The Queen and The Viper Read online

  His breath was regular but rapid but he was alive. A few seconds later she took to fingers and checked the smear of blood on his temple. Only a scalp wound, nothing to worry about. But it had been, that not killing him, may have actually saved the queen from prison. That was her hope anyway. Swiftly her fingers dipped into a tiny pocket inside her cape, and drew out a small object which glistened in the dim light. It was a little hypodermic syringe, previously loaded with a quick acting drug she had found during her time in the East. The drug, though harmless was more than strong enough to render the victim unconscious for several hours and make the poor victim wake up feeling like they’d done a round with a prize fighter. A small motion came next and the sharp needle sank home. It’s clear fluid finding its place beneath his skin. Peggy Ellen let her expert skills take the lead now. Her movements quick, precise and executed with a level of skill that was truly amazing. She picked up the briefcase, opened it and very quickly scanned its contents. Her photographic memory taking in as much detail as she deemed important. Her features lit up with a perfect smile, as she read documents here and there, before replacing perfectly the contents as they were before she rifled through. Then she placed the case back on the front passenger sear of Dunham’s car.

  She moved with precision a minute later and took a roll of cord from the garage locker, and went about binding the hands and feet of this unconscious man. Bending over him she bit of a strip of duct tape from a small but very strong roll, then put it back in a handy wrist bag concealed in her glove. Then carefully applied it across his mouth. Despite being strong for a woman of her size, she struggled to get the bound figure into the rear trunk of the sedan. He was not a large man, but his limp drugged body, was now nothing more than a dead weight. It took every ounce of her one hundred and twenty five pound frame to accomplish the task. She was panting softly when she had finished and slammed down the trunk door. Stealing the car she backed the big beast noiselessly from the garage, wasting precious moments in shutting the garage doors. Although her heart was churning madly from excretion and excitement, she was as cool as an autumnal breeze as she swung the sedan about in the street. Pressing a heeled shoe down hard on the accelerator. A sly laugh of triumph burst from her lips as she removed her mask, and drove the big car head first proudly into the night.

  His hand found the wall, inch by inch he crawled on all fours along it. He had no clue how big the room was, the gun flash revealed nothing and the silencer had killed all echo’s. The seconds were ticking by, but he forced himself to slow down, as he edged along the wall and hoped if he met the shooter, he could act with the element of surprise on his side, and get to him before a finger could squeeze a trigger. Then Jack froze on the spot, as if a thousand volts had passed right through him, as a few feet ahead of him he saw it. A faint glow! It was only there for a brief fleeting moment. A minute later he saw it again gleaming faintly like a bit of rotten wood on a dark night in the swamplands neat Coast City. Then he clued it, realizing what it was. His opponent had forgotten to remove a watch, that seemed to have a luminous pair of hands on it. Those kind of watches were rare and cost, these fools have that kind of many to waste. Jack thought coldly, the kind of money his shooting friend had spent on that trinket was probably twice what he earned as Lieutenant in a month. Either way Jack knew it was a rookie mistake in this game of death! Again that ever so slight glow on the watch vanished, only to reappear seconds later. That was when Jack Malone reasoned that the watch maybe, being worn on the inside of the man’s wrist. It was visible for the briefest moments when the shooter turned his arm at a certain angle, that the slight glow was visible. Jack was now in the zone, he felt alive like a jungle cat on the prowl, alert for the next sighting of that rare little glow. At the next little glow Jack planned to crawl as best he could with a broken wrist towards the second player. Moving his lean body with exaggerated slowness, so the sound of clothing rustling couldn't betray his position.

