Part Three: Him Ten: Whassat?

"KERIST, whassat?" Sluggsy had backed away, and his hand was inside his leather jacket.
Horror recovered himself first. There was a cold snarl on his face. "Git over behind the door, Sluggsy. Hold your fire until I tell you. You,"-he spat the words at me-"get yourself into shape. You've got to front for us. If you don't do it good, you're dead. Understand? You'll be shot. Now get over to that door and find out who it is. Tell 'em the same story you told us. Get me? And take that silly expression off your face. No one's going to hurt you if you do what I say. Pull that zipper up, dammit!" I was struggling with the thing. It was stuck. "Well, hold the damn thing together across your chest and get moving. I'll be right behind you. And don't forget, one wrong word and you get blasted through the back. And the guy, too. Now scram over there."
My heart was beating wildly. Somehow, whatever happened, I was going to save myself!
There was now a loud knocking at the door. I went slowly over, holding the top half of my overalls together. I knew the first thing I had to do!
When I got to the door, Sluggsy leaned sideways and unlocked it. Now everything depended on the speed of my hands. I took hold of the door handle with my left hand and, as I turned it, my right hand let go of the overalls and dived down to the chain and unhooked it. Somebody cursed softly behind me and I felt the prod of a gun in my back, but then I had swung the door wide open, crashing Sluggsy against the wall behind it. I had gambled that, without knowing if it was perhaps the police or a road patrol, they wouldn't shoot. They hadn't. Now all depended on the solitary man who stood on the threshold.
At first glance I inwardly groaned-God it's another of them! He stood there so quiet and controlled and somehow with the same quality of deadliness as the others. And he wore that uniform that the films make one associate with gangsters-a dark-blue belted raincoat and a soft black hat pulled rather far down. He was good-looking in a dark, rather cruel way, and a scar showed whitely down his left cheek. I quickly put my hand up to hide my nakedness. Then he smiled and suddenly I thought I might be all right.
When he spoke, my heart leaped. He was English! "I'm sorry. I've got a puncture." (An American would have said "a flat.") "And I saw the VACANCY sign. Can I have a room for the night?" Now he looked at me with curiosity, seeing that something was wrong.
This was going to be tricky! I might easily get us both killed. I said, "I'm sorry, but the motel's closed. The VACANCY sign was on by mistake." While I said this, I crooked the index finger of the hand at my chest, inviting him in. He looked puzzled. I had to give him a lead. "Is the puncture so bad that you can't get as far as Lake George?"
"Couldn't possibly. I've already come a mile on the run. The cover'll be gone by now."
I imperceptibly jerked my head backward, bidding him to come in. "Well, the insurance men are here from the owner. I'll have to ask them. You wait there." Again I beckoned with my finger. Then I turned and took two steps inside, keeping close to the door so that neither of them could bang it shut. But they were standing back, hands in their pockets, looking different kinds of hell at me. The man in the raincoat had taken my hint, and he was now well inside. When he saw the two men, his face somehow sharpened, but he said casually, "I expect you heard all that. Any objection to my spending the night here?"
Sluggsy said contemptuously, "Kerist! A limey! What is this, the United Nations?"
The thin man said curtly, "No dice, friend. You heard the lady. The motel's closed. We'll give you a hand changing the wheel and you can be on your way."
The Englishman said easily, "It's a bit late at night for that. I'm heading south and I doubt if there's anything on this road this side of Glens Falls. I think I'd prefer to stay here. After all, the VACANCY sign's on."
"You heard me, mister." Horror's voice was now tough. He turned to Sluggsy. "C'mon. We'll give the guy a hand with his flat." They both took a step toward the door. But the Englishman, bless him, stood his ground.
"It happens that I have friends at Albany, quite important friends. You wouldn't want to lose your motel operator's license, would you? The sign said VACANCY and the place is lit up. I'm tired and I claim a room." He turned to me. "Would that give you any trouble?"
I gushed. "Oh, no! None at all. It won't take me a minute to get a room ready. I'm sure Mr. Sanguinetti wouldn't want to do anything to lose his license?" I turned, wide-eyed and innocent, toward the two gangsters. They looked as if they were just about to pull their guns, but the thin man moved away, and Sluggsy followed him, and they talked for a moment in whispers. I took the opportunity to nod urgently and appealingly at the Englishman, and he gave me another of those reassuring smiles.
The thin man turned round. "Okay, limey. You can have the room. But just don't try and lean on us with that Albany guff. Mr. Sanguinetti has friends at the capital too. Mebbe you got a point with that VACANCY sign. But don't push your luck. We're in charge here and what we says goes. Right?"
"That's all right with me. And thanks. I'll get my bag."
He moved to go out. I said quickly, "I'll give you a hand." I hurried ahead of him, tugging furiously at my zip, feeling ashamed of how I must have looked. Blessedly, it suddenly yielded and I pulled it up to my throat.
He came up with me. I said urgently, out of the corner of my mouth-I was sure one of them had come to the door and was watching us-"Thank you! And thank God you came! They were going to murder me. But for God's sake look out. They're gangsters. I don't know what they want. It must be something bad. They shot at me when I tried to escape."
We came to the car. It was a dark gray two-seater Thunderbird with a soft top in cream, a beautiful thing. I said so. He said shortly that it was hired. He said, "Come round the other side. Just seem to be admiring the car." He leaned down and opened the low door and rummaged inside. He said, "Are they both armed?"
"Yes."
"How many guns each?"
"Don't know. The small one's a crack shot. At twenty feet or so. Don't know about the other."
