Chapter Twenty-One

Donny Gall's office was empty.

Terry Scott left the Den of Iniquity, crossed the swimming pool, and entered the house where the guards lived. He tried the first door he came to. It was a bedroom, two metal beds, a foot locker at the foot of each bed, two metal closets, one big fan going at top speed.

Terry saw that one of the sleeping guards was Lonny Coe. He stepped to the head of the other bed, hefted the gun in his fist, and crashed it against the head of the guard. There was a pitful moan, then silence. A trickle of blood appeared at the man's temple. Terry examined the man's wrist: the pulse was slow but steady. He then turned to the sleeping Lonny.

Lonny Coe was rudely awakened. He sat up, his brain alerted. "What the hell?" Then he saw Terry Scott in the moonlight. He looked contemptuously at the gun in Terry's hand. "You haven't got a chance, buster. Better hand that toy over to me before you get hurt."

Terry swiped at Lonny's face. The guard yelped. "Dirty Bastard!" he snarled. "Any more suggestions?" Terry asked coolly. "Yeah," Lonny said. He made a suggestion. Terry grinned. "I'm not a contortionist," he said. Then his face became grim. "Where's Gall's room?"

"Go to hell."

"You're the one who'll be going to hell if you don't speak up," Terry warned. "I'm not going to play around with you. I've already killed your roommate," he lied.

Lonny stared at him. "I didn't hear no shot"

"I clubbed him to death."

"How do you expect me to trust you?" Lonny said. "How do I know you won't give me the same treatment if I talk?"

"You have the word of a gentleman."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'm not going to waste any more time with you," Terry warned. "Now let's have it."

"He's got a room in the Den," Lonny said. "You don't think he'd stay here with us low life, do you?"

"What room?"

"Room 69."

"You'd better not be telling any fibs," Terry said. "You know what happens to little boys who tell fibs?" Lonny cursed.

"I'll come back and put you to sleep permanently," Terry Scott said grimly. "Now put your head back on the pillow and close your eyes."

"Why?" There was a sudden fear in Lonny's eyes.

"I'm going to give you a love tap."

"No, thanks, I'm not having any." Then Lonny got set to scream. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

Terry was on him like a shot, his gun arm swinging. He hit Lonny twice. He got off the bed, studied the guard. "You got guts," he said aloud. "I'll give you that." He then found some rope in one of the foot lockers and tied both men.

"Good night, ladies," Terry said, and left the house where the guards slept.

He made his way to the Den of Iniquity, walked in and went down the corridor to room 69 without encountering anyone.

The door was locked from the inside. "Damn!"

Terry muttered. He was about to turn away, to search Gall's office for keys, when he heard a phone ringing in the room. He heard Gall's voice answering. He put his ear to the door but couldn't hear anything distinctly.

Then there was the sound of the phone being banged on the rest bar. The sound of a body getting out of bed. Footsteps neared the door.

Terry flattened himself against the wall.

The door opened.

Terry flung himself against the door, heard a grunt as Gall was forced back into the room. Terry closed the door behind him. The lights were on.

Gall was in pajamas. He recovered his balance, then looked with amazement at Terry. He sputtered, "You're supposed to be dead."

"You should have done the job yourself," Terry said. "You have such a capable way about you."

Gall stared at the gun in Terry's hand. "You're a very enterprising man, aren't you?"

"I have my days," Terry said.

"I just had a call," Gall said. "Simeon's plane crashed. Both he hand the pilot were killed. Are you responsible for that too?"

"Between you, me, and the lamp post ... yes."

"What happened to Hurtze and Flagler?"

"Dead. Both dead."

The fear was starting. It came slowly into Gall's eyes. His body started to tremble. "Are ... are you going to kill me, too?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," Terry said, playing with him, the way a cat plays with a mouse.

"I've ... I've got money. I've got a lot of money."

"I'm sure you have," Terry said. "But where are you going to spend it? You can't spend it in hell."

"Give me a break," Gall begged. He licked his lips. "Let me get away. You can have it all."

"Just go sit on the bed and wait," Terry said. "Wait? Wait for what?"

"For the fun to begin," Terry said. "Just do what I say. Maybe I won't kill you."

Gall sat on the bed. He stared at the floor between his feet and didn't say anymore.

Terry found the liquor and helped himself.

An hour went by. '

Gall was still, like a man made of stone.

Terry had drank a third of a bottle of scotch and was feeling a glow spreading through his body. He finally put the bottle down, sat on an armchair and lit a cigarette.

Suddenly, there was the sound of shots.

Gall jumped. "What was that?"

"The beginning of the end, I guess."

Gall looked at Terry. "Feds?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I guess a good thing can't go on forever." There was banging on the door. "Open up in there," a voice shouted.

"Who is it?" Terry said. "Treasury Agents," open up."