  Jack was now only concerned with one thing, his plan had only one possible flaw. That the House may have a few little obstacles or surprises placed in his way. They seem the type, cowards! He cursed to himself. Step by Step. Minute by minute he got closer to the shooters position. He had to stop himself again once or twice, as the urge to drop stealthy and risk it all, entered his mind. The idea of just charging the shooter head on. Time was his enemy now and it was almost up! He knew the second his hour was up, he would take the Big Sleep. He’d die, even if he within mere inches of the finish line. Yet he was able to keep himself in check, moving forward an inch or two at a time. Finally he struck gold. He was close enough to faint concerned breathing, was the other player being made to do this as he was? From the sound of the breaths it definitely a man, could this be the next Contentment victim? He couldn’t think like that, not yet. His tired muscles began to tense under all the effort his body was now under hunched as he was. At the single moment those little glowing rays of hope, were no longer visible, he told himself this would be his only shot. Man or woman, it didn’t matter if he hit them squarely on the chin, he’d have a fighting chance to end this. Yet if I miss well Jackie-boy that’ll be all she wrote! He thought dryly.

  A minute later those little fingers, showed themselves again.

  With a low charge Jack made his move and dove at its wearer. His shoulder hit hard against a human body, then his heart stopped “PLEASE DON’T!” “It couldn’t be, that sounded like his Peggy? Had they got to her too?” panicked the police Lieutenant. Either way it was to late to stop his momentum whoever it was, was taking the trip with Jack, his broken wrist got another pounding blurring his vision from the pain. Then the gun exploded so close to him that he felt the hot lick of the guns hot gas being released. Then he shot out his fist taking the woman off her feet for good. He hated doing it, especially if it was her but what choice did he have. As she went down hard, he was glad al those teenage boxing lessons his dad forced him into, had paid off. As the woman went down her final shot was let lose, but with the last shot spent Jack’s attacker was lost. She’d got to her feet “PLEASE-STOP!” she pleaded, her plea telling him that it wasn’t Peggy, so despite not wanting to hit her again, he did. Wrapping a lean arm around her, he bent her over as a knee shot up. Connecting with the woman’s nose with a satisfying crunch. In two minutes she was lying unconscious. Jack had done it

  Chapter Nine

  A pale red light flashed overhead. In it’s pale scarlet light a violent scene had been uncovered: The woman who Jack struck was in fact a lean man in drag, unconscious on the floor, and another man Jack standing over him gun in hand. Then the light flashed back into black darkness and tomb-like silence. What now? he wondered. Jack’s leg’s gave way. He needed to catch his breath, in the darkness he quietly ran his fingers over the body next to him. Then cam the arrogant voice he had heard before the game. No longer monotone but like that of a child at Christmas.

  “Well you won our little game. Well done Mr. Malone” he said “I hate to admit it, your a great risk to our little organization that we first gave you credit for. But the House must and will let you go. We of the House’s inner circle are gentleman and we will always keep our word.” Again Jack turned back to his brooding silence. “It is obvious your a smart man. You must realize now that if you carry on chasing us or going after the Contentment case. The next game you are made to play, will be bigger and frankly more deadly. No matter where you might go in this world. We would reach out and get you.” The voice of the House got deep again and held a hidden menacing threat in its words.

  “Mr. Malone it would be a sound course of action to forget us. When the light goes on again, there will be a corner table. On the table you will find two things, on the left you will see a large manilla envelope. On the right a single glass filled with a clear liquid. The envelope contains $175.000 in cold clean laundered cash. Take the money you become part of the house. Refuse it though, ans before we set you free and we will, you must down the contents of the glass and leave not
a drop. Mr Malone you also have our word as gentleman the contents will do you no harm. It is simply an opiate of our own design.” So was this the real game all along? Kind needed to know more, so he listened as the voice went on.

  “If your a fool and think you can have both, or refuse the money heed this warning. The first move made you outside these walls. Will mean your death, the next time however we may play no elaborate games with you, instead find a proxy to take your place. Maybe a loved one, be it mother, farther, lover, mistress of wife. Who knows, so choose now and choose wisely!”

  The lights flashed back on again, blanketing everything in it’s red hue. There as they said he would a small corner table at the furthest end of the room. He walked up to it as cockily and sure of himself as he could fake. He didn’t really know who he was trying to impress, them or him. As right now he was spent, and running on destroyed nerves. When he got to the small table, he carried on his show of mock bravado and with beat of hesitation closed on the glass. Lifting it high, he gave a quick salute to the voice, and drank deeply. Eye’s half-shut his show of strength carried him through, then with a defiant smile he felt his legs buckle. Then go from under him, sending him into a heap on the floor.

