Chapter 16
A Hijacking, A Pervert-and Horror
Tony watched as the fat lady stooped forward laboriously and picked up an armful of damp clothing from a laundry basket. She opened the glass door to the huge dryer and stuffed the clothing inside. She touched a button and the dryer began to spin, clothing tumbling.
Tony felt as though his stomach, too, were spinning, its contents sloshing inside. His hands were clammy and his shirt was damp with nervous perspiration. The revolver was a heavy, cold lump in his pocket.
The three of them were parked in front of a motel in the Cuban section, across the street from a laundromat.
"What time is it?" Race asked.
Tony looked at his watch. "Five minutes till eight."
Race was watching one of the apartments in the motel. Two cars were parked in front; one was Evon's yellow Jaguar. Race flexed his fingers on the steering wheel of the Cadillac he had stolen.
"I don't like it," he said nervously. "It's too quiet for any big game."
Dobber shivered between them. Little drops of perspiration dotted his forehead like chickenpox. Tony glanced at him. "You okay, Dobber?"
"Yeah, yeah-fine," Dobber said hurriedly.
"You'd better be, Junkie," Race said roughly. "If you queer this deal, I'll kill you."
Tony realized he might have made a mistake. He had confiscated Dobber's narcotics that morning and refused to let him have a fix. He wished now he had permitted him at least a little-to tide him over.
A taxi pulled up at the motel and two men-both expensively dressed-got out and walked to the apartment where the yellow Jaguar was parked. One was tall, thin and bald; the other short and tubby. They looked like Mutt and Jeff in the comics.
The bald man knocked on the door to the apartment. It opened a crack; both men looked about furtively and stepped hurriedly inside. Tony caught a glimpse of Yorty's red head at the doorway.
"Looks like business is picking up," said Tony.
"We'll give them a few minutes to get started," Race replied. "Then your broad should be opening the door." Race reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a couple of large handkerchiefs. He gave one to Tony. "Here, kid, tie this around your neck and pull it up over your face when the broad opens the door."
Tony fumbled with the handkerchief, finally getting it knotted loosely about his throat.
Race was watching him closely. "Take it easy, kid. Don't lose your head and get trigger happy. If you plug one of those weeds we will be in trouble. We'll have the cops on our tails. Just follow my lead and keep your mouth shut and your eyes open."
Race opened the car door. "Come on, kid, the weeds should be sitting down to their little game now. If your broad's on time, she should be unlocking that door any minute."
Tony got out of the car, his knees rubbery. Race turned to Dobber, "Get behind the wheel, Junkie," he snapped. "Start the engine and keep it running. I want this car rolling the second we jump into it, understand?" Dobber nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. His pasty face looked like a dead man's with all the blood pumped out.
Race slammed the car door, and he and Tony started walking to the apartment. "Don't hurry," Race cautioned, "make it look casual." Tony's thumping heart seemed to be doing cartwheels inside his chest.
They neared the apartment and slowed their gait. They paused by Evon's Jaguar, casually inspecting the car as if idly curious. They edged closer to the door. A chilling thought iced into Tony's mind: What if Yorty wouldn't let Evon open the door? Tony shuffled nervously. His feet wanted to dart away.
"Don't panic, kid," Race whispered hoarsely, his eyes riveted on the door of the apartment.
Tony heard a click at the door and the knob turned. The door opened a couple of inches.
"Be back in a minute." Tony recognized Evon's voice.
Pulling his handkerchief over his face, Race leaped to the door and slammed his shoulder against it. Tony covered his face and followed Race like a robot.
The door flew open, knocking Evon to the floor. Race pushed inside with Tony close behind. Race reached out and shoved the door closed as Evon screamed. Her cries sounded real enough-they made the hairs on the back of Tony's neck rise.
"Hands on the table!" Race bellowed. "I'll gut shoot the first weed that gets smart!"
Yorty and three men sat at a small table with thick rolls of money at their fingertips. Their faces were blank in surprise, their mouths open, as if caught in the middle of a sentence. The thin bald man had leaped in panic and was half-sitting, half-standing. Race waved his gun and the man sank back into his chair.
Tony realized he hadn't drawn his own revolver. He fumbled in his pocket, pulled it out and pointed it at Yorty.
"O.K. Everybody empty his pockets on top of the table," Race growled.
The little fat man closed his open mouth and gulped. "You can't get away with this."
Race swung his revolver, pointing it at the man's sagging belly. "Shaddup and empty your pockets, lard-ass."
Surprise left Yorty's freckled countenance. He shrugged, smiled thinly and took out his wallet. He tossed it on the table and regarded Race calmly. "We'll have it back within twenty-four hours, hood," he said matter-of-factly. "And we'll take the interest out on your hide."
