Lady, Here's Your Wreath (9 page)

     
     FAINTLY, IN SOME bottomless pit, I could hear a woman screaming. I didn't care much, until the screams got louder, then I wished she would stop.
     I opened my eyes and looked round. The flickering light of a candle that seemed to be floating above my head worried me, and I shut my eyes again. The woman who had been screaming had stopped. I thought that was a good thing. I tried to move my hands, but I found I was unable to do so. I began to take an interest in myself.
     I opened my eyes again. Then I remembered. It was like having a pail of water tossed in my face. I tried to sit up, but they'd tied me. My head ached, but every second it was getting clearer. I always did say my skull was tough.
     I was lying on the floor with my hands knotted behind my back with some thin twine that cut into my wrists. It hurt like hell.
     Above me a solitary candle burnt. It was stuck on the mantelshelf, and its light sent dancing shadows round the room.
     Cautiously I pulled myself up into a sitting position. The blood drummed in my head and I had to shut my eyes and take it easy for a bit. Then I got on to my knees and climbed to my feet. They hadn't tied my legs. I took a few steps up and down the room, to get my circulation working. In a minute or two, but for a headache, I was feeling fine.
     Just then the door opened and the tall, thin guy walked in. He came in with a little limp, and he stood just inside the door and looked at me.
     “H'yah, Gus,” I said, “I thought you'd broken your neck.”
     In the flickering light Gus would scare most people. He'd got a completely flat face with small eyes and a little screwed-up mouth. The bones of his face seemed to be doing their best to burst through his lead-coloured skin. The bridge of his nose had been surgically removed.
     He came into the room and shut the door. He shut the door very slowly and deliberately. I had a feeling that he and I were not going to hit it off.
     He said, “I've got a way with wise guys.” His voice had the whine of a run-down gramophone. “You won't be so snotty when I've been through you.”
     I moved slowly away from him. “Now don't do anythin' your ma wouldn't like to hear about,” I said. “Suppose you an' I talk things over.”
     I was putting a lot of pressure on that twine, but it was so thin that it threatened to cut right through my wrists.
     He followed me right across the room, until my back came against the wall with a little jar. I could just make out a little grin on his face as he swung at me.
     I timed the blow and shifted my head. His fist sailed past, scraping my ear. His left followed that, but I twisted and took it on my shoulder. For a thin, miserable-looking guy, he'd got plenty of steam in his punches. I knew I wasn't going to keep this up for long.
     Along came his right again, moving like a steam pile for the centre of my face. I bent my knee and dropped my head on to my chest. His fist parted my hair. Then I came up quickly, and dug my knee in his stomach. Can you tie that? This punk let me give him one like that.
     He made a row like a deflated tyre and went over backwards. I wasn't going to sit around and nurse him. Stepping back, I took careful aim and kicked him on the side of his head as hard as I could. Over he went, his arms flung wide. That kick was a good one. He stayed right where he was.
     I stood over him to hand him some more, but he was past caring about me. When I was sure he was out for keeps, I pulled my hands under me and stepped through my wrists, bringing my hands in front of me, instead of at the back. I examined the twine carefully. I looked at the candle and decided to have a try. I burnt myself once or twice, but I got free. The twine snapped after the third application to the flame. I rubbed the life back into my wrists and scratched the back of my head.
     On the face of it, it looked like I'd only got the fat guy to worry about. I knelt beside Gus and went through his pockets. I should have felt a lot easier if I could have turned up a gun. But I didn't find one.
     Having made sure, I stood up and walked softly to the door. I reckoned that I could take the fat guy on if I surprised him. I found I still had my torch. Moving softly, I slid out into the passage. I stood there listening. If I'd got my bearings right, Mardi should be behind the door on the far end of the passage. I walked quietly down and listened.
     Just as I had my head almost touching the door, a sudden wild scream made me jerk back.
     I almost burst in, but stopped myself in time. The idea was to get the fat guy to come out to me. I raised my hand and rapped on the door sharply. Then I stepped away to the head of the stairs and flattened myself against the wall. The passage had a sharp bend, so I was fairly under cover.
     There was a moment's silence, then a light appeared. I crouched down to afford as small a target as possible, and prepared for trouble.