  Robinson, covered his mouth, his eyes wide “Honestly Morgan I SWEAR, to the mother superior and her holly husband, there wasn’t a soul on the stairs on it the corridor when I came up, especially one in his underwear————”

  “How’d you happen to come up, anyway?”

  “Why when the purple rinse, two doors down comes scuttling down to the street, yelling for the ‘police’ I hot footed it up here.”

  “A woman? What kind of a woman?” Morgan enquired, “you know an ordinary woman, old pensioner type maybe late sixties if I had to take a swing, plump to with an ass as big as a Buick, a real curtain twitcher you know the type— other that I cant say Morgan!”

  “What’s she say?”

  “well she had a strange warble mixed with a lot of cuss words, but the general, was ‘quick help police, there’s a brawl going on right outside my door. They all look like they mean business to, the rackets getting out of control.’ then she say ‘hurry! Oh I cut the cuss out as trust me the words she was using would make your hair curl. So anyway I came up running in case you needed a hand, so I came up on the jump and—”

  Morgan tried for a third time to get to his feet, but thought better of it, “Robinson, where is she now, go get her if you can.” Morgan’s partner ponded out into the hall, downstairs, as he finally managed to get to his feet, even if he was using the furniture around himself, to keep him from falling. In his dash outside Robinson had left the door open, as an excited hum of voices from 971’s resident drifted up from the corridor. Inside Bell’s room Morgan had managed to make his way to the gun on the wooden floor boards, taking out a pencil, he stuck it in the guns barrel, lifting it off the floor. Wrapping it in a handkerchief, then he carefully broke the gun pouring the brass rounds out into his pocket. Only one brass jacket had been fired from the.38, the plug hole in that poor bastard Johnson looked like it had been made by the right calibre for this gun, Morgan thought clinically. That’s when Robinson ran back,

  “Whoever that women was she’s pulled fast one on me, but according to the landlord the broad doesn’t even live here, she’s well and truly in the wind now.”

  “So is our underwear wearing friend.” Morgan said putting down the revolver, he took another slug from Robinson’s hip flask, emptying it.

  “It don’t really matter who the skirt is or was, but I figure you summed it up right partner.” Robinson wiped his forehead, as Morgan passed him back his hip flask.

  “So Morgan you think it was Bell who plugged our ball of lard?”

  “Possible, pal” Morgan said with a little grin as his partner went to take a swig out of the now empty flask. “Oh thanks for saving me some by the way. But I still think we’re both right on this one” Morgan paused as he glanced back at the gun.

  “Well my gun was still holstered when all this went down. It looks like my guns gone to, so its possible my gun was taken and used to plug him. Somebody else though but not me, anyhow!” he said to his partner as he gazed around the room “Worst part is I couldn't even snatch a look at our mug before I hit the deck, he was covering his face with a towel. Plus whoever he was always did his best to keep his hairy back to me.” He was more beat up about that, than taking a blow to the head, his cops pride had been well and truly dented, he’d been a detective for less than a day and he’d already let his man go.

  Bell, wasn’t his attacker his gut told him that, he wasn’t the one who crowned him from behind the door of Room K. Maybe his unseen attacker had been Johnson, he wish he knew but everything was still very vague. In any case, what was the owner of the Herald of Contentment Matrimonial Agency doing here anyway? What was he doing when he told Jack that he had no clue who Bell was before that letter?

  A siren wailed outside, it would be here any moment, after all the nearest precinct with a dispatcher was only five minutes away. “Do us a favour Robinson, holler down, tell him to get a needle and thread for a patch job!”

  “Partner forget that, you need a hospital, have an x-ray to well make sure your all there.”

