Chapter 5
Terry was looking forward to seeing Gina again. The job she had done on him in the taxi had been one of the best he'd ever had and he wanted to give her a chance to do it again. He also wanted to return the favor. He walked over to the telephone and dialed her number.
Gina Clark picked up the phone on the first ring. "It's me," Terry Scott said. "Who's me?" she teased. "Terry. Have you forgotten already?"
"No, honey. How can I forget a man who puts dames to sleep?" she giggled.
"I'd like to put you to sleep."
"That's a beautiful way of putting it."
"Do I see you?"
"Well, I don't know."
"We can have lunch together," he suggested. "Who do we eat? she asked. "One another," he laughed.
"It's a deal. I'll expect you within half an hour." She hung up.
Terry left his apartment and went out to the street and hailed a cab. He gave the driver the address, and settled back. The package was in his jacket pocket, the envelope was inside his jacket, in the lining.
It was noon and the sun was big and hot and yellow. Terry lit a cigarette, spewed out bluegray smoke.
It was one of the newer apartment buildings springing up along Lexington Avenue.
There was a doorman who saluted as Terry went into the lobby. He used the speaking tube to announce himself. "Come right up, honey," Gina said.
He used the self-service elevator.
It was a two room flat, wall to wall carpet, modern furniture, white wood television set, prints on the walls. There was a Hollywood bed at one end of the room with a folded screen nearby. The kitchen was small, convenient, modern.
Gina Clark had on a square-cut polished cotton dress. "Would you like thin steaks fried in butter?"
"I'm not particular," Terry said.
"All right, honey. You sit down and watch television. I'll have a snack ready in a jiffy."
Terry looked through the TV pages. There was nothing on except quiz shows and soap operas. He left the TV off.
Gina put plates on the cocktail table, had Terry open a bottle of wine, brought in a large pan and spread steaks onto the plates with a large fork. They ate with relish. They polished off the wine and lit up cigarettes.
"You definitely are a good cook," he complimented her.
"There was nothing to it," she said modestly.
"There's nothing like a good meal."
"You'd be more comfortable with your jacket off," she pointed out.
"It is hot in here." He took his jacket off.
She took it, went to hang it up. "I'll have to get an air conditioner," she said, sitting down again.
"What would you like to do now?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know," she said. "We can't do anything this evening. I'm working tonight."
"That's a pity," he said. "I suppose I can see you after the show?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Do we take Alice with us or what?" She came over to him, sat on his lap. "Let's just go off by ourselves." '"That suits me."
"Maybe I'll go down on you again." Her tongue ran across her red lips. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I'd love it." He ran his hand under her skirt.
"Don't be impatient." She slapped at his hand. "Can't you wait?"
"It's a long time 'til tonight," he pointed out.
"Go visit Alice."
"I want to save myself for you."
"Sure you do, honey. So suffer a little bit. It'll do you good." She kissed his mouth, then got off his lap. "I've a midnight show. Then I'm free. Meet me outside the Club Rondo at one. Okay?"
"But what about now? Look at all the time we have."
"I want you to pine for me. Now get the hell out of here, honey, before I weaken. You do things to me, you bastard. I won't keep it a secret." She brought him his jacket. "Now get."
He stood up, put on his jacket. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Tonight, baby."
"No, that's not what I mean." He took the package from his jacket pocket. "Can I leave this with you for awhile?"
"What is it?"
He tried to sound secretive. "It's a very personal thing. I can't explain right now."
"Do you have diamonds in here?"
"Look, some other time. You will hold it for me, won't you?"
"Sure."
He kissed her cheek. "Tonight then, honey, at one."
She saw him to the door, locked it. She carried the package to the divan, fingered the string and the heavy paper. Her curiosity got the better of her.
Terry Scott spent the better part of the day with Rene Moffet. They dined at Ruben's, saw the latest English movie, and he took her back to their apartment around midnight. "Aren't you coming up?" she wanted to know.
"I'm working."
"Such odd hours."
"I know it. Don't wait up for me, Rene."
"I won't." I hope you enjoy yourself," she said bitterly.
"Don't start the jealous bit," he pleaded.
"I'm sorry. I have no hold on you. I only wish I had. Okay, Terry. Just take care of yourself." She went into the lobby and he looked for a cab.
The cab let him off outside the Club Rondo. He smoked several cigarettes before Gina Clark appeared. She took his arm. "My car is parked a block away."
They started walking.
"What did you do after you left me?" she wanted to know. She had a blue fox wrap across her shoulders. She wore a clinging yellow gown and had a beaded bag clutched in her hand.
"I suffered," he answered.
They got into her car. She put her bag between them, took the wheel. "The suffering will soon stop," she promised in tantalizing tones. The car pulled away from the curb.
Terry let his hand fall on the beaded bag. He felt the outline of an automatic.
Before they got to the apartment the automatic was safely in his jacket pocket.
She opened the door, put on the light and they walked in.
Two men were waiting. They were sitting on the divan behind the cocktail table. On the table was the package that Gone Garry had given Terry. One of the men was Ira Simeon.