Tony's uneasiness mounted. Something was wrong. Yorty was too much at ease, too unworried.
The other three men pulled out their wallets reluctantly and tossed them on the table. Evon sat on the floor where she had fallen. She was putting on a good act. Her eyes were wide and looked genuinely fear-struck.
Waving his revolver, Race moved over to the table and wrapped the money in the tablecloth. He tucked the bundle under his arm and backed toward the door.
Tony realized suddenly what had been bothering him. It was the absence of Henry, Yorty's bodyguard. Where was the ape man? He was always at Yorty's coat tail.
Tony backed toward the door with Race. A flicker of movement caught his eye.
"Tony! Look out!" Evon screamed. Tony wheeled as Henry and two other men with guns burst through the doorway. Tony realized they must have been staked out to watch the apartment.
Race turned and fired point-blank at one of the men. The guy grunted, grabbed his gut and a funny look came to his face. His gun clattered to the floor, then he folded like a jackknife and pitched forward on his face. Race bolted out the door.
Henry lunged at Tony, gorilla arms spread like the open jaws of a steel trap. The other man with the gun dived to the floor like a commando. He rolled over twice, then brought his gun up, leveling it at Tony's head. Tony sidestepped the charging Negro, forgetting the gun in his own hand. Tony darted through the door after Race just as the man's gun blasted from the floor. A bullet sang past Tony's ear like an angry bee.
Tony dashed for the car behind Race, fear driving his feet. He heard the men running out of the apart-men behind them. Tony and Race neared the car and the breath choked in Tony's throat. The engine was dead and there was no one behind the wheel.
"Goddamned junkies!" Race swore. "Goddamned dirty bastards!" He flung the car door open. Dobber was lying in the front seat, knees drawn up, shivering with chills. Race shoved him from under the wheel and leaped into the car. Shouts and running footsteps were just behind them. Tony moved to climb into the car just as another shot sounded. His knee buckled as if someone had suddenly kicked one of his legs from under him.
"Race ... I'm hit," Tony gasped.
Race glanced down, then leaned forward and started the car. He crammed it into gear and screeched away with one of the doors hanging open and banging closed as he took a curve on two wheels.
Tony clutched his thigh and felt blood ooze between his fingers. He had lost his gun somewhere.
Yorty and his gunman ran up to Tony. They jerked him roughly to his feet and dragged him back toward the apartment. "Take the girl's car!" Yorty ordered his henchman. "See if you can catch up with the other one. I'll take this guy and that Goddamned stool pigeon broad to the farm. You know where that is. Meet us there."
The man nodded, dropped Tony's arm and jumped into Evon's Jaguar. He started the engine and roared away, tires squealing like wounded animals.
Yorty dragged Tony to another car, opened the door and threw him into the back seat. Tony's thigh burned as if a flaming stick were thrust through it.
"Bring the girl!" Yorty yelled at the Negro. "We've got to get out of here before the cops come."
Henry dragged Evon, kicking and clawing, from the apartment and shoved her into the back seat beside Tony. Henry crawled in between them. Yorty slid under the wheel and the three other gamblers, faces pale with fear, squeezed into the front seat beside him.
"I thought you said there was no chance of a slip up," the tall one said bitterly. "Now we've lost a hundred grand."
"We'll get it back," Yorty assured through tight lips. "The bastard won't get far."
Tony heard excited voices as people ran out to see what the shooting was about. Yorty started the car and pulled away from the motel.
Evon lay sprawled half on the seat, half on the floorboard. Her blouse was torn and there was a ragged red mark on one of her cheeks where Yorty had slapped her. She raised her head groggily and looked at Tony. She reached out for him. "Oh, Tony ... you're bleeding."
Giggling like an idiot, Henry pushed her back, his hands lingering on her golden shoulders.
The pain diminished in Tony's thigh; the leg felt almost numb. He could feel blood running into his shoe. It squished as he moved his toes.
Yorty reached over the back of the seat and pulled the handkerchief from Tony's face. "A Goddamned kid!" he snorted. His eyes returned to the road, then glanced at Tony in the rear-view mirror. "Where's your partner going with our money, kid?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't know," he groaned. "He didn't tell me."
They approached a bright street light and Tony saw a small sports car approaching. Tony lurched forward, letting the light fall across his head and shoulders. He waved his arms. The car roared by and Tony caught a glimpse of a short-cropped blonde head behind the wheel, then Henry grabbed him and slammed him back against the seat. The Negro's great strength stunned Tony: It was like being seized in the hydraulic gears of a huge machine.
