The Vampire Files - Bloodlist Part 23

"Ever hear of Lucky Lebredo?"

"No."

"He's a local gambler, owns part of the Nightcrawler."

"He owns a worm?" I said blankly.

"It's a nightclub," he said, pained. "Used to be a big speak, then it went in heavy on the gambling when he got part of it."

"Illegal, of course."

"Is LaGuardia Italian? Anyway, he's a name here to some people, but keeps a low profile and stays out of the way of the gangs, so not many people know him or his piece of the club."

"So what's this about, Benny?"

"Did Rosie tell you what I do for a living?"

"She said you were a locksmith," I replied with a straight .face.

"Rosie's a swell gal."

"Benny-"

"Okay! I'm getting to it. I have to take advantage of an opportunity when it comes up 'cause there ain't that many of them these days for locksmiths. I gotta flop with this friend of mine, and every Wednesday he has room in his place for a big-time poker game. These guys use thousand-dollar bills like other people use matchsticks.

Sometimes the game goes on for days. It's usually out-of-town guys lookin' for some fun, and there's different ones every week, but Lucky never misses a game. He's a real crazy when it comes to poker and he always wins."

"I've heard of people like that."

"You gotta see to believe this guy. I swear, one week he went home eighty thousand dollars ahead. You gotta figure he don't declare that on his income tax."

"How is it they let you in on this game?"

"I don't play. My friend tells 'em I'm a bodyguard. He lends me a gat for the duration and I hang around and look tough. Some of these rubes even believe it, they treat me like Capone himself, and they tip good to boot. Anyway, I keep my eyes open and one night I decide to follow Lucky home, just to protect him, you understand."

"I understand.""Well, he goes on into this house, and for a guy with that much money it ain't much of a house, so I figure he must have piles of it lying around unspent and unprotected. Maybe he might like to hire someone to guard it for him when he's out."

"And you decided to apply for the job?"

"Naturally, but the next night when I went back he was gone, maybe off to the club, but I tried the door, anyway, and imagine my surprise when it just opened right up. I thought maybe something might be wrong inside, so I had a good look around to make sure there wasn't no burglars."

"Go on."

"Thank goodness there wasn't and a good thing, too, because-I swear this is the truth-he walked out the door and left the safe wide open. I mean, how careless can you get?"

"Tsk-tsk. Very careless."

"Now, I thought it would be a shame if all that cash were to disappear into the wrong hands, so maybe I should take care of it for him."

"Very thoughtful of you."

"I thought so, too. There were a lot of large bills there and I don't have nothing to carry them in, so I pull out this big envelope from the safe that looks empty. There's only two sheets of paper inside, they don't take up any room, so I start stuffin' money into it and the whole kit and kaboodle leaves with me. When I get back to my flop I count things out and that's when I get a good look at those sheets of paper."

"What was on them?"

"They look like some kid was playing with a typewriter. Both sheets are covered with a lot of punctuating junk and numbers top to bottom, both sides of the pages. I figure right away it's some kind of code, and I like puzzles, so I try to solve it."

"And?"

"And it wasn't so easy, but I did it, and the stuff on those pages is enough to blow this state wide open."

"What is it, then?"

"A blackmail list. The names are big ones, ones you wouldn't expect to be there. It gives the names, where they live, the location of the stuff that's against them, everything. I checked."

"Oh come on, Benny.""I swear! I got it with me and now I gotta get rid of it."

"Why? And why me?"

" 'Cause you're not on the list, 'cause you're new in town, and none of these mugs know you."

"What mugs?"

"One of Lucky's boys and others. They're with the Paco gang, they been after me for days, I can't get outta town. They've got the stations covered. I can't buy a car, boat, or bicycle without them finding out."

"And you want to foist this off on me? Turn it in to the cops."

"Don't you see anything? There's cops on the list-judges, lawyers, newspaper people-anybody with something to hide is on it. They'd bury it and me, too, if I went to them. I tried. But you're clean, you can do something with it, you can make a story out of it."

"What do you want from me?"

"Just some help getting out of the city. I can take care of myself from there."

I'd always been an idiot when it came to thinking out the long-term consequences of snap decisions. "What have you got planned?"

"You're a square guy, so I can trust you. I give you a couple of notes and you go buy a car for me, but in your name, then all we gotta do is drive outta town. You drop me in some burg in the next state, then I'm on my own and can lam it from there. For that, you keep the car and the list. Lucky and his boys don't know you from whosis, so you'll be safe, too."

"That sounds okay to me. When?"

