Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

“If you think I'm goin' to pass up nearly a million dollars of investments just because you're too damned milky to stop it, you're crazy. I'll stop it if I have to break into the gaol and shoot every one of those whores.

Now do you understand that I mean business?”

There was a pause, then Hackensfield said, “It won't work. Think about it. Statements will be taken from the girls as soon as they get to the station. They'll find out that some of the girls have come from other States.

The F.B.I. have already gone down to the station to see if they can horn in on the investigation. We can't keep them out. As soon as they know there are girls from other States they can take charge through the Mann Act.

No, it's all up. Every one of us'll have to save his own hide.”

Raven hung up and stepped out of the phone booth, trembling with suppressed rage. Hackensfield was right. The thing had come too fast for him to act. The F.B.I. would take over and he'd be on the run again.

There wasn't a moment to delay.

He climbed into the taxi and gave Franky's address. He had to pick Maltz up, although by now Franky's wouldn't be safe. During the drive he took out his wallet and counted the amount of money he had on him.

He'd got just over two hundred dollars. When he thought that he could put his hands on nearly a million dollars if he could only get back to the hotel, he shivered with rage and frustration. He'd got to get that money, even if he raided the hotel and took it at the point of a gun.

He paid off the taxi at Franky's and, holding the butt of his gun, walked in.

Maltz, Little Joe and Lefty came across the lobby as soon as they saw him.

“You got a car?” he snapped.

Lefty nodded. “At the back.”

“Then let's get out of here,” Raven said.

They went through Franky's place and got in the car. “Where to, boss?” Lefty asked.

“Drive around. I want to talk,” Raven returned, lighting a cigarette. “Just keep moving.”

The car swung away from the kerb.

“Well, what did you find out?” Raven asked Maltz.

Maltz seemed bewildered. “The cops are in your apartment,” he said. “They took Sadie away. What the hell's happenin'?”

Raven's face twisted. “It's that rat Grantham,” he snarled. “I was crazy to have trusted him. I told him to get rid of Ellinger and he didn't do it. Now Ellinger's finished us.”

Little Joe scratched his head. “What do we do now?” he asked. “Shall we beat it out of town?”

Raven shook his head. “Before we go we've got to have some dough. We're goin' to the St. Louis Hotel an'

collect the dough I've got in my apartment.”

Maltz said patiently, “I told you the cops are in there. They'll have found it by now.”

Raven shook his head. “No guy's goin' to open my safe in a few hours. We've got to get that dough, Maltz.”

Lefty said, “The G−men will be up there too.”

Raven showed his teeth. “Yeah? What of it? We'll go up the back way with Thompsons. They won't have a chance.”

The others looked at each other uneasily. “Those guys can shoot,” Little Joe said nervously.

Raven nodded. “So can we. St. Louis Hotel, Lefty.”

12

September 8th, 6.5 p.m.

CAMPBELL, special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, smiled at Sadie reassuringly. He sat behind a large desk in a severely furnished office.

“Before you give me your evidence,” he said, “I'll tell you something about this guy Cruise. For one thing, that's not his name. Fortunately, Mr. Ellinger obtained a perfect set of prints for us. We've had these checked.

They belong to a man whom we know as Raven and who we've been looking for for some time. This Raven had a bad criminal record in Chicago. He made things too hot for himself and pulled out. He pulled out in a stolen car and crossed a State line. That gave us a chance of getting after him. We lost sight of him here, although he was reported to have been seen further south. Never mind that. As far as you're concerned, you're safe from him. We shall give you special protection, and until he's rounded up you'll stay out of town with a special guard. You're very important to us. Not only can you prove that he was the guy who killed Mendetta, but your testimony on his Slave racket will get him on the other counts we are bringing against him.”

Sadie moved restlessly. “Will it take long?” she asked.

Campbell shrugged. “I don't think so. We mustn't underrate this man. He's clever, and he may still give us the slip, but with your help I think we'll get him quickly. Can you tell me anything about his habits? Did he like movies, for instance? You see, what we have to do in a case like this is to find out everything we can about a wanted man. They have their own little peculiarities. Some of them are crazy about racing. Sooner or later they'll appear on a race−track, and we catch them there. You see what I'm getting at?”

Sadie drew a deep breath. “He was crazy about toy trains,” she said.

Campbell lifted his eyebrows. “Now, that's something.” He made a note on a pad. “I was goin' to ask about that. We found a big outfit in his rooms.”