12 Chinks and A Woman

     Holding his gun in his right hand, he inched his way across the space that divided him from the skylight. It took him quite a time, but he did it without a sound. Pushing his hat to the back of his head, he looked down into the room. Carlos was there. Reiger was there and another man he didn't know. They were within six feet of Fenner. The room was very low, like a loft, and Fenner was so startled that he hurriedly jerked back.

     Carlos was smoking on the bed. Reiger lolled, his head against the wall, in a chair; he was asleep. The other man dozed on the floor.

     Fenner looked at the cross-pieces between the panes of the skylight; he felt their thickness gently with his thumb. There was no substance in them. Then he straightened and, reaching out with his right foot, he placed it gently in the exact centre of the cross-pieces. He took a deep breath and pushed down with all his weight.

     The cross-pieces gave with a splintering noise and he and the glass crashed down into the room. He landed on his feet, staggered and jerked up his gun.

     Carlos lay very still on the bed, his cigarette jerking up and down in his mouth. The man on the floor went for his gun unconsciously. He was so dazed that his instinct took him to death. If he hadn't been dozing nothing on this earth would have made him go for the gun. Fenner shot him between the eyes.

     Reiger and Carlos were like frozen statues. They just stared at Fenner with fixed glassy eyes.

     Fenner said, “I want you,” to Carlos.

     The ash from Carlos' cigarette fell on his chest. He looked wildly at Reiger and then back to Fenner. “Gimme a break,” he said hoarsely.

     Fenner said, “Shut up. I've been layin' for you two. Now you're going to get what's coming to you. I'm not going to do it. You two guys can do it to yourselves. You can fight it out. The one who wins goes out of this joint. I won't touch him. Maybe you've heard I keep my word. Either that, or I'll knock the two of you off.”

     Reiger relaxed suddenly. He said, “I kill him and you don't touch me?” he sounded incredulous.

     Carlos crouched further against the wall. “Reiger!” he screamed. “Don't do it!” I'm your boss, do you hear? You're not to do it.”

     Reiger got slowly out of his chair, he had a fixed grin on his face.

     Fenner said, “Wait. Put your mitts up and face the wall.”

     Reiger scowled at him, but Fenner rammed his gun hard into his side. He put his hands up and turned round. Fenner took a gun out of his hip pocket and stepped back. “Stay there an' don't move.” He went over to Carlos, grabbed him by his shirt front and dragged him off the bed. A quick frisk told him Carlos hadn't a gun.

     Fenner walked to the corner of the room near the door and leaned against the wall. “What you waiting, for? Don't one of you want to go home?”

     Carlos began to scream at Reiger, but the look on Reiger's face told him he'd have to fight. Reiger, his hand held low, a set animal expression on his face, began to stalk after Carlos who circled the room swearing in a soft continuous flow. The room was too small to keep that up long. Reiger suddenly rushed in blindly, grabbing Carlos round the waist. Carlos screamed with terror, beat Reiger about his head with his clenched fists and tried to get away. Reiger began to hit Carlos in the ribs, driving in punches that sounded hollow. They swayed round the room, punching and mauling each other, then Carlos' heel caught in the mat and he went over with Reiger on top of him. Reiger grabbed him by his ears and hammered his head on the boards.

     He turned his head and grinned at Fenner. “I've got the louse now,” he panted. “By God, I've got him now!”

     Carlos reached up with his hands and drove two hooked fingers into Reiger's eyes, then he ripped down. Dug in again and scratched and ripped once more. A horrible sound issued from Reiger's chest and burst from his mouth in a sobbing croak. He fell away from Carlos. Holding one hand to his eyes and beating the air with the other, he began to blunder round the room. Carlos crawled to his feet, shook his head and waited for Reiger to go past him again. As he did so, he shot out a foot and brought Reiger down. Reiger fell on his face and lay there, moaning and kicking with his feet.

     Carlos had forgotten that Fenner was in the room. He saw only Reiger. Dropping on Reiger's back, he pinned him with his knees and fastened his red fingers round Reiger's throat. Then, with his knee planted in the middle of Reiger's back, he began to drag Reiger slowly backwards.

     Reiger beat on the floor with his hands, his eyes bolting out of his head. Carlos said, “Here it comes,” savagely, and flung all his weight into a vicious pull. Reiger gurgled, groped feebly for Carlos'-hands and then went limp. A faint snapping sound came and blood ran out of Reiger's mouth. Carlos threw him away and stood up trembling.

     Fenner leaned against the wall, covering Carlos with his gun. “You're lucky,” he said. “Beat it before I change my mind. Go on—dust, you—”