"Keep him down!" Yorty yelled. He looked into the mirror again. "Where's your partner going with the money?" Yorty asked Tony. Tony shook his head. Yorty nodded to Henry. The Negro, grinning with pleasure, clamped down on Tony's arm and twisted. Tony bit his lip to keep from screaming. "I don't know, dammit! I don't know!"
The Negro's grip tightened and Tony felt as though his arm was being pinched off. He twisted around and swung his fist at the Negro's head. The blow connected, but it was as though he had smashed his fist into a stone wall. Pain bit into his knuckles. Then a giant black fist chopped down, catching Tony in the back of the neck. Every brain cell in Tony's head seemed to explode. He pitched forward.
Tony heard a babble of voices. It was as though he was deep inside a dark cave and people were talking outside. A blast of coldness shot into his brain like shards of sharp ice crystals. He opened his eyes as his throbbing head cleared somewhat. Henry had sloshed a bucket of water over him.
Tony was lying on a splintery wooden floor. The place looked like an abandoned farmhouse. The floors and gaudily papered walls were thick with dust, and the only light came from a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling by a frayed and fly-specked cord.
Evon was lying on a dirty mattress. Her wrists and ankles were bound, her skirt curled up high on her thighs.
Tony moved his arms and legs and found that he, too, was bound. His wounded leg was numb. Someone had wrapped a dirty towel around it as a tourniquet. He saw Yorty but the other gamblers apparently had gone.
Yorty walked over and looked down at Tony. The man's freckled face was hard, light blue eyes icy with anger. "Are you ready to do a little talking now-before I turn Henry loose on you? You've just got a taste of what he can dish out. You should have seen what he did to the beach girl he found swimming nude one night."
Tony looked at Yorty. "Go to hell!"
Yorty reddened and the blotchy freckles seemed ready to leap off his face like large fat bugs. He reached down and grabbed Tony's shirt front. His big fist knotted and smashed into Tony's face. Tony's head snapped back and struck the wall. The fist smashed again and Tony's ears rang. Blood gushed from his nose, spurting onto the floor.
Yorty raised. Tony's blood flecked the back of his hand. "Okay..., pal, if you want to play it stupid. We'll have some fun with your little stool pigeon friend."
Yorty strode over to the bed where Evon lay. He reached down and grasped her dress with both hands and ripped it from her body. Buttons popped to the floor and rolled. Henry moved up beside Yorty and stood looking down at Evon's golden body, clad only in panties and bra. Lust worked in his little animal eyes like live maggots.
Evon had guts; she didn't cry out. She lay with her eyes closed, a little muscle in her shoulder twitching.
"Beat it out of her, Henry," Yorty said wearily. "Use your belt."
The Negro giggled insanely. He unbuckled his wide belt and slipped it off. He curled it in his hand as if handling a squirming black snake. He advanced to the bed, raised the belt and lashed it down across Evon's white-pantied buttucks. Evon choked off a strangled cry, biting into her lip.
Henry laughed, and the sound was like the rumble of gases in the stomach. His gorilla arm moved up and down in a blur. The belt made little whistles in the air, then thudded fleshily across Evon's hips and buttocks. She squirmed on the bed, trying to evade the blows, but she didn't cry out again.
Tony tried to rise, but his bonds bit into his wrists and ankles. Little curling streaks of blood soaked through Evon's white panties as she writhed under the blows.
Yorty signaled the Negro who reluctantly stopped the beating.
"Are you ready to tell us where your partner cut out to, bitch?" Evon buried her face in the filthy mat-trees, silent sobs shaking her body. She didn't answer.
Yorty nodded to Henry and pointed toward a closet door from which a large clothes hook protruded. Yorty's freckled face was hard as speckled granite. "Strip the bitch. Hang her on the door and beat her until she talks. When we get through the sight of her will turn a guy's stomach."
The Negro's little perverted eyes shone like polished marbles. He leaned down and scooped Evon up as though she were a child's doll. She tried to twist around and sink her teeth into him, but his arms were like massive steel beams. He lifted her up and fastened her lashed wrists onto the hook. He released her and she sagged forward heavily. He reached out to rip away her underclothes, grinning mindlessly. A dribbling of saliva ran from the corner of his thick lips.
"Wait!" Tony cried, "I'll tell you!" His mind groped for a name. "It's the-the Seaview Motel."
Yorty looked at him suspiciously. "What's the address?" he asked curtly.
"I-I don't know."
Yorty strode over to a table and picked up a phone book. He thumbed through it rapidly, pausing to run his finger down a page. He hurled the book down on the table. "There's no such place." He nodded to the Negro and took out a silver cigarette case. "She's all yours, Henry."