"Right now. I gotta get out today before my nerves go. Take a turn into that alley ahead and wait for me. If things are clear, I'll be there in a minute."

I went into the alley, walking half its length before stopping and turning around.

It was dim and quiet. I took off my hat and wiped at the sweatband with a handkerchief. My only company was a one-eared cat picking through the garbage.

Down the middle of the alley ran a trickle of water, and overhead someone's laundry hung dejectedly in the still air. I hoped Benny would hurry.

Long before I thought of leaving, his scrawny figure appeared at the other entrance. His gait was a peculiar hopping walk, as though he were about to break into a run and always changed his mind at the last second. He hitched up close, puffing with his eyes darting all over in nervous jerks. He was looking down at the heels for all the dough he claimed to be holding and had the calm demeanor of a chain smoker who'd just run out of cigs."Now we gotta be careful," he warned me, and gave me a thousand-dollar bill.

"Is this for real?" I'd never seen one before.

"Like Sally Rand's feathers. You might want to change it for smaller bills, but you can get a really good car with it. I can't cash 'em myself on account of I don't look that respectable enough, but for you it'd be easy."

Not that easy, but maybe if I changed into my better suit I could pa.s.s muster at any bank. "Okay, now where's the list?"

"Right here and welcome to it." He pulled out two sheets of paper folded double and gave them to me. I opened them up. As described, they were solid with typed symbols and numbers.

"How do I read this stuff?"

"It's easy, just subst.i.tution-"

Someone coughed off to the left. It was an oddly regular cough, coming three times very close together. Benny's small body jerked and three large red holes appeared in his head, chest, and stomach. He fell into the dirty little stream on his side and lay oblivious in the water, pop-eyed and forever surprised.

I won't defend my reaction, if it was cowardice or self-preservation, but I hurtled out of that alley and into the street as though my a.s.s were on fire.

Terror is a great stimulant. Three long blocks later I was still pelting down the sidewalk at full steam, leaving a trail of disturbance and sometimes destruction as I negotiated obstacles in my path. I never looked back. The temptation was there, but it would have cost me speed and headway. I just couldn't take the risk. Heat and lack of endurance took their toll, though, and I was forced to slow down; my pa.s.sage through the afternoon rush was too noticeable, anyway. I ducked into a big department store and tried to collect myself while still moving.

The list and the thousand-dollar bill were still in my hands. I tucked both away into my wallet and thought about calling for a cop. That might be a bad idea, though, since as a witness I was no good. I had, G.o.d help me, seen Benny die, but hadn't even glimpsed his killer. There could be more than one, from his talk. What story could I give, anyway? That I had accepted money from a thief to help him out?

The truth wouldn't do at all, and from experience I knew I was a lousy liar. I kept moving, hoping to come up with some plan before somebody aced me.

I was just starting to feel safe and looked around. Even as a stranger to the city I had no trouble recognizing them. I'd seen the type in lineups in New York. They could look like anyone physically, but there was a hard-to-define att.i.tude that set them apart from ordinary people. A predator's hardness, perhaps, but I had no time to a.n.a.lyze the quality because they were coming after me.

I located the back exits, tore through the stockrooms, upsetting employees, and burst outside onto a narrow street where freight trucks made their deliveries. The street ran into a larger one, with more people and hopefully safety. I heard feet pounding behind me and dived into the crowds.

We played this game for nearly an hour. There were five of them, three on foot and two in a dark green Ford that followed me after I jumped into a taxi. They were smart and certainly professionals. I was a stranger in their territory and really didn't stand much chance of getting away, but had to keep trying to avoid Benny's fate.

I thought of dropping the stuff in plain sight. Perhaps that was all they were after, and I was too unimportant to bother about. It seemed right, but there was absolutely no indication they would be so cooperative. I kept going.

I was getting very tired. The taxi dropped me on Michigan Avenue, though it had given me a small respite, I'd have to go to ground soon. I needed time to rest and think and a safe place to do it in. That's when I looked up and saw the ma.s.sive limestone structure of the Chicago Public Library. Libraries had often been quiet sanctuaries for me, so I went in.

The first floor was useless, too open, full of newspapers and people reading them.

I took to the stairs. The second floor was a haven for civil War relics, but not for me.

I puffed up to the third landing and was greeted with the welcome sight of rows and rows of bookshelves. Like a fish returning to water, I slipped between their ranks and found a vantage point where I could watch the avenue and the stairs.

I owed the taxi driver a medal for losing the Ford long enough for me to get to cover. Far below, its green roof cruised up and down the avenue for half an hour before they gave up and moved on. No dangerous-looking types came inside and I relaxed and retreated deep into the shelves.

