Read Online The Avenger 7 - Stockholders in Death by Kenneth Robeson - Free Book Online
Authors: Kenneth Robeson
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but had under his lapel a badge with the inscription: Pinkley Protective Association.
“All right,” snarled Blinky. “You dummy—what goes on here?”
“This guy found the door open. You know we didn’t shut it because we figured we might have to lam out fast.” The man who had been left as lookout was panting the words. He was hauling at Blinky’s arm to get him away. “He had it open for a look around before I spotted him. Then he started for his gun, and I yelled and let him have it.”
“Blinky, we just gotta get out of here—”
Luckow’s men streamed for the big street door. The sound of that shot would have been heard in the street. The cops would come any minute.
“I told you—no killing!” Tom said in a strangled tone, staring with wide eyes at the dead watchman. “I told you—”
He was talking to himself. The gang was gone.
Grand had come up. He grabbed Tom’s arm.
“So—murder as well as banditry. You—”
Tom could hit hard, and he did, now. His fist slammed against Grand’s oversized jaw, and Grand slid back a yard. Tom ran out the door, too, and to the corner where the car had been left.
Down the street sounded a police siren. It was coming fast.
Tom turned the corner in time to see the car swirl off bearing Blinky and the rest from danger.
“Wait! Wait for me—”
The car faded down the street. The police sirens were right in Tom’s ears, now.
He started to run, knew he’d be caught that way.
A coupé slid to a stop beside him. At the wheel was a woman’s figure. She opened the door, and he hopped in. The coupé dashed on and around the next corner just as the squad car appeared down Broadway.
“Many thanks,” panted Tom. He looked at the woman. She was young, he sensed. But that was all he could tell. She had a veil over her face so heavy that he couldn’t see a single detail.
“You’ve saved my life, and more,” panted Tom. “But how did you happen to come along so appropriately?”
The veiled woman at the wheel did not answer.
Tom had jumped into the car without question. Anything to get away from the police. He was full of questions, now. But asking them did no good. The woman at the wheel remained silent while she sent the coupé forward at a fast pace, down through town and over the Brooklyn Bridge.
“You’re working for Luckow, I suppose?” he said, finally. “You were posted as a sort of extra lookout to take care of any details that might slip? I didn’t know Luckow had girls doing that kind of work.”
Still no word from the enigmatic, veiled figure at the wheel. She stopped the car a block from the Bird, Luckow’s Brooklyn night club.
Tom wanted to try some more to make her talk, but he didn’t dare. At any moment a cop might come along and see him.
He ducked into the Bird, and up the private staircase.
Blinky opened the door when he knocked four times.
“For the love of—” gasped Blinky, on seeing Tom’s face.
Luckow stared over his shoulder with his impassive face for once showing emotion. First, stark surprise. Then, as he whirled to Blinky, a mounting fury.
He repressed both almost instantly, and turned smoothly to Tom again.
“I’m sure glad you got out of that bank, kid. The boys told me the job went sour. If they’d caught you—”
“Well, they didn’t,” said Tom, with a show of bravado.
“So I see.” Luckow smiled a little. He was most dangerous when he smiled. “Better go in your room and rest up after this. I’ll be along later.”
When Tom was gone, he whirled to Blinky.
“You sap! You said you’d left him there to take the rap for the gang.”
“We did,” said Blinky, tone completely bewildered. “I don’t know how he got away. There were no cabs or nothin’ around there for him to lam in.”
“Leave it to you guys to mess things up,” said Luckow, less furiously. “Well, you got nearly two hundred grand out of the vault while the Crimm sap’s back was turned. That’s a good haul. And
“All right,” snarled Blinky. “You dummy—what goes on here?”
“This guy found the door open. You know we didn’t shut it because we figured we might have to lam out fast.” The man who had been left as lookout was panting the words. He was hauling at Blinky’s arm to get him away. “He had it open for a look around before I spotted him. Then he started for his gun, and I yelled and let him have it.”
“Blinky, we just gotta get out of here—”
Luckow’s men streamed for the big street door. The sound of that shot would have been heard in the street. The cops would come any minute.
“I told you—no killing!” Tom said in a strangled tone, staring with wide eyes at the dead watchman. “I told you—”
He was talking to himself. The gang was gone.
Grand had come up. He grabbed Tom’s arm.
“So—murder as well as banditry. You—”
Tom could hit hard, and he did, now. His fist slammed against Grand’s oversized jaw, and Grand slid back a yard. Tom ran out the door, too, and to the corner where the car had been left.
Down the street sounded a police siren. It was coming fast.
Tom turned the corner in time to see the car swirl off bearing Blinky and the rest from danger.
“Wait! Wait for me—”
The car faded down the street. The police sirens were right in Tom’s ears, now.
He started to run, knew he’d be caught that way.
A coupé slid to a stop beside him. At the wheel was a woman’s figure. She opened the door, and he hopped in. The coupé dashed on and around the next corner just as the squad car appeared down Broadway.
“Many thanks,” panted Tom. He looked at the woman. She was young, he sensed. But that was all he could tell. She had a veil over her face so heavy that he couldn’t see a single detail.
“You’ve saved my life, and more,” panted Tom. “But how did you happen to come along so appropriately?”
The veiled woman at the wheel did not answer.
Tom had jumped into the car without question. Anything to get away from the police. He was full of questions, now. But asking them did no good. The woman at the wheel remained silent while she sent the coupé forward at a fast pace, down through town and over the Brooklyn Bridge.
“You’re working for Luckow, I suppose?” he said, finally. “You were posted as a sort of extra lookout to take care of any details that might slip? I didn’t know Luckow had girls doing that kind of work.”
Still no word from the enigmatic, veiled figure at the wheel. She stopped the car a block from the Bird, Luckow’s Brooklyn night club.
Tom wanted to try some more to make her talk, but he didn’t dare. At any moment a cop might come along and see him.
He ducked into the Bird, and up the private staircase.
Blinky opened the door when he knocked four times.
“For the love of—” gasped Blinky, on seeing Tom’s face.
Luckow stared over his shoulder with his impassive face for once showing emotion. First, stark surprise. Then, as he whirled to Blinky, a mounting fury.
He repressed both almost instantly, and turned smoothly to Tom again.
“I’m sure glad you got out of that bank, kid. The boys told me the job went sour. If they’d caught you—”
“Well, they didn’t,” said Tom, with a show of bravado.
“So I see.” Luckow smiled a little. He was most dangerous when he smiled. “Better go in your room and rest up after this. I’ll be along later.”
When Tom was gone, he whirled to Blinky.
“You sap! You said you’d left him there to take the rap for the gang.”
“We did,” said Blinky, tone completely bewildered. “I don’t know how he got away. There were no cabs or nothin’ around there for him to lam in.”
“Leave it to you guys to mess things up,” said Luckow, less furiously. “Well, you got nearly two hundred grand out of the vault while the Crimm sap’s back was turned. That’s a good haul. And
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