He pulled out a small black suitcase, rested it on the ground, and snapped it open. He took something from under the clothes and slipped it into an inside pocket. He fiddled with one side of the case, took some thin black objects out that I took to be cartridge magazines, and stowed them away. Then he snapped the case shut, said, "Better have plenty of artillery," banged the door ostentatiously, and stood up. We then both went to the back of the car and knelt down to examine the flat tire. He said, "How about the telephone?"
"It's cut off."
"Give me the cabin next to yours."
"Of course."
"All right. Let's go. And keep close to me, whatever they do or say."
"Yes, and thank you."
He got up and smiled. "Wait till we're out of this."
We walked back together. Sluggsy, who had been standing in the doorway, shut the door after us and locked it. As an afterthought, he reached up and switched off the VACANCY sign. He said, "Here's your key, limey," and threw it on a table.
I picked it up and looked at the number. Forty, the last one along to the left. I said firmly, "The gentleman's going to have Number 10, next to mine," and walked over to the desk, forgetting that Sluggsy had all the other keys.
Sluggsy had followed me. He grinned. "No dice, baby. We don't know nuthin' about this guy. So Horror and me's sleepin' either side of you. Just to see you're not disturbed. Rest of the keys is put away ready for the move. There's just this Number 40 and nuthin' else." He turned to the Englishman. "Hey, limey. What's your name?"
"Bond. James Bond."
"That's a pretty chump name. From England, huh?"
"That's right Where's the registry? I'll spell it out for you."
"Wise guy, huh? What's your line of business?"
"Police."
Sluggsy's mouth opened. He ran his tongue over his lips. He turned and called over to Horror, who was sitting at his old table, "Hey, Horror. Guess what! This shamus is a limey dick! Whadya know about that? A gumshoe!"
Horror nodded. "Thought I smelled it. Who cares? We ain't done nuthin' wrong."
"Yeh," said Sluggsy eagerly, "that's right too." He turned to this Mr. Bond. "Now don't you go listening to any crap from this little hustler. We're from the insurance, see. Assessors, sort of. Work for Mr. Sanguinetti. He's a big wheel in Troy. Owns this outfit. Well, there'd been complaints from the managers of some cash missing. Other things too. So we come up to make an investigation, sort of, and when we put the question to this little tramp she slams my friend with an ice-pick bang on the think-pot. See for yourself." He waved in the direction of Horror. "Now how d'ya like that? So we was just restraining her, sort of, when you comes along." He turned. "Ain't that right, Horror?"
"That's on the level. That's how it was."
I said angrily, "You know that's a pack of lies." I walked over to the back door and pointed at the bent frame and the splash of lead, "How did that bullet hole get there?"
Sluggsy laughed heartily. "Search me, sister." He turned to Horror. "You seen any bullets flyin' around?"
"No, I ain't." Horror's voice was bored. He waved a languid hand toward the floor round the eating counter. "But I seen plenty hardware being slung at my pal by the lady." His eyes swiveled slowly to me. "That right, lady? An' there's a big carving knife down there somewhere. Good mind to book you for assault, come the morning."
"You do that!" I said hotly. "Just see where it'll get you! You know perfectly well I was trying to defend myself. And as for that story about the money, that's the first I've heard of it. And you know it."
The Englishman broke in quietly. "Well, it seems I came along at the right time to keep the peace. Now, where's that registry so that I can sign it?"
Sluggsy said curtly, "Register's with de boss. No purpose in signin' nuthin'. You ain't payin'. The place is closed. You can have your bed on the house."
"Well, thanks. That's very kind of you." James Bond turned to me. "Any chance of some eggs and bacon and coffee? All this talking's made me hungry. I can cook it myself if the stuff's there."
"Oh, no." I almost ran behind the counter. "I'd love to do it."
"Thank you very much." He turned his back on Sluggsy and sauntered over to the counter and hoisted himself onto a stool, putting his case on the next one.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched Sluggsy turn on his heel and walk quickly over to the thin man and sit down and begin talking urgently.
James Bond glanced over his shoulder at them and then got down off his stool and took off his raincoat and hat and put them on top of his case and climbed back. He silently watched the men in the long mirror at the back of the counter, while I busied myself with the cooking things and took him in with quick glances.
He was about six feet tall, slim and fit-looking. The eyes in the lean, slightly tanned face were a very clear gray-blue and as they observed the men they were cold and watchful. The narrowed watchful eyes gave his good looks the dangerous, almost cruel quality that had frightened me when I had first set eyes on him, but now that I knew how he could smile, I thought his face only exciting, in a way that no man's face had ever excited me before. He wore a soft-looking white silk shirt with a thin black knitted tie that hung down loosely without a pin, and his single-breasted suit was made of some dark blue lightweight material that may have been alpaca. The strong, rather good hands lay quietly on his crossed arms on the counter, and now he reached down to his hip pocket and took out a wide, thin gunmetal cigarette case and opened it.
"Have one? Senior Service. I suppose it'll have to be Chesterfields from now on." His mouth turned slightly down as he smiled.
"No, thanks. Not now. After I've done the cooking."
"By the way, what's your name? You're Canadian aren't you?"
"Yes, from Quebec. But I've been in England the last five years or so. I'm Vivienne Michel. My friends call me Viv."
"How in God's name did you manage to get into this fix? Those are a couple of the toughest hoodlums I've seen in years. And Troy's a bad town-sort of a gangster suburb to Albany. The thin one's just finished a long stretch in jail, or I'll eat my hat. The other looks like the worst kind of psycho. How did it happen