First I'd get rid of the list, then I'd get out of town until things cooled off; maybe even go home for a while and rest. I could write up a detailed account and send copies to the local D.A., the Feds, the papers, anybody I could think of who might be wondering who b.u.mped off Benny O'Hara. It might not do any good, but it was as much as I was willing to risk at the moment. Seeing a man getting shot to pieces under your nose will take the starch out of anyone's backbone, and I never thought of myself as particularly brave. The last few hours had been so frightening I was ready to quit the papers altogether and go back to helping Dad at the store.

At the moment, though, I was getting hungry and felt that the promised hamburger was long overdue. The mind deals with the shocks, but the body goes on prosaically dealing with the basics of living.

Standing on my toes, I placed the two sheets of paper on the top of one of the shelves in the back. The aisle was clear, no one had seenme. I made a note of which section I was in, and left, knowing they were safe as they'd ever be.

I found a back stairway and used it to make my cautious way into the street again.

The coast looked clear, no green Fords, no hard men, but I kept pace with the thickest parts of the crowds for many long blocks before relaxing enough to find a cafe. A small, busy place called the Blue Diamond smelled good so I went in and managed to get a table at the back. I ordered steak with everything instead of a burger, and while I ate I made notes on a napkin about what happened in my personal shorthand. I stalled over the meal, drinking coffee and having an extra dessert so as not to put off the waitress. When it was dark I left her a good tip and ventured into the streets.

Taxis cost, but walking back to the hotel was too much for my feet. Besides, I had no idea where it was, just the name of the street it was on. I gave it to the driver and hoped he'd take a straight route. It didn't take long, he knew his business and dropped me at the right corner as far as I could tell, although it seemed different in the dark. I was still nerved up and tired, a bad combination.

I kept my eyes open, but wasn't too worried. The men who chased me couldn't know where I was staying since Benny had been so careful. Poor Benny.

And then it was poor me.

Two of them appeared out of nowhere. They must have been watching the whole street knowing I might come back. I was practically lifted from my feet and trotted forward. The green car came up, a door was pulled open, and I was hustled inside.

The whole operation didn't take more than five or six seconds and I was being driven off to parts unknown.

The three of us staged an impromptu wrestling match in the backseat as I did my best to get out and they did their best to prevent it. Once I managed to get my hand on the door lever, but a fist hit the side of my head and another one gouged my kidneys.

"Hey, settle down back there!" the driver growled.

A few more hits and I was in no condition to continue the argument. They shoved me on the floor and kept me there facedown, their heavy feet resting with some force on my back and legs. I was dizzy from the punches and scared, and the swaying motion of the car in those claustrophobic conditions wasn't helping.

"I'm going to be sick," I said to the floor.

"What'd he say?"

A little louder, I repeated myself.

There was some laughter from the front seat, but the guys in back didn't think it was so funny. The one nearest my head took off my hat, turned it upside down, and shoved it under my nose.

"You get any puke on me and I'll pop your eyes out," he warned.

I gulped back my gorge and tried to get air in my lungs. It was a long, tough ride, but I managed to keep my dinner down. We pulled over once and the driver got out for a few minutes, leaving the engine running. The car rocked as he squeezed back behind the wheel.

"Frank says we bring him to the boat, then you guys take a hike until he wants you again. Georgie, you take the car back to the house for me."

"When do we get paid?"

"Tonight at the boat, the usual."

"Come on, Fred, we been after this guy all day."

"Then argue with Frank, I don't pay the bills."

Someone tied a rag over my eyes and I was hauled from the backseat with my arms fixed behind me. Two men had to hold me up since I couldn't balance. I smelled and heard the water lapping all around and had immediate visions of Lake Michigan and cement shoes. I tried tearing loose, collected a breath-stealing gut punch, and was dragged down some steps. The next few minutes were confusing as I was tripped into something that felt alive under my feet. I lost balance again and without my arms couldn't stop the fall. My left elbow hit something hard and so did my knees. I tried to twist to get upright, lost it all again, and my head snapped back and the hard thing caught me behind the ear. Despite the blindfold, lights flashed in my eyes before the dark closed everything down.

It felt like I'd been asleep for weeks and was only now coming out of it. Some men were talking and I was annoyed that they were holding their discussion in my private bedroom. I wanted to tell them to get the h.e.l.l out, but my mouth wasn't cooperating yet.

"On ice and intact," a man said. I remembered his name was Fred.

"You call that intact?" was the ungrateful reply.

"He put up a fight, what can I say?"

"You boys been paid yet?"