Comes the Dark Stranger - Jack Higgins [24]
Shane raised his eyebrows. ‘Who told you - Wilby?’
Steele grinned. ‘Poor old Joe. You’ve really frightened him, you know. He seems to think you’re going to knock him off at any moment.’
‘You know why I’m here then?’ Shane said.
Steele nodded casually. ‘Yes, he did say something about it.’
‘And what about Adam Crowther?’ Shane said. ‘What did he have to say?’
Steele seemed genuinely surprised. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t seen Crowther for months.’
‘That’s damned funny,’ Shane said, ‘Considering that I saw him leaving the club not more than half an hour ago.’
Steele shook his head. ‘You must have been mistaken.’
Shane clenched his fists and tried to control himself. ‘You’re lying,’ he said.
Steele smiled politely. ‘Am I, old man?’
There was a moment’s silence and Shane said softly, ‘Was it you, Reggie?’
Steele raised his glass and looked straight into his eyes. ‘And what if I say it was?’
Shane’s hand dipped into his jacket pocket and came out holding the Luger. ‘If it was, I’m going to kill you here and now,’ he said hoarsely.
Steele gazed into the muzzle of the gun for a moment and then suddenly he threw back his head and laughed. ‘No, I didn’t talk to that Chinese bastard and even if I had done, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.’ He leaned across the desk and pushed the barrel of the Luger away from him. ‘For God’s sake put that thing away before they put you back in the madhouse.’
Shane replaced the Luger in his pocket and walked slowly towards the door. When he reached it he turned and his eyes were burning. ‘The minute I prove it’s you, I swear I’ll kill you,’ he said.
Steele laughed lightly and shook his head. ‘I know you better than you know yourself, Shane. Killing Chinese in Korea was one thing, but killing me now in cold blood would be quite another. You’ll never summon up the nerve to pull that trigger until you’re absolutely sure and you’ll never be able to get your proof. It’s been too long.’
Shane shook his head and said coldly, ‘I’ll get my proof and if it turns out to be you, I’ll be coming for you.’ He closed the door and moved along the corridor.
Jenny Green was leaning in the open doorway of her dressing-room and as he approached, she grinned. ‘You look like a wet weekend.’
He tried to smile. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’
She slipped one of the club cards into his hand. ‘I’ve written my address on the other side. Just in case you feel like calling.’
There was a slight movement behind and Shane turned quickly and found Frenchy standing watching them. ‘Is this mug bothering you, kid?’ he said to Jenny.
There was fear in her eyes and she shook her head quickly. ‘No, Frenchy, it’s all right. Just a friend.’ She smiled briefly at Shane, and disappeared into her dressing-room, closing the door.
As Shane started to move away, Frenchy grabbed his arm. ‘Mr Steele doesn’t like people to bother the girls, Jack.’ His fingers felt like steel bands as he deliberately exerted all his considerable strength.
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me Jack. It isn’t my name,’ Shane said coolly. His free hand darted forward and fastened around Frenchy’s left arm just below the elbow, his thumb biting into the pressure point.
An expression of purest agony flooded over Frenchy’s face and as he staggered back, Shane kicked him under the left knee-cap. He left him there, half-collapsed against the wall, mouthing obscenities and went down the steps that led to the stage.
It was only a little after nine when he left the club and walked back through the streets to his hotel. The fog seemed to move in on him with a terrible weightless pressure that made him dizzy and light-headed.
There was a dull ache behind his eyes and he felt weak and drained of all emotion. He got his key from the night porter at the desk and mounted the stairs to his room.