Secret Service
1938-
7
Rafferty drove the city streets aimlessly. He had dropped Billy Bones in the hands of
the Yard. He couldn’t do anything else until he had a clear line of attack. He didn’t
know enough about the girlfriend to act against her.
Breaking into the Yellow Rose didn’t seem advisable. That would definitely trigger
some kind of interference from Six.
He needed another path. Chasing down Bones hadn’t gotten him anything he could
use.
Maybe he should talk to others he knew worked for Brown. He didn’t have to worry
about the spy business. If he wrecked enough operations, the spies would make an
alliance with someone else.
Rafferty wondered how Hawley did with the bullets from the shooting on the street.
Would they link back to Bones? He needed to make a call and find out.
Would Hawley be at his desk? It was almost ten. Maybe he would be there. Maybe
he was supervising something in the field.
He pulled his car over in front of a rectangular cube of a phone booth. He had to
know something before he acted again.
He might need to look at the files on Brown. Maybe there was something buried in
the notes that he could use. He had a broad sense of the man, but what he needed was
minutiae that he could use to drive a wedge in a chink in the man’s armor.
Dressing up as a mad man had helped him some. No one wanted to face a loon.
Getting hurt was so easy, and healing so hard.
Once he talked with Hawley, he needed to sit down and think of his next move.
He couldn’t go on flailing in the dark. He needed to pick a target and take it. Then he
needed to repeat the process. Finding Billy Bones so easy had been something he
hadn’t counted on. He had expected the man to go to ground after a murder.
Maybe Bones hadn’t killed Corklin. That was a possibility. Maybe he had hunted
down the wrong man on a bad assessment. Maybe the other man Hawley had
mentioned had been the one to take a shot at him. Or it could be someone they don’t
know about yet.
He dialed the phone number for Hawley’s office. Once he had talked to the Inspector,
maybe he would have a better idea of what was going on.
“Hawley,” said the inspector.
“It’s me, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “How are things going?”
“Someone acted fast on the shootings,” said Hawley. “Another man in the division
was ready to compare the bullets from Corklin to the house near the Unicorn. They
were the same.”
“Have you found Billy Bones yet?,” asked Rafferty. He didn’t need to mention he had
found Bones and put a bullet in him.
“They’re bringing him in right now,” said Hawley. “He had a weapon with his
fingerprints on it. He says a masked man shot him. You wouldn’t happen to know
anything about that?”
“No,” said Rafferty. “A masked man shot him? I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
“Stay out of the trouble,” said Hawley. “If the bullets match up from Bones’s weapon
to the two shootings that happened tonight, then he will stand trial for murder. If they
don’t, our masked friend shot Bones for nothing.”
“Good point,” said Rafferty. “I have to go, Inspector. I just saw someone I know.”
“Don’t do anything rash,” said Hawley. “We’re going over Corklin’s house. There
might be evidence he was paid to testify against you.”
“It’s too late to save my career, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “Watch out for yours. If
they put a fraud in motion to stop my testimony, what would they do to you?”
“Good point,” said Hawley.
“I’ll call back when the sun is up,” said Rafferty. “I have to go.”
Rafferty hung up the phone and left the booth. He scanned the street. He nodded
when he saw the same car moving along the street. He didn’t see any place to go. If
he went for the car, he would be shot trying to start the engine.
He started walking toward the car. He still had the Webley, even though the rest of
the disguise was in his car. He wondered who was driving the car.
Had they followed him around all night? Did they know what he had done? Did they
know about the deal with Sir Laurence?
The driver leaned out of the window of his car. He pointed a pistol at Rafferty. The
detective dove for cover. Bullets punched holes in the wall behind him as he pushed
himself down the sidewalk.
The car accelerated from the shooting. The driver took one look behind him but
couldn’t shoot backwards from the window. It turned a corner and vanished out of
sight.
Rafferty picked himself up. Maybe he had been wrong about Bones. Maybe there was
another guy trying to kill him. What was his next move?
He decided to call in and let Sir Laurence know he might be compromised. There was
no way to know how long the guy had been watching him, or if he had seen what had
happened at the casino, or Bones’s shooting.
He had no way of denying what he had done if the man revealed everything about
what he had done to the press.
How did he deal with this?
This was bad. Maybe moving from the flat provided by Sir Laurence had been the
thing to do in retrospect. If he had been followed long enough, then the man might
know about the place.
He needed a place to hide out that no one knew about. Then he had to think of a way
to get Brown and tie him to any scheme he was undertaking.
He stepped back in the booth and called the agency number. He might as well have
someone come out and collect the spent rounds. Maybe they would tie to other
crimes.
“Operator,” said the familiar second voice he had dealt with earlier in the night. “State
your name.”
“Rafferty,” said the detective. “Someone took a shot at me. I think I went after the
wrong man.”
“Right,” said the Operator. “I will let Sir Laurence know. Anything else?”
“See if you can dig up anything on a man named Jimmy Skillet,” said Rafferty. “He
supposedly died in a fire. Dig up what you can about that especially.”
“Is there a reason for this search?,” asked the Operator.
“I was given the names of two men who specialized in shooting from cars,” said
Rafferty. “I already turned one of those men in to the police. If the other is alive, I
would like to know it. Otherwise, I have a third man with the same method of
operations. Since I don’t know his name, I have to engage with what I do know so I
can rule out the second man.”
“Understood,” said the Operator. “I will start the search from my end. Call back in a
few hours.”
“Thank you,” said Rafferty. He hung up the phone. What did he do now?
