12 Chinks and A Woman

     “Carlos couldn't get his own way, so he kills my man. Well, it ain't what happens to the one who gets killed. It's what happens to the one who gets left. Tim died quick; went out like a light. But I don't forget quick. I guess in time I'll go dead inside and I'll find things working out easier than they are now, but right now I'd like to do things to that Carlos.”

     Fenner got to his feet. He said gently, “Take it easy. Carlos'll pay for that all right. It wouldn't get you anywhere if you did kill him. Leave Carlos to me. I gotta date with him.”

     The woman said nothing. She suddenly stuffed her apron in her mouth and her face crumpled. She waved Fenner to the door wildly, and as he went out, she sank on her knees by the rocking-chair.

     When Fenner got down to the harbor, Schaife was waiting for him outside the San Francisco Hotel. They went in and had two quick drinks and then Fenner followed him down to the waterfront.

     Schaife said, “I've got two Thompsons and a lotta shells. Scalfoni's brought a bag of bombs. God knows if those bombs are any use. He makes 'em himself. That guy's been itchin' to throw them at someone ever since he got the idea.”

     Fenner said, “He'll get his chance tonight.”

     Kemerinski's boat was of a good size. Alex and Scalfoni were smoking, waiting. Fenner stepped aboard as Kemerinski appeared from the engine cockpit. He grinned at Fenner. “Everything okay,” he said. “We can go when you say so.”

     Fenner said, “Sure. We've got nothing to wait for. Let her go.”

     The other three got on board, and Kemerinski went below and started the engine. The boat began to throb and Schaife shoved her nose off from the harbor wall.

     Fenner said, “We'll land on the village side and walk over. Maybe we'll have to leave in a hurry.”

     Kemerinski grunted. “This old tub ain't too fast,” he said, nosing the boat carefully through the lights towards the open gulf.

     Scalfoni came up and climbed into the cockpit. His greasy skin shone in the dim light. “I got the bombs,” he said. “Gee! I'm sure goin' to get a kick when they go bang.”

     Fenner took off his hat and scratched his head. “These other guys've got bombs too,” he said. “They threw one at me about an hour ago.”

     Scalfoni's jaw dropped. “Did it go off?” he asked.

     Fenner looked at him and nodded. “Sure, it wrecked a house. I'm hoping you've made a good job with your home-made bangs. We might need them.”

     Scalfoni said, “Jeeze!” and went away to have another look at his bag.

     It didn't take much longer than fifteen minutes before Fenner spotted distant lights. He pointed them out to Kemerinski, who nodded and said, “Black Caesar.”

     Fenner stretched and climbed out of the cockpit. He walked over to the other three who were sitting on the foredeck, watching the lights. “Let's get this right,” he said. “We've come here to put Carlos's boats out of action. We've got to do this quick and with the least trouble. Scalfoni, you carry the bombs. Schaife and me will have the Thompsons, and Alex will cover us with his rod. Kemerinski will stay with the boat. Okay?”

     They grunted.

     As the boat ran into the small natural harbor, Schaife unslung the two Thompsons and passed one to Fenner. Scalfoni came up from the cabin, a black bag in his hand. “Don't you guys crowd me,” he said. “These pineapples are touchy things.”

     They all laughed.

     Alex said, “Some guy'll put a slug in that bag, sure thing. It'll save you a burial, anyway.”

     The boat swept in a half-circle, and came up to the side of the harbor wall as Kemerinski reached forward and cut the switch. The engine died with a little flurry.

     Schaife, standing in the stern, jumped on to the wall and Alex tossed him the bowline. He held the boat steady until the others landed. Kemerinski handed up the bag of bombs tenderly to Scalfoni.

     Fenner said, “Watch out. Soon as you hear the bombs, get the engine started. We might have to leave in a hurry.”

     Kemerinski said, “Sure, that'll be okay. Watch yourselves, you guys.”

     They moved towards the village. The road leading from the harbor was rough and narrow. Big stones lay about and once Scalfoni tripped. The others swore at him uneasily.

     “Careful, you punk,” Alex said; “watch how you walk.”

     Scalfoni said, “I'm watchin' okay. The way you're goin' on, you'd think these pills were dangerous. Maybe they won't go off at all.”

     Fenner said, “We'll take the back streets. Two of you go first, and Scalfoni and I'll follow you. We don't want to attract attention.”

     It was a hot night with a bright moon. Both Fenner and Schaife carried the Thompsons wrapped in a piece of sacking. They skirted the village and crossed the island through a series of small squares and dark alleys. The few fishermen they did meet glanced at them curiously, but could make out nothing except shadowy outlines.

     After a steep climb they suddenly came to the sea again—sparkling several hundred feet below them.

     Fenner said, “I guess this is it.”