The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Six by Louis L’Amour Read Free Book Online Page A

meet Eberhardt, if that was him in the car, and seven to ten it was. Then they would what…go back to the place where Sixte was held…had been held? Or would it simply be a delivery of the tickets? If they split, they would be followed separately, if they went together, so much the better. He stopped shaving and called for another undercover car to be sent out to Rubio’s place.
    Mike Frost rubbed his smooth cheek and started on his upper lip.
             
    T OM S IXTE FELT the first strand of the clothesline part, but nothing else came loose. He tugged, it was tight and strong. He waited, resting. It was getting late.
    For some time now, there had been restless movements upstairs. Suddenly, the footsteps turned and started toward the cellar steps. Instantly, Sixte rolled over and over, then sat up, his face toward the steps.
    Phyllis came down until she could see him, then stopped and stared. Her face was strained and white, her eyes seemed very bright.
    She stared at him, and said nothing, so he took a chance. “Did he run out on you?”
    Her lip curled and she came down onto the floor. For a minute, he thought she would hit him. Then she said, “He won’t run out on me. He wouldn’t dare.”
    Sixte shook his head a little. “Man, have I got a headache! My head got hit on the steps.” She made no reply, chewing on her lip. “Look,” he said, “can’t we make a deal? You an’ me?”
    Her eyes were cold, but beyond it, he could see she was scared. “What kind of deal?”
    “Get me on that plane and I’ll give
you
the five thousand.”
    It got to her, all right. He could see it hit home. “You’re in this deeper than he is. Why should he collect? Seems to me he’s been gone a long time.”
    “The banks are closed now.”
    “You’d know somebody. My identification is good. We could tell them I got in a scrap with your boyfriend, and want to get out of town, that I have my tickets, but need cash.”
    She was thinking it over. No question about that. She had it in mind. “I know a guy who might have it.”
    “Then it’s a deal?”
    “I’ll give him ten minutes more,” she said. “It’s almost five.”
    She went back up the stairs, and Sixte returned to his sawing at the ropes that bound him.

    A T 5:10 P.M ., his cheeks smooth, his hair freshly combed, Mike Frost got a call. Rubio and Eberhardt had made contact. They had gone into the house and there was a man with them. He was a short, powerfully built man in a gray suit.
    An unmarked police car slid into place alongside the curb under some low-hung branches. Nobody got out. A man sauntered up the street and struck a match, lighting a cigarette. It was a cloudy afternoon and there was a faint smell of rain in the air.
    Mike Frost was sweating. He was guessing and guessing wild. The man in the gray suit could be Tony Shapiro. He hesitated, then picked up the telephone and dialed the FBI.
    When he hung up, his phone rang. Rubio, Eberhardt, and the other man had come out. They all got into Rubio’s car and started away. They were being checked and followed.
             
    A T 5:22 P.M ., the cellar door suddenly opened and Phyllis came down the steps sideways. She went over to Sixte and she had a gun in her hand. “You try anything, and I’ll kill you,” she said, and he believed her.
    He had his hands loose and he brought them around in front of him. “See?” he said. “I’m playing fair. I could have let you come closer and jumped you.” He began to untie the ropes on his ankles.
    When he got up, he staggered. Barely able to walk, he got up the stairs. Then he brushed himself off, splashed water on his face, and combed his hair. As they reached the door, a taxi rolled up.
    “Don’t try anything.”
    The cabdriver looked around, his eyes hesitating on Sixte’s bruised face.
    “The Shadow Club,” Phyllis said, and sat back in the seat. Her features were drawn and fine, her eyes wide open. She sat on Sixte’s right and had