I'll Get You For This

  "That's all right," I said, but I knew my face had gone white. "I'm not kidding myself what those heels have done to her. Well, they'll pay for it." I lit a cigarette while the other two exchanged glances. "Any ideas how we can get her out?" I asked suddenly, looking at Davis.

  He gaped at me. "Get her out?" he repeated. "It can't be done. There just isn't any way of getting her out. That jail's like a fort, and Flaggerty has about twenty guards around the outside. I went down there with Coppinger and they wouldn't let me in. They're reckoning you'll try to get her out. They've got a couple of searchlights rigged on the roof, and every guard has a Thompson. They've even got dogs patrolling. Not a chance."

  I suddenly felt better. I grinned at him.

  "I'm getting her out of that jail," I said.

  "I'd like to know how you're going to do it," Davis said, his eyes opening.

  "Is this place on the main road?" He nodded. "It stands back a quarter of a mile from State Highway Four. You can see it from the road as you leave town."

  "I'll go out and look it over," I said. "When do you reckon Coppinger will be along?"

  "About an hour," Davis said. "I'll drive you over to the jail and pick up Coppinger on his way out. You can travel the way you travelled last night."

  "Okay," I said, and took out Bat's .38 Police Special. It was a good gun, but I wished I had my Luger. I checked it over, then shoved it down the waist-band of my trousers.

  Still want to be mixed up in this?" I asked Davis.

He looked surprised. "Why, sure," he said.

"I'm asking you because from now on there'll be no backing out. It'll be a fight to the finish."

He scratched his head, then shrugged. "I'll stick."

I looked across at Tim.

"And you?"

He nodded.

"That's fine," I said, and meant it.

I went to the door. Davis followed me.

2

  Coppinger was a little guy, about forty years old, with a leathery face and a black moustache. His eyes were blue, sharp and cold. He looked sleepy, but there was something about him that told me he knew more than most guys awake.

  "She's in a spot," he said, when he finally got seated. I don't know what they've done to her, but they've done plenty." He shook his head, and took out a bag of Bull Durham smoking tobacco and a packet of brown papers. He rolled himself a cigarette. "She acts like she's already dead."

  The hair on the back of my neck bristled. "What did she say?"

  He lit the limp cigarette, let it dangle out of the side of his mouth.

  "She said she killed Herrick," he told me in a flat voice. "That's all she did say. Although I was alone with her, although I kept telling her I was working for you, she just wouldn't bite. 'I killed him,' she kept saying. 'Leave me alone. I killed him and there's nothing you can do about it.' " He shook his head again. "She's a goner, Cain. There's nothing I can do for her. We can plead not guilty, but we can't make a fight of it."

  "Okay," I said, "stick around. See her as much as you can, and keep working on her. I wanted to be sure we couldn't beat the rap. Now, I know what to do."

He looked at me thoughtfully.

  "I've heard about you," he said. "You've got a reputation. It won't get that girl anywhere if you try violence. They're going to bring her to trial. If she looks like sliding through their fingers, she'll meet with an accident. I know Killeano and Flaggerty. Those boys won't stop at anything, and I mean anything. The election's too close. They've got to clean up Herrick's murder before then. So be careful how you step."

  I nodded. "I'll be careful."

  "Thinking of getting her out?" he asked, after a pause.

  I looked at Jed Davis, who was sitting across the room.

  He nodded.

  "That's the idea," I said. "I went out there this afternoon and had a look. It'll be tough."

  "You won't get her out alive," Coppinger said, "if you get her out at all."

  "But that s our only chance."

  "I know." He stroked his nose, stared down at his feet. "Even if you got inside help, it'd be impossible."

  I eyed him. "What inside help?"

  He lifted his narrow shoulders. "There's a guard I know …" he began, then shrugged. "What's the good? It couldn't be done."

  I slammed my fist on the table. "It's got to be done!" I exploded. "What about the guard?"

  "A fellow named Tom Mitchell. Flaggerty's fooling around with his wife. Mitchell knows, but he can't do anything. He'd like to get even if he could. You might talk to him."

  "I have to be careful whom I talk to," I said.

  Coppinger nodded. "Mitchell's safe. He's aching to put one over Flaggerty. But I don't think he could be much use except to give you the lay-out of the jail. I wouldn't let him know too much."

I turned to Davis.

"See this guy, and bring him down to the wharf when it's dark. I'll talk to him."

Davis nodded, got up and went out.

  I slid two hundred bills over to Coppinger. "There's more to come," I said. "Keep with that kid."