Alvarado's "bad eyesight."… Let's see, he thought. Let's take it from the beginning. I gave him that frammis about a friend sending me to him, and then I gave him the card. He let me into the house. Then… well, I didn't have much to say for a minute or two, and he began to freeze up a little. Asked me my business. Said he couldn't read the card. He must have, but-

Toddy started slightly.
Why, of course! Chinless had thought he'd been sent there to the house. When he discovered the truth, that their meeting was sheer accident, he had pretended that
…

The chinless man looked down at the code book. He looked up quickly, and his gaze met and held Toddy's. A frown of regret spread over his dead white face.

"Well?" said Toddy.

"It is not well," said Alvarado, and his hand dipped into his pocket and came out with the automatic. "You have an expressive face. Like our informer, Dolores, it tells too much."