Maybe Billy Bones would go to his trial for someone else’s murder. That was
acceptable to the detective. The core of his problem became the identity of the second
man. If he had been followed around town, the man might know where his flat was,
and where he had gotten the car.
He had to come up with a strategy to turn the tables on the man so he could find out
who the man worked for and how to bring them in.
There was not a lot he could do at the moment. Hawley and his investigators were
handling Billy Bones. Sir Laurence’s people were looking into Jimmy Skillet. Maybe
something would jump out at him when he had a nap.
And he wasn’t sure that Fletcher’s flat was safe since he didn’t know if he had been
seen going in and out of the building. This was the first night, so the landlord
probably didn’t know what his tenant looked like.
Maybe he should look over the scene of Jimmy Skillet’s death himself.
He realized he didn’t have the address. That would wait for the next phone call to the
operator.
What else could he do about this?
He decided the best thing he could do was get some sleep. He couldn’t chase down
leads that weren’t there. He needed to let Hawley and the Operator gather information
for him to use the next night.
He planned to go out the next night. He had jumped at Fletcher’s offer of a job to get
back at Brown for ruining his career. Now he wanted to go out because he wanted to
know how the pieces fit together.
He had to know what was really going on, and how everything fit together. He didn’t
have a choice in the matter now.
Rafferty found a small hotel away from the center of the city and checked in. His car
was parked in a public lot down the road. It was the best he could do for the moment.
The next step was to get some sleep and hope someone had answers for him in the
morning when he got started again.
He went up to his room and placed a chair under the knob to alert him to people
trying to get in. He placed a table and lamp in the window for the same reason. A
pillow went under the blanket on the bed. He lay on the floor with the bed between
him and the window.
He hoped his security arrangements were just paranoia. Two people shooting at him
in the night were more than that. He wondered if it was the same man as he dropped
off to sleep.
The sun coming into the window in the morning woke him up. He got up and looked
around. Everything was the same as when he left it. He needed to clean up and check
out.
The next thing he had to do was call in and see if he had any leads. Otherwise, he
would have to go around and talk to people he knew in the street.
They wouldn’t want to talk to him. He was a disgraced and fired detective from the
Yard. The only reason he had for coming around was getting back at whomever had
set him up. And he wouldn’t have the money for bribes or the threat of his authority
behind him.
He would have to make up for it with his own force of arms. He didn’t like that. It
meant making threats that he would have to carry out, instead of putting someone in
jail and letting things get sorted out from there.
It wouldn’t be the first time he had to get his hands dirty. Now that he was working
for Fletcher, he doubted it would be the last.
Rafferty cleaned up in the sink provided with the room. He put everything back and
headed downstairs. He paid his bill and stepped out in the street. He checked and
headed back to his car.
He checked the car and nodded when everything was like he left it. He got in and
started the engine.
What was his first move for the day?
His stomach growled and told him he had to get something to eat before he did
anything else.
Once he was done with breakfast, he would call Hawley and Fletcher. Maybe they
had something he could use.
Then he would start beating the bushes for anyone who wanted him dead.
He knew that could be a long list. The thought he had before he went to sleep bubbled
up in his mind as he drove around. Maybe he was facing two men who liked to shoot
from cars.
He turned that over in his mind. It might be possible. How did he prove it? Were they
linked to Brown? If they were smart, they wouldn’t talk.
Brown had a reputation for making people he didn’t like vanish. Other ganglords
dealt with him from a distance. An open war would cause problems for everybody
and no one wanted to be the one to fire the first shot.
But none of them liked Brown either, so he had no allies if things did turn into an
open war.
And if some outside force were to apply heat to Brown, the others would take what
they could from him. He couldn’t fight all of them and someone attacking his
operations.
How did Rafferty capitalize on that?
Maybe he should talk to the man. That might get him something. He didn’t know
what.
He didn’t want a bullet for his troubles.
Rafferty smiled at that. A bullet would be the least of his problems if he got a chance
to talk to Brown. The gangster didn’t allow a lot of people to get close to him. He
preferred to push his lawyer and his thugs out in front of the police.
There had to be a way to change all that. He didn’t see it. He needed something
Brown wanted so he could arrange a trade he didn’t plan to go through with so he
could figure out a way to change things around. He didn’t plan to run his whole life
from the underworld just because he had been that close to burying his enemy in a
prison for the rest of his life.
Brown, and everyone associated with him, were going to spend part of their life in
prison, or shot, when he was done.
He didn’t care which was which at this point.
He saw a phone on the wall near the desk for the hotel. He went over and put some
change in the slot at the top of the machine. He dialed Hawley’s number first. There
was a chance that the inspector had not arrived at his office yet. A call to make sure
would be all right.
“Hawley,” said the Inspector after the third ring.
“It’s me, Inspector,” said Rafferty. “Did you find out anything yet?”
“Not really,” said Hawley. “Bones’s gun has been tied to some murders in the foreign
crowd. I’m sitting on it so far. I don’t want to give him to the French until I know
what’s going on.”
“What about Corklin?,” asked Rafferty.
“No match there, or the other shooting last night,” said Hawley. “The bullets we
recovered don’t match Bones’s gun as far as our laboratory people can tell.”
“So I’m back to square one,” said Rafferty. “Who else had it in for both Corklin and
me?”
“Probably anyone who hated Mick Brown and wants to blame you two for letting him
off the hook,” said Hawley.
“That could be anybody,” said Rafferty. “I have to get started looking around. I’ll let
you know how things go.”
“Be careful,” said Hawley. “If they already took a shot at you once, they’re bound to
do it again.”
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