The Negro giggled, reached out with both hands and grasped Evon's sheathed breasts. Evon closed her eyes and turned her face toward the wall. She shuddered. The black fingers closed on the bra and pulled? Her body twisted sideways, then the bra strap broke in the back and the garment dropped from her body. Her golden, pink-tipped breasts spilled free.
Yorty lighted a cigarette, watching the Negro's actions. Henry grasped the band of Evon's panties and stripped them down. Her buttocks and upper thighs were crisscrossed with welts, some oozing blood. Henry picked up the thick belt and whipped it across her breasts. Evon's body stiffened and cringed. A little animal moan tore from her throat. Tony strained at his bonds until he felt blood running down his wrists and into the palms of his hands. A jagged red streak appeared across the soft, golden flesh of Evon's breasts. The belt lashed across Evon's stomach and her body flinched, twisting away from the cruel blows. "Goddamn you!" she screamed defiantly.
Someone pounded on the door. Yorty threw down his cigarette and pulled a gun from his belt. He moved over to the door cautiously. "Who is it?"
"It's Kinslew. I've got one of them."
Yorty unlocked the door and threw it open. The man who had taken Evon's Jaguar lurched inside, half-carrying, half-dragging Dobber, who looked as though he had been run through a meat chopper. His torn clothing was soaked with blood; one of his arms was broken, twisted grotesquely. His nose was half torn from his face.
Yorty's man let Dobber fall to the floor.
"I found him beside the road," Kinslow said, "the other guy must have thrown him out of the car at high speed. He's barely alive."
"For God's sake, why did you bring him here?" Yorty asked, irritated. "What are we going to do with him? Why didn't you just leave him in the road?"
"He mumbled something about a motel. I think he knows where the other guy is headed, if we can bring him around to talk."
Yorty walked over to a filthy sink, filled a pan and hurled the water into Dobber's ground-meat face. Dobber moaned and gulped. He tried to rise, then sank back.
"Where'd your friend go, clod?" Yorty asked. Kicked you out of the car, didn't he? Tell us where he went and we'll get even for you."
Dobber blinked eyes that looked as though they were turned upside down in his head. Blood ran from a dozen gashes in his body. He seemed to recognize Tony.
"For God's sake tell them, Dobber, if you know!" Tony cried. "Don't protect that bastard!"
"I ... heard him say ... the Driftwood Motel..." Dobber's body shook with violent trembling and his eyes glazed over. His breathing sounded like two rusty files rubbing.
Yorty leaned down and turned Dobber over on his back. "He's out again. Looks like he's about done for." He turned to the other man. "Come on. Let's go get our money back." They walked to the door.
"How about us?" Tony asked. "You found out what you wanted to know. At least let Evon go."
Yorty glanced back. "They're all yours, Henry. Make sure you weight the bodies down when you dump them in the swamp."
The two men left, and Tony felt grim fear claw at his guts.
Henry giggled, his bestial face grinning in perverted rapture. He ogled Evon and slowly put his belt back on. He reached into his pocket and took out a switchblade knife with a black handle. He pressed a catch and a long blade shot out. He advanced toward Evon, grinning like a skull. Evon sagged against the door looking as though she were unconscious. Tony hoped she was.
The Negro reached out to caress her body. Tony closed his eyes as dizziness spun into his brain. He felt sick. His body retched but no vomit rose in his throat.
He heard Evon whimper, then scream in agony. Her cries tore Tony apart. He tossed on the floor, hopelessly fighting his bonds. She screamed again and again, her thrashing legs crashing against the door as she writhed in unspeakable agony. And the Negro laughed all the while: It was like laughter echoing up from the darkest, deepest corner of hell.
Then after a while there were no more cries. Tony heard a shuffling of feet moving toward him. He opened his eyes. The leering animal-man leaned down, knife moving toward Tony's throat. Blood covered the knife and the Negro's shirt. From the corner of his eye Tony saw a butchered thing hanging from the door. It more resembled the dripping carcass of an animal than a woman. Tony closed his eyes in horror and waited for the cold touch of the knife.
A siren wailed in the distance, growing louder. The Negro straightened and cocked an ear toward the sound like an animal, listening. The siren grew nearer until its shriek seemed to be in front of the house, then its moan faded slowly like a puff of wind. Car doors slammed outside.
Fear shot into the Negro's little eyes. He ran to the window, pulled back the curtain and peered out. He scurried back to a table, pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it, mumbling insanely. Failing to find what he was looking for, he heaved the drawer to the floor and looked about the room in confused panic. Mumbling, he turned and ran to a rear door. He threw it open and ran outside.
Tony heard shouts and the sharp reports of two shots.