     Nothing happened. I went lower still and moved a little to the bend. I wasn't risking anything, so I just stretched my ears. I could hear the fat guy wheezing. He, too, must have been listening, and wondering what it was all about. “Gus?” he croaked. “That you, Gus?” He sounded like he was scared.
     I let the silence worry him. He came out into the passage and stood just outside the door. The light was behind him. By keeping close to the wall and peering round the bend, I could just see him; at the same time I was out of his sight.
     He raised his voice. “Gus,” he shouted, “I want you.”
     I very softly tapped on the ground with the butt of my torch. I made just enough noise for him to think he'd heard something, but not enough for him to be sure. I could see him cock his head, then with a grunt he moved towards me. I waited for him patiently, my muscles tense. Just when I was sure I'd get him, he stopped and stepped back. Maybe his good angel had tapped him on his shoulder. He went back into the room quick and shut the door.
     Was I pleased! I couldn't afford to wait any longer. I told myself I had to go on in there and chance getting into trouble.
     Just as I was getting set, I heard the sound of a bell ringing somewhere in the house. That stopped me. I beat it down the passage quick to the room where I had left Gus. He was still lying on his back, dreaming sweet dreams.
     The bell rang again impatiently. This was serious. If more of the boys were arriving, it looked like I was in for a siege. I stood by the door, listening. The fat guy finally made up his mind to make the trip. I heard him open his door and step into the passage. I could see the flicker of a torch coming slowly along.
     Would he look in and see if all was well here? If he did, I should have to start something. If he didn't and went downstairs, it might give me enough time to get in that front room and see what was going on in there.
     While I was thinking this out, he decided things for me. I saw the handle of the door suddenly move, and I knew he was going to have a look. I had no time to clear Gus out of the way. He lay in full view in the light of the candle. I stepped hastily behind the door and waited. The door opened softly and the fat guy put his head round. It would have been funny if I hadn't been in such a jam. He just stuck his head round the door and his eyes lighted on Gus.
     I didn't give him a chance to get set. I flung my weight on the panel of the door, crushing his head. He looked like a side-show. His eyes popped and they rolled round until they lit on me.
     “Relax, brother,” I said, and hit him on his chin with a nice roundhouse swing that had everything I'd got packed into it.
     The punch connected on his button with a crisp click. The jar of the blow ran right up my arm and I lost most of the skin off my knuckles. His eyes went blank and I slackened my weight on the door; down he went like a stricken elephant.
     I jerked the door open and stepped over him. The bell rang again furiously, and someone began to drum on the door. I ran my hands over him and found his gun. It was a .45 Smith & Wesson. A nice argument in any rough-house.
     Boy! Did that gun feel good in my hand!
     The hammering and ringing off stage packed up suddenly. That meant they were nervous of waking up the neighbourhood and were going to get in through a window. I didn't kid myself that they would go home.
     I dived out into the passage and burst into the other room. Now I was expecting to find Mardi there. I already had visions of being quite the hero in her eyes. I went so far as to imagine that she would sink into my arms, so it set me back a long way when I saw Blondie sitting there.
     Blondie? Can you tie that? There she was, tied hand and foot to a chair. Her eyes were brooding sudden death and her general expression like a tigress about to start something.
     I stopped in my tracks. “Well, for the love of Mike!” I said.
     She was as startled as I was. “Get me out of here,” she said hoarsely.
     It was when she spoke that I saw she had been having a bad time. Some guy with more imagination than the milk of human kindness had been giving her the works. I could see the bruises on her face, and a Short length of rubber hose lying at her feet told me things, too.
     I went behind her and sawed through the twine with my knife. “This gets me,” I told her as I worked. “I've been knocking guys all over the house an' riskin' my skin because I thought I was helping a girl friend of mine... now I find it's you.”
     She didn't say anything, but the way her breath whistled through her nose told me she was plenty mad.
     I had to move quickly. I just didn't know how long those guys downstairs would be before they walked in on us. As soon as I had got rid of the twine, I jumped to the door.
     “Get a little life into your limbs,” I said to her as I went. “We gotta get out of here quick.”