  Morgan stumbled a little as he made his way to a closet, dragging a chair with him so he could sit and snoop through it. “Pal other than a sore head I’m as messed up and wrangled as I’ve been the last decade so don’t worry. Say did you buzz Costner after the medical dispatcher.” he queried.

  “He’s on his way with the calvary now”

  Robinson went out into the hall, and shouted down the stairwell, as Morgan looked in the closet, it was empty. Well other than three wire coat hangers and a pin up of Miss February 14th in the nude. For some reason the closet had a slight smell that reminded him of a church. The smell was definitely a strange thing, it must have come from either the previous contents or resident of Room K. He then went about from his sitting vantage looking for whatever blunt object he was knocked out with. His trained eye couldn't find anything heavier that a waste-paper basket. That to was empty, except for a crumpled ball of cellophane, that looked like it may have come from a packet of cigarette’s. Taking out a pen he fished it out and put it one a corner table. Five minutes later police doctors arrived and begun pandering to the detective. Minutes later Costner and two plain clothes police women came into the room. While the clumsy ham-fisted doctor, jabbed Morgan with the needle through his pained sore scalp. As the patched up detective told the captain what he thought needed to happen.

  “Might be a good play sit to bag the cellophane, run it down to our smart folk. There might be prints on it, maybe someone from the P.W.B. could come down to photograph and powder the place, oh an all the furniture too. Oh and ladies can one of you be all doll and run the vacuum around, clean up and take the dust down to the lab.” One of the plain clothes women gave him a playful smile and kick. Morgan was frankly surprised he didn’t get a slap to boot, not that he was complaining. After all he’d been used as a punch bag enough times today already.

  Costner crouched over the stumpy pair of legs. “So who’s the ball of fat detective?”

  “It was the crumb, Jack and Peggy. Sorry sir I mean Lieutenant Malone and Acting Detective Sergeant Ellen, were looking into, this guy he ran the police division’s, that seemed to link all the dames in the Contentment case. They thought he knew the bag of bones, your boys dug up, you know the one you showed the Lieutenant before he went missing. By the way sir, any news on Jack he turned up yet.”

  “Not a hair lad, sorry but the P.W.B have put a good handful of their women on it and I’ve put six uniformed patrols on, to look over and retrace Jacks movements, maybe with both precincts doing a search and canvas, we may find him.”

  “Well that’s something, Oh by the way ladies make me a nice cup of tea and look through the guys pockets will you” his reply was another playful kick “Sir, it might be wise to speak to the La
ndlord or his lady, you never no they might no something. I doubt it but still..”

  The police women going through his pockets spoke “We think he may have some kind of night job. Well it makes sense I guess. Considering from what we can tell he only seems to come here during the daytime. Plus the only thing his neighbour ever notice’s in here other than the usual, is boxes. Boxes of writing paper, typewriter ribbon, Ink and pen’s. Not to forget of course the books of postal stamps. So he must like to write one hell of a lot of letters.”

  “Really, well see if you can find anything in the bins, and crumpled mistaken ridden page or whatever could get us somewhere.”

  * * *

  The police Captain, seemed quite pleased that the field promotion he’d given Morgan had paid off, he had a hunch he was going to be one of the best, someday. “From what police officer Wilkins learned at the P.W.B, our Mr. Bell was practically on the breadline, despite his possible night job. But there was plenty of unpaid bills flagged up in his records.” Police Woman Wilkins stood up from the pocket search, taking out her pocket book and read out just a few of the notes she’d made Bell’s red flags

  “Detective, it looks like he’s been hitting the Ritz, from what we can tell from his most recent binge’s. We found that a credit jewellery store had got a small claims summons out on him, which of course seems to have ignored. The summons sited him for non-payment of a diamond wrist watch, A pearl necklace and an Emerald eternity ring. All were for females too by the looks.”

  She tossed down the small leather bound pocket book, who flipped through the next few pages all noting similar summons for ladies fashion boutiques, parlours and the like. Eventually he stopped on a page full of nothing but I.O.U’s for several Woolworth’s stores all over Liberty and the nearby town’s.