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Call in the Feds. Gordon Landsborough
Читать онлайн.Название Call in the Feds
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781434447395
Автор произведения Gordon Landsborough
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство Ingram
Lanny’s voice clipped, “Who says I feel friendly, seeing you beating up an old guy like that? I’m gonna book you, so get moving out to the car.”
Two more apes came in from the workroom that overhung the creek. One was carrying a shotgun with a splintered stock. Lanny thought: So that’s it. They’re wrecking the place. They don’t want an armed Vigilance Committee here in Freshwater.
But Alastair Myrtle didn’t turn a hair. He said, “My lawyer will want to know the charge, so let’s be knowing it now.”
Lanny’s eyes glinted. He’d had truck with Boss Myrtle’s brother before. “I’m booking you on a charge of assault.”
Alastair Myrtle turned with infinite leisure, surveyed old Jules and then looked at his companions. He said, with an air of surprise, “Now, that beats everything. Nobody’s been assaulted here, has there?”
His apes relaxed into confident grins and shuffled with awkward good-humour while they shook their heads. Jules didn’t say anything. Alastair Myrtle spoke to him directly.
“You don’t say anything, Stedmann. But you don’t remember seeing anyone assaulted, do you? Better think carefully before you answer.” The voice was pleasant, but there was a leavening of significance in the tone, and Jules got it first time.
He lifted his head tiredly. “No,” he said. “Nobody ain’t bin beat up that I remember. Ain’t bin no assault, captain....”
He said it even though he could hardly get the words through his bruised mouth, and then he sagged again and passed out.
Lanny said. “Intimidation of a witness, huh? Well, you’re still going through on a charge of assault, Myrtle. Three witnesses saw you beating up this old man—me and my men. We don’t need Stedmann’s corroboration. Now, get moving!”
Alastair Myrtle shrugged resignedly, and without any apparent loss of equanimity he went out to the police car.
An hour later Lanny was summoned to the police chief’s office. The chief, an old man brought up in the school of crooked Tammany politics, announced abruptly, “You’d better withdraw your charge against Alastair Myrtle, captain.”
“Why?” Lanny’s narrowed eyes were hostile.
The chief leaned forward heavily. “Because you might as well. You’ll never make it stick. There’s only your word against half a dozen witnesses who’re saying you’ve been imagining things.”
“Myrtle and his apes?” Then softly, because he knew the answer—“But what about Sergeant Gillis and the patrolmen? They saw as much as I did.”
The chief looked at a lot of things around the room and then suddenly his eyes came back and met his subordinate’s. Harshly he said, “They tell me they never saw a thing. Stedmann says he fell down the stairs and some customers were giving him treatment when you came in. Gillis says all they saw was Stedmann being supported by Myrtle’s men. So your charge wouldn’t stick, captain.”
“I get it.” Lanny rose slowly. He looked very big silhouetted against the wide window that overlooked the bay. He said, “Myrtle—or his brother—have got at my men.”
The chief said, unpleasantly, “Better be careful what you say, captain.”
Lanny put his hands on the desk, and leaned forward so that his hard grey eyes were within inches of his chief’s. His voice had the bite of a hand saw. “Chief, you know it as well as I do. They’ve been got at. And it isn’t the first time Boss Myrtle’s racketeers have twisted the law as they wanted it. This town’s sick of graft and corruption and they won’t stand for much more. They think so little of Freshwater police that they’ve revived the old Vigilance Committee—and those old-timers mean business. Well, I’m with them, and by God, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to run the whole stinking mob in!”
He strode across to the door, then paused. When he turned his face was hard. “Maybe you’ll pass that message on to Boss Myrtle,” he said bitingly.
It stung. The chief came leaping out of his chair, glaring.
“By God, captain, I won’t stand for that sort of talk. Are you saying I’m in Myrtle’s pocket?”
It was bluster, and both knew it. Lanny just growled a contemptuous, “You should know,” and went out.
And now Sergeant Pedersen was telling him that the Myrtle Machine was after him—out to remove him because of that threat he had made to his chief.
He got into his car. Pedersen lingered even then. And then, just as he was about to be driven away, Pedersen stooped and said, softly, “Captain, if there’s a jam, count on me. I’m sick to hell of this graft. And there’s a few boys I know you can depend on.”
Lanny’s hard face relaxed into a grim smile. “Thanks, sergeant. That’s something to remember, I guess.”
The radio was talking. They listened. “Captain Just to report immediately back to HQ. Captain Just to withdraw the Vigilance pickets right away.” The message was repeated.
Pedersen gave a tight grin and said, “This is it, captain. Betcha that’s the squeeze starting right away.”
He saluted and walked quickly away. Lanny nodded for the car to start. The radio was talking again.
A Pontiac with shattered windows and a crumpled front had been found down by the pier head. A patrolman had found witnesses who had seen five men get out and walk quickly away. They gave pretty good descriptions, and these came over the air in a general broadcast to all cars.
They were driving back to town as the news came over the air. Lanny at once started giving orders.
All roadblocks should move in on the town, tightening the net. Vigilantes would also move up with the police, he ordered.
His men looked quickly at him when he gave this latter order, but it went out all the same. The driver said, “HQ?”
Lanny said. “No, we’re going into the old town, round the seafront. We’re gonna comb through the dives and doss-houses and see if we can drive these gunnies into the open.” Then he grinned. “I never heard that order, and maybe you’d like to forget you heard it, too.”
The men just looked ahead and said nothing. Lanny thought: It’s hell, not being able to trust your own men.
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