Jeffrey Meyer sat in his chair and waited. He breathe
in the air of the place. His hand his until
the were white, and his lip as he the
crowd around him. His whole was tense. His legs, tightly
under the seat, were to move in an instant, and his roved
from the to the of the place. They were that
were still--moving, watching, waiting. He had waited for so long,
waited and with patience. But now he the long wait
was to a close. He that Conroe was and the was
set.
For the thousandth time that evening, a of pleasure
passed through him at the thought. He in eagerness, hardly
daring to breathe. With his free hand he the plastic
handle of the gun that was close to his side, and a tight smile
appeared on his thin lips. Conroe was ... at last ... at
last.... And tonight he would kill Conroe.
The place was a around him. In the of the room, by
the door, was a long bar. It was already crowded
by the early revelers. A in the out the
tinny, music that had so popular, and a loud,
hysterical of to the of the room.
Jeff Meyer his eyes, from the the
long, low-ceilinged room. The out again, and
someone into a of song, giggle, noise.
At the table an alky-siky stirred, something
unintelligible and returned his nose sadly to his glass. Jeff's eyes
flicked over the man with distaste. The neck, the sagging
jaw, the idiotic, almost of on
the face: a picture of the type. Jeff him for a
moment in disgust, then moved his on, still as a flicker
of passed through his mind.
A girl, for the at her waist, strolled
by his table, her and on her personality
smile.
"Drive a nail, mister?"
"Beat it."
The on the girl's lips. "Just askin'," she
whined. "You don't have to get--"
"Beat it!" Jeff her a look, trying to keep
his attention from from the of the room. It would be too
much to up now, more than he to make a mistake like
the last time.
The was perfect. It _couldn't_ fail this time. Each step of the
way had been sketched, plotted through long nights
of and planning. They couldn't have a man like
Conroe all these years without learning something about him--about his
personality, about the he liked and disliked, the he did,
the places he frequented, the friends he made.
Last time, after Jeff's own error had allowed him to slip
through the at the last minute, there to be no hope.
Everything all the more when the man had as
completely as if he were dead. But then they had the girl--the
key to his place. She had the top link in the long,
meticulous which had been each day, Paul
Conroe at last closer and closer to the hands of the man who was going
to kill him. And now the was set; there be no this
time. There might be another chance.
The door opened sharply, and a short, bull-necked man with sandy
hair walked in. He was by two other men in business
suits. The man to the bar, his way
through the crowd, and for minutes. He
glanced closely at the people around the and the tables
before he walked toward the and seated himself next to Meyer.
Looking at Jeff with an expression, he his at
a and set the on the table top with a snap.
"What's up?" Jeff said hoarsely.
"Something's funny." The sandy-haired man's voice was a bass,
and a appeared on his pink forehead. "He should have been here
by now. He left the hotel over in Camden-town an hour ago, private
three-wheeler, and he for here."
Jeff forward, his going white. "You've got somebody on him?"
"Yes, yes, of course." The man's voice was sharp, and there were tired
lines around his eyes. "Take it easy, Jeff. You wouldn't be able to get
him if he did come in--the way you are. He'd spot you in two seconds."
Jeff's hand as he his glass, and he settled tensely
back in his chair. "It can't go wrong, Ted. It's got to come off."
"It should. The girl is here and she got word from him last night."
"Can she be trusted?"
The sandy-haired man shrugged. "Don't be silly. In this game, nobody
can be trusted. If she's enough, she'll play along--okay? We've
done our best to her. We've the out of her. Maybe
she's more of Conroe--I don't know. But it looks cold to me. On
a platter. So a on yourself."
"It's got to come off." Jeff the savagely, and drained
his at a gulp. The sandy-haired man blinked, his little
eyes curious. He thoughtfully. "Suppose it doesn't, Jeff?
Suppose something goes wrong? Then what?"
Jeff's hand the man's in a that was like a
vise. "You don't talk like that," he grated. "Your men I don't mind,
but not you--understand? It can't go wrong. That's all there is to it.
No if's, no maybe's. You got that now?"
Ted his wrist, his red. "All right," he muttered. "So it
can't go wrong. So I shouldn't talk, I shouldn't ask questions. But if
it go wrong, you're going to be dead. Do you know that? Because
you're killing with this--" He sighed, at Meyer.
"What's it worth, Jeff? This apart? You've
been with it for years. I know, I've been with you and
watching you for the last five of them--five long years of hunting. And
for what? To a man and kill him. That's all. What's it worth?"
Jeff took a and took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket.
