Part 12 (1/2)
”Yeah? Well, what's the dope?”
”The Shadow again.”
”The Shadow? Where did he horn in?”
”That fight up in the hall. The news hounds got it from the police that some of the guests must have put up a battle. But that wasn't the lay at all.”
”Shoot it, quick.”
”Here's what happened,” explained Spud. ”Skeet and the five guys with him were over in the empty apartment. They got the signal all right. From the inside man. It meant to come in five minutes, if there wasn't no other sign. That was it, wasn't it?”
”Yeah. That was the dope I had you pa.s.s to Skeet. Go on.”
”Skeet sends the boys out ahead. Back in the empty apartment, he knows there's something wrong. The last of the crew chucks one of the bombs.”
”In the hall?”
”Yeah. He heaves it from the door of the empty apartment. Then comes shots. This guy uses his rod. It was Zug. Skeet seen him fire. Then comes another shot. Zug pitches flat. Out in the hall. So Skeet slams the door.”
”Yellow, eh?”
”Yellow nothing. Didn't he see Zug toss the bomb? Skeet knowed it was some sniper out there, shooting from where the gas couldn't get him. He figures The Shadow, so he waits. When he does sneak out, the gas is done. The four guys are lying in the hall. Door of the apartment is open. Skeet knows they must have heaved a bomb in there, because there's no noise.
”He sees the steel door of the fire tower and figures it was from in back of that The Shadow does the sharpshooting. No sign of The Shadow no longer. So Skeet moves quick. He s.n.a.t.c.hes the masks off them dead gorillas and takes the couple of bombs they got left. He heads down the stairs in a hurry.”
”Where were you all this time?”
”Outside, laying back, with gorillas all around the apartment house. I spotted the bulls coming up. I knowed there was going to be trouble. Some tip-off. So I busted loose with my gat. Give the boys the alarm. I beat it over to the coupe and made a getaway.”
”The others?”
”They was quick. Put up a running fight and took it on the lam. n.o.body scratched. But wait'll I tell you the rest about Skeet. He heaved another bomb in the lobby, square into the middle of a lot of cops.
Knocked them out. Grabbed a cab; plugged a bomb into a patrol car. Made his getaway.”
”Did anybody see him work?” quizzed Wolf.
”Only the taxi driver,” replied Spud, with a grin, ”and Skeet fixed him right. Picked a place to drop offand told the guy to slow down. Just as Skeet slid from the cab, he laid another bomb in the front seat.
”Boy! That cab goes right through a traffic light, hits the curb, and busts through a plate-gla.s.s window.
Traffic cop goes piling over to give the driver blazes. Finds him sitting at the wheel, stiff as a board.”
”That meant another mug for the hospital. The taxi driver was the only one that saw Skeet use the bomb.
It gave Skeet a chance for an easy getaway besides. I met him over at the hideout. He slipped me the whole story.”
WOLF had risen. He was pacing back and forth, recalling all that Spud had related. The big shot was tabulating losses, considering consequences. Spud watched him hopefully. He started to speak once or twice, but caught himself each time. When Wolf spoke, his tone was a.n.a.lytical.
”First off,” declared the big shot, ”you're out a raiding crew. The only guy left is Skeet. He looks to be the best of the lot. You're right about him using brains last night. We can count on him to lead the next raid.
You'll have to pick the four best gorillas you've got in the outside crew. Who are they?”
”Louie and Gabby, to begin with,” returned Spud, promptly. ”Then there's two other guys. Muggsy McGilly and the fellow that came with him - Cliff Marsland.”
”Marsland, eh? I've heard of him. Did time up in the big house. He's been doing good since he got out of stir. Say - how'd you land him for the outfit?”
”Luke Gonrey knew him. Luke fixed it.”
”Well, he's worth a couple of ordinary gorillas. Get hold of those four bimboes tonight. Send them up to the hideout. Skeet can break them in.”
”For a job tonight?”
”Yeah. Listen, Spud, we're going to pull something that'll turn this town upside down. Something I just got wind of from a smart guy I know. Did you ever hear tell of Teladron?”
”Who is he? One of them Greeks that owns a chain of restaurants?”
”The name's Greek all right,” snorted Wolf, ”but it don't refer to a person. Teladron is the name of a play.
What they call a modernized version of a cla.s.sic tragedy. Here's the dope on it. In the newspaper.”
Wolf fumbled through the pages of the journal that he had been reading. He noted an advertis.e.m.e.nt and a column article. He chuckled.
”This play opened in Philadelphia,” he stated. ”They tried it down there and it clicked like wildfire. All the ritzy folks were making week-end trips to Philly just to see that show. Well, Teladron closed in Philadelphia, and it's opening here tonight.
”The promoters have opened the old Galloway Theater. Seats fifteen hundred people, and you know what the prices are going to be? Five bucks up to twenty bucks top; and there won't be a seat empty.”
”How come?” questioned Spud, amazed.
”The censors weren't going to let it open,” explained Wolf. ”The box seats were sold; before the regular advance sale started, the censors put the ban on it. They'd seen the show down in Philly. They said nix.
Then the promoters pulled a smart one. They got an injunction against the censors on the grounds that they couldn't pa.s.s decision on a show that hadn't appeared in New York.” ”So it's opening?”
”Yeah. Teladron tonight at the Galloway. Maybe it'll be toned down; maybe it won't. The whole cast may be pinched. But the show runs this one night, at least. That's why the prices skyrocketed. The promoters aren't going to deal with agencies. Ticket sale starts at five o'clock, at the theater.”
”Where do we come in?”
”First of all on the box office receipts. I figure they'll take between ten and fifteen grand. That goes up to the manager's office. One guy with a gas bomb can take care of that. But that's chicken feed.”
”I told you the boxes have been sold. I've learned who's got them. This show is going to be as big as the opening of an opera season, except that it'll be flashy as well as ritzy. You've heard of Peter Caldoon, haven't you?”
”Yeah. The South African diamond king. Has a couple of Pinkertons with him for a bodyguard.”
”That's the guy. The rocks he wears are worth fifty grand, and he never carries less than that amount of dough with him. Well, he's got one box, with the d.i.c.ks there with him. In another box we'll find Halwood, the banker. His wife's due to show up with a big layout of sparklers. That ain't all; but there's no use in going through the whole list. The point is, we're going to get all the swag in sight.”
”By ga.s.sing the boxes, eh? But what about the rest of the folks in the theater? What about the actors?”