     I gumshoed to the head of the stairs and looked over. There were two guys coming up. They must have heard me, because they snapped out their light quickly. I swung the .45 and fired one shot, making sure that I didn't hit them.
     The way those two fell downstairs to get out of the way made me laugh. I shouted down to them, “Don't come up. I want to be alone.”
     Then I beetled back to Blondie very quietly. She was standing up rubbing her wrists. Her mouth was set in a thin line. That dame didn't look scared, she was just mad..
     “Next floor,” I said briefly. “As quiet as you like.”
     She took a few hobbling steps forward and then she stopped. She began to curse. I hastily grabbed her arm. “Pipe down,” I said. “What's up? Are you hurt'?”
     She tried to move forward again, but stopped once more. Her big white teeth chewed her lip. “I can't make it,” she said jerkily.
     I didn't bother to argue, time was pressing. I gave her the fireman's hoist and started up the other flight of stairs. Carrying a dame of Blondie's build up thirty stairs is hard labour. Along with the feeling that some guy is going to open up with a popgun and perforate your pants it's plain hell. By the time I got on to the next landing, I was sweating hard.
     Once I got up there, I used my lamp. The landing was similar to the downstairs one. The same number of doors. I entered the back room and dumped Blondie down on the floor. “Try an' snap out of it,” I said. “We ain't home yet.”
     I went out on to the landing again, leaving her the lamp. Then I leant over the rail and fired a shot down into the darkness. I thought maybe those guys down there wanted a little scare. I got one myself. A gun exploded out of the darkness and I felt the wind of the bullet close to my face. I jerked back, then shifting my position I fired once more, this time straight down the stairs.
     Two guns replied, and if I hadn't been lying flat on my face I should have stopped something. These guys knew too much about shooting to please me. I crawled into the room and shut the door softly.
     Maybe they wouldn't try to rush the place for a little while. I wasn't sure how many slugs I'd got left, and I thought I'd better save what I'd got.
     Picking up the torch, I examined the room. The first thing the spot-light fell on was a heavy cupboard. I went across and pulled it from the wall.
     Blondie climbed to her feet and moved over to me. Although her face was twisted, I'll say she was game.
     “Take it easy,” I said to her. “I can manage this... you nurse yourself.”
     Her reply was unprintable. That's the advantage of meeting up with a dame like Blondie. You don't have to worry about your manners. She and I got the cupboard across the room and against the door. It would hold it for a little while.
     I went to the window and looked out. Below was the black river. I could just make out the oily reflection from the overcast moon. It looked a hell of a way down.
     I turned back. “Can you swim, sister?” I asked.
     “Yeah,” she said, “but I ain't swimming in these clothes.”
     That's a woman!
     I lit a cigarette. “Unless the cops move in... it looks like you'll have to,” I said. “These guys outside mean business.”
     She came over to the window and, brushing past me, she looked out. I could smell her scent. She turned round and looked at me. “It's a long way down,” she said. There was just a faint quaver in her voice.
     I told myself that whatever else she was, she'd got plenty of guts. “Don't you worry about that,” I said. “You just push yourself off... it ain't anythin'. I'll be right behind you. I guess you don't want to face up to the slugs instead, do you?”
     She pulled a zip on her dress and stepped out of it. Then she kicked off her shoes. Blondie was the sort of dame that always wears black undies. I could just make out the faint white of her shoulders and that was all.
     Three violent reports sounded outside the door and I heard the bullets smack against the wall opposite. Then someone began to heave against the panels. It was time we got going.
     “Come on, baby, it's cooler outside,” I said. “Sit on the sill and hang your legs outside.”
     She climbed up and I held her until she was steady, then she sat down, her legs in space. With my hands on each side of her hips, I felt a little shiver run through her. “Keep your nut,” I said softly in her ear. “I'll be right after you. Just take a deep breath... off you go.”
     I shoved her off the sill and leant out to watch her go. Down she went into the darkness and I heard a loud splash. Then I vaulted after her.
     Was that water cold? I seemed to go down for hours. Then just when I thought maybe I'd go on for ever, my head broke the surface. I shook the water out of my eyes and looked around for Blondie. I couldn't see her for several seconds, but then at last I made out a bobbing head several yards to my right.