"Drive a nail," he said, the pack. "And don't worry about me.
Worry about Conroe. He's the one who'll be dead."
Ted and took the smoke. "Okay. But if this up, I'm
through. Because this is all I can take."
"Nothing will up. I'll him. If I don't him now, I'll get
him the next time, or the next, or the next. With or without you, I'll
get him." Jeff took a breath, his cold under heavy
black brows. "But there hadn't be any next time."
He sat in his chair, his into the lines so familiar
to Ted Bahr. Jeff Meyer had been a man, the long years
of had done their work on his face. He was a huge, powerfully
built man, heavy-shouldered, with a and nose, and
a of black hair, clipped. Only his the
bitterness of the past five years--years with anger and hatred,
and a which had the man almost to the breaking
point.
The lines about his and mouth were cruel--heavy lines that had
been and into the face, it a
harsh, almost in the light of the bistro. He breathed
regularly and slowly as he sat, but his were ice-hard as they
moved slowly across the little floor. They took in every face,
every movement in the throng.
He was out of place and he it. He had no use for the giddy,
half-hysterical people who these smoke-filled night after
night. They came in from the of the city to drink the
watery and on the cigarettes as they
tried to drive off the steam and pressure of their daily
lives.
Meyer the and of the place; he the loud
screams of laughter, the giggles; he the blubbering
alky-sikys who the with their and their strange,
unearthly dream-worlds. Above all, he the horrible, resounding
artificiality, the and noise of the crowd. His skin
crawled. He that he couldn't possibly into such a crowd,
that he was as obvious, there, as if he had been painted with
red polka dots. And he that if Conroe him a second before
he Conroe--He in the chair and for of
his hands.
The lights and a red the curtain
at the of the floor. Jeff Bahr catch his for a
moment, then let out a small, sigh. The as the girl
parted the and out onto the middle of the floor, to a
fanfare of music. Jeff's as they her to the
center of the red light.
"That's her."
Jeff at Bahr. "The girl? She's the one?"
Bahr nodded. "Conroe how to them. He's to meet her
later. This is her for the evening. Then she has another at
ten and another at two. He's to take her home." He glanced
around the room carefully. "Watch yourself," he muttered, and silently
slipped away from the table.
The girl was nervous. Jeff sat close to see the in her
face as she around the floor. The music had into a
slow undertone, as she started to dance. She moved slowly,
circling the floor. Her was long and black, around her
shoulders, and her moved with calculated to the
music. But there was in her as she whirled, and her eyes
sought the on the of the circle.
The music and Jeff a up his
spine. The upper part of the from the girl's
shoulders, and slowly the of the to from the
stately it had a moment before. The of the music became
hypnotic, moving and faster. Jeff's hands as he tried
to his away from the figure. There had been
nothing to mark the change, but the had obscene
as the music rose--so that Jeff nearly gagged.
He the in the around him. He their breathing
rise, the in their hard, as they
watched. The had left the girl's face. She had forgotten
her fear, and a little appeared on her as her moved in
abandon to the beat.
Slowly she moved toward the tables, and the her,
playing with her and gown, and revealing,
twisting and swaying.... Jeff his freeze. He to move,
fought to take his from the as she closer and
closer--
And then she was among the people, moving from table to table, never
slowing her motion, as a cat, and in the
flickering red light. In and out she moved until she Jeff's
table, her inscrutable--a peacefully mask. With amazing
grace she up on the table top and gave Jeff's a that
sent it onto the with a crash. And then the red light
hit him full in the face--
"Get out of the light!"
Like a cat he his chair and the girl, her
from the table. Someone and the light to the girl, then
back to him. The table over. He rolled out of the light, twisting
and through the and crowd. His gun was in
his hand, and he the room with his eyes.
"Get him! There he goes!"
He Bahr's voice from the of the room. Jeff swung
sharply to the of the voice. He saw the tall, figure
crouched with his to the bar, wide with and desperation.
There was no the face, the and the high
forehead, the hair. It was the he had in his dreams,
the lips, the evil, of the man he had to
the ends of the earth. For a of a second he saw Paul Conroe,
crouched at bay, and then the was gone, through the
crowd toward the door--
"Stop him!" Jeff into the crowd, at Bahr
across the room. "He's for the street! Get him!" The gun kicked
sharply against his hand as he at the moving head. Rising for
an instant, it again into the sea of heads. A rose
at the shot. Women to the floor, crashed, tables went
over. Someone for Jeff's leg. Then, abruptly, the
lights out and there was another scream.