The other man was about thirty, with very handsome features. His skin was tanned. "How do you do?" he said.
"Good evening," Terry Scott said. "I believe you have my property spread out before you."
"Since I know your handle," the handsome man said, "you may as well know mine. It's Krakalow. Hans Krakalow."
"You're Gina's boy friend, aren't you?"
"I know Gina," Hans said. "Gina, fix us up some drinks like a good girl."
"Sure." Gina went around Terry. She avoided looking at him.
"I believe you've loused up a well-planned evening," Terry said.
"Gina is my piece," Hans pointed out.
"There are so many girls," Terry sighed. "You own a night club. You can probably pick and choose. There's no reason why you can't indulge me."
Hans rubbed his chin. "We'll see," he said. "But let's talk about something else."
Gina put the drinks on the cocktail table.
"Sit down," Hans told Terry. "No reason we can't be civilized."
Terry sat across from Hans, the cocktail' table between them. "What shall we talk about?" said Terry.
"This junk," Hans said. "I believe it belongs to you."
"It belongs to me," Terry said.
"I've examined it," Hans said. "It wasn't refined in this country."
"It was done in Europe."
"Where in Europe?" Hans wanted to know.
"What difference does it make?" Terry said.
"None, I suppose," Hans picked up his drink. He sipped it. "You took a chance, leaving the stuff with Gina."
"So I see."
"Why leave it with Gina? Couldn't you afford to keep it yourself?"
"I don't have to answer these questions, do I?
For the first time since Terry had entered the apartment, Ira Simeon spoke. "I can make you talk, Buster." His face was an angry scowl.
"Do you really think so?" Terry spoke casually.
Simeon got to his feet. "You limey bastard. I ain't forgettin' last night."
"Don't make a fuss," Hans ordered. He finished his drink. "I can help you, Terry," he said, "if you're on the level. But if you're a Fed-" He shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't want any help," Terry said. "I didn't come to you. I didn't ask for you."
"That's true enough," the night club owner said. "But you're using my broad to help you hide this junk. She should get some kind of compensation."
"I don't get it," Terry said. "You have the opium. Why bother with me? Why don't you sell it or use it yourself? There's big loot involved."
"Narcotics isn't my racket," Hans Krakalow said.
"And as for selling the stuff to someone-well, I couldn't strike out on my own. I'd have to consult others. And chances are, they'd tell me to use my head and stick to my own racket."
"Which is? Terry prompted.
"Taking care of jerks like you," Hans said, laughing. "Keeping them on ice for...."
"You're talking too much," Simeon snarled. He looked down at Hans. "We don't know anything about this creep. He may be a Fed. And you're talking your damn head off."
Hans Krakalow got to his feet. He pushed the cocktail table away making room for his young, lanky body. "Ira, you'll never learn." He spoke quietly, calmly, without emotion. Then his right fist shot out, catching Simeon on the point of the jaw. The bodyguard went down in a huddle. He shook his head, sat on his haunches. His eyes glared hatred at Hans.
"Wait for me in the car," Hans ordered.
Simeon's hand started to reach inside his jacket.
Terry whipped out Gina Clark's pistol. "Don't," he said. He pointed the weapon at Simeon. "I'll plant you on the spot."
Simeon's hand came away. He got to his feet. He licked his lips, stared at Terry, then at Hans.
"Go on down," Hans said. "We'll forget this happened. Just don't forget your place next time."
Simeon went slowly to the door, twisted the knob, went out.
"You owe me something," Terry said.
"Do I?" Hans laughed. "Gina would have handled the situation. She has a rod."
Gina Clark was busy searching her bag. "Have I?" she said. "I can't find the damn thing."
"I have it," Terry said. "I'll give it back to you later."
Gina stared at Terry.
Hans grinned broadly. "Well, I guess I do owe you something. I thought you were kind of stupid, leaving that dope with Gina. But you're not dumb at all, are you?" There was open admiration in his eyes.
"I couldn't keep the stuff on me," Terry said, taking the plunge. "I'm hot."
"Fuzz after you?" Hans wanted to know.
"Right."
"What were you going to do with the opium?"
"Sell it."
"You looking for a buyer?" Hans asked. "I have a buyer," Terry said. "I'm to meet him in a couple of weeks."
"What do you do till then?"
"Cool it," Terry said.
"How would you like to cool it in comfort?" Hans asked.
"Hans," Gina said urgently.
"What's the matter now?" he answered impatiently.
"You have to be sure," she said.
"About him?" Hans jerked a thumb in Terry's direction. "I've a hunch he's okay."
"You need more than that," she said.
"Relax," Hans said. He turned to Terry. "She worries. Can't blame her though. One wrdhg move and the whole setup is queered. But you could have let Simeon kill me. You didn't. I think you're on the level. But I've got to be sure. Gina is right. I've got to be sure."
"I wish I knew what this is all about," Terry said.
"You said you were hot, didn't you?"
"Yes," Terry said. "I'll admit it."
"But why tell me?" Hans said. "You don't know me.
"I knew you weren't going to run to the police," Terry Scott said. "You could have done that when Gina tipped you off to the opium."
"That's a good answer."
"Too good an answer," Gina cut in.
"Why are you against me?" Terry asked her.
"Because you can mess up a good thing if you're a Federal man," she said. "It's not just a question of being against you. Or for you. This is a big operation."
"I'm still in the dark," Terry said.
"You're hot," Hans said. "You need shelter. A hideout. Well, we can provide that. For a sum. But we have to be sure of you."
"I can provide my own hideout," Terry said.
"That's why you wanted to leave the stuff with Gina?" Hans jeered. "Come on, don't hand me that. We can give you cover till your buyer shows up."
"How do I know you won't take my loot and then dump me?" Terry asked.
"Because we have a reputation," Hans answered.
"What will all this cost me?"
"Five big ones a day," Hans said.
"You're on cloud nine," said Terry.
"That includes the best chow and the best nookie," Hans said. "You'll be in heaven."
"Where is this joint?"
"You'll find out in time," Hans said. "Well?"
"I don't know."
"You make up your mind. Contact Gina when you've decided." Hans moved away from the cocktail table. "Look, I'm not even touching your opium. You can leave it with me when you go or take it with you." He moved toward the door. He paused. "I hope you have enough cash in case you decide to become one of our boarders."
"I've got ten grand stashed away."
"Very good." Hans opened the door. "You decide and let Gina know. Good night, Mr. Scott."
"Good night," Terry said.
Hans closed the door behind him.
"I wonder why he left us alone?" Terry said.
"You-said he owed you something," Gina Clark reminded him. "You didn't touch your drink."
Terry moved to the divan. He held out his hand. She took it, sat down beside him. "You set me up," he accused her.
"So I did. Are you going to walk out indignantly?"
"And give up the chance to plow you? I'm not that much of a fool?"
"I opened your package out of curiosity," she explained. "When I saw the powder I figured there might be some money in it for me. I like money."
"More than sex?"
"Sex isn't everything," she said.
"And money is?"
"You're taking a chance with a federal rap because of money," she said.
"To me it's all an adventure."
"Oh, sure. You're out to get some kicks."
"Do I look like a narcotic smuggler?" he said.
"I've met big time pushers before," she said. "They come in all sizes and shapes."
"I'm tired of talking about business and money," he said. He put a hand on the back of her neck and drew her head toward his. Their lips met. His other hand seeked out her small breast and fondled the globe till he felt the nipple harden through the material of her gown. Her lips came away. "Don't take me for granted," she said.
"You've been tossing curves since the first minute we met," he reminded her. "Maybe I like to tease."
"Teasers get hurt."
"Are you the brutal type?"
"I hope not. But I can be. I always aim to please."
"If I can only be sure of you," she said.
"What difference does it make?"
"I'm not the type to consort with the enemy".
"You talk so tough," he said. "But you're not tough at all. I think you're putting on an act."
"I can be real tough if I have to."
"I don't think so." His hand slipped into her gown, found her naked breast. The nipple ticked his palm. He kissed the side of her neck, then pulled the gown off her shoulders, exposing her small breasts. His mouth found a niple.
Her body started to twist. "You bastard. You're taking unfair advantage." Her fingers ran through his hair. "The other one is jealous."
His mouth shifted to the other breast. His lips caressed the warm skin, then slid across the nipple, hardening it to new life.
Her hands tugged at his clothes. "I want to see your lob."
He got rid of his clothes, then carried her to bed. "You bastard," she said. "Where did you learn to make love?"
"From Alice."
"You liar."
"Don't talk."
He placed his head between her thighs opened his mouth, and let his lips encircle her womanhood.
She gasped as he made contact and screamed, bounced and twitched as his tongue flicked around inside her.
"Lick, baby, lick," she moaned. "Oh, I dig your action the most."
"You taste delicious," he said breathlessly. "Ooh, don't stop, baby," she begged. "Keep tonguing me."
He went back to doing what she begged for. "Oh, Baby," she moaned. "You make me boil!"
"It's your turn in the barrel now," he said sitting up.
"Oh, yes lover," she said getting up. "Let me taste it."
"Let me kiss it. Let me get my lips around it."
She bent her head and took his malehood into her mouth.
"Mmmmmm," she moaned as she engulfed it.
He let her nibble and draw on his manhood knowing that it built her up to the point of exploding. It helped him along the road to Valhala too.
When he knew that neither one of them could hold back any longer. He pulled her head away and pushed her down onto the bed. He crawled on top of her and placed himself between her thighs.
"Ready baby?" he asked.
"Go, baby, go!" she whispered huskily.
He rammed it home and she screamed in ecstasy.
He moved his hips up and down ... pumping away like a runaway piston.
She rotated her buttocks like a runaway fly wheel.
It didn't take them long to get there and they both blasted off and passed the milky-way together.
She had on lounging pajamas. She was sipping a drink. The record player was going.