Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

He went on and on, it was unbelievable. He had no restraint or caution. He seemed to be unaware that I was even in the room, even though he was looking right at me and talking right to me. He told me how he had set up the job, everything he did, how he had timed it, and how little Monk and Larry Coster had to do with the whole thing. I had come up here hoping he’d open the attache case with his key and that he would make a damning statement or two against himself, and here I had something far better than any confession. It was all over, all wrapped up now for keeps. I could hand him over to O’Leary now as one very dead duck. All I needed was five minutes or less to get to a phone and Leon Schell was through. I only had to figure out a way to get away from him gracefully and that shouldn’t be too hard.

He kept on talking, telling me how he had seen the infra-red ray light beams diagrammed and described in a trade electronics magazine, and how he had read about the television eye to protect the vault in a national industrial security magazine, and then how he planned to outwit these measures. He just wouldn’t stop talking.

I began to feel like the farmer who prayed for rain and then had all his crops washed out in a cloudburst. I just wanted to get out and away from him now to call O’Leary, but there was no way I could think of to shut him up and make my break. He kept going for minutes more, but finally ran out of breath.

It gave me the break I wanted. I stood up and moved a couple of steps towards the foyer. He eyed me sharply and seemed to realize that I was in the room with him for the first time since he started his ranting.

“Guess I’m no use here, Leon,” I said. “May as well mosey off. I’m real sorry for your trouble, though.” I turned and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute.” His voice was sharp and commanding.

I turned around and looked questioningly at him. He apparently didn’t suspect anything yet, his hands were clenched together, not exactly wringing them, but almost. At least they weren’t near his gun pocket.

“Wait a minute. I may need you for something. I’ve got to think of something.”

He paced up and down on the rug in quick hurried strides, his face a mask of concentration. This was a fine note. Here I had the guy signed, sealed, and almost delivered, on my way out of the dump to call the cops, and he tells me to wait while he thinks of something. But I couldn’t run out on him, now I really had to play it cool, very cool.

I shifted my weight and half faced him. I dug into my jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one and blew the smoke at the ceiling and watched it curl upward. My mind was racing. If he sent me out on some kind of an errand it would still be all right. All I had to do was get out of his sight and to a phone booth — in five minutes the building would be crawling with cops.

He kept pacing up and down, making sharp turns at the end of each little trip he made on the rug, his back never to me. The room was very quiet, the music coming from the hi-fi radio seemed louder and louder. I cursed myself for getting hog-tied like this, every minute was precious, but there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

The music stopped on the radio, an annoying fifteen second commercial came on, so annoying it made Leon Schell head for the set to snap it off, but a news announcer came on before he got there. The announcer’s words smashed into the room like live devils, loud and clear as rifle shots. My blood froze, my insides felt as if an icy hand was ripping them out.

“...police have identified the dead man as Martin Saunders, better known in the underworld as Monk Saunders. He is believed to be one of the suspects involved in an enormous jewel robbery last weekend which...”

Leon Schell’s right hand darted into his pocket and came out with the little gun as soon as he heard Monk’s name mentioned. Now it was aimed right at my head. His eyes glared into mine, beady marbles of hate. My heart felt like lead, slowly sinking into my legs, and for a crazy second I thought my eyes had changed into Coca Cola bottles.

“...high police officials refused all comment, but reporters on the scene learned that the occupant of the hotel room was an operative for an insurance concern and that he was seen in the vicinity shortly before the body was found...”