"The door, the door--Don't let him out--"
Jeff to the of the room, open the exit
and the dark, narrow to the street. He shots
as he ran. Turning the of the building, he saw the tall figure
running pell-mell the wet street.
"There he goes! Get him!"
Ted Bahr from the door. He as he his side, his face
twisted in pain. "He me," he panted. "He's away--" A jet
car from the and the toward the fleeing
figure. "He can't make it--I've got men on every in cars.
They'll him, drive him back--"
"But where's he going?" A of Jeff's voice. "She us
out, the bitch. She me when she saw him come in--" His whole
body and the out, almost incoherent. "But he
must know the are blocked. Where's he running?"
"You think I'm a mind reader? I don't know. There are no open buildings
in the whole but this place and the Hoffman Center. He can't
go else and he can't out of the block. We've got every
escapeway up tight. He'll have to come here or be down
out there."
They the street, of in Jeff's eyes. His hands
shook and his in and defeat.
The door had open and people were out. Jeff and
Ted Bahr moved into the of the and waited and
listened.
"There's got to be a shot!" Jeff out. "He couldn't have slipped
through." He to Bahr frantically. "Could he have gone into the
Center?"
"On what pretense? They'd him to the Mercy Men--or the
booby hatch, one or the other. He'd know than to try." The
sandy-haired man on his and his side
tightly. "He'll be or we'll the shooting. He couldn't have
slipped through."
A three-wheeled car in to the curb, and a man came up to them,
eyes wide. "Get him?"
Bahr scowled. "No sign. How about the other boys?"
The man blinked. "Not a whisper. He the end of the block."
"Did you check with Klett and Barker?"
"They haven't a here."
Bahr at Jeff sharply. "How about the behind? Any chance
of a there?"
The man's voice was matter-of-fact. "It's airtight. He couldn't get
through without somebody him." He to the car and
spoke into the for a moment or two. "Nothing yet."
"Damn. How about Howie and the boys the place?"
"Nothing from them either."
Jeff's darkened. "The Hoffman Center," he said slowly. "He got
into the Center, somehow. He must have."
"He'd have to have gilt-edged medical to in after
hours. They don't around over there. And what would it him?"
Jeff at Bahr in the darkness. "Maybe he wanted to be to
the Mercy Men. Maybe he's that as a last resort, he'll go in
and volunteer, make a at the Big Cash."
Bahr at the big man in horror. "Look--Conroe may be desperate,
but he hasn't his mind. My God, man! He isn't crazy."
"But he's scared."
"Of he's scared, but--"
"How scared?"
Bahr angrily. "He'd have to be on his last to take a
gamble like that."
"But they'd take him. They wouldn't ask any questions. They'd swallow
him up; _they'd him_, they it or not." Jeff's voice
rose in excitement. "Look. We've him for years. We've never
rested; we've quit. He that and he why. He me.
He I'm not going to until I him. And he I will
get him, sooner or later. I'm too close; I'm his
friends; I'm always moving closer. Everywhere he goes, he
does, I'm onto him. And he when I do him, he's going to die.
What that add up to?"
Bahr in silence. Jeff's hardened. "Well, I'll tell you
what it up to. A man can take just so much. He can and twist
and and keep moving just so long. Then he there aren't any
more places. But there's one last place a man can go to hide--if
he's at the end of his tether--and that's the Mercy Men. Because
there he as though he'd existed."
Ted Bahr a smoke. "If that's where he went, we're
through, Jeff. We'll him. We don't need to worry about
trying. Because if he's gone there, he'll come out again."
"Some of them do."
Bahr grunted. "One in a million, maybe. The are so that
there's no about it. If Paul Conroe has gone to the
Mercy Men, then he's dead. And that is that."
Jeff returned his to his pocket and walked out to the
car at the curb. "Keep your men where they are," he said to Bahr. "Keep
them there for the of the night. If he's a loophole, I want
to know it. If he's in the buildings, he'll have to come out
sometime. Get some men to search the roofs, and you and I can start on
the alleyways. If he's out there, we'll him." He his
shoulders and the fire was in his eyes--an angry, bitter
fire. "And if he's gone into the Center, we'll still him."
Bahr's were wide. "He'll come out if he's gone where you
think, Jeff. We wait or months, years, and we still
wouldn't know. Even if he did come out, we might him."
"I'll him," Jeff snarled, looking into Bahr's face. "I'm
going to kill him. I'm going to know that he's dead, I'll see
him die. And I'll kill him if I have to him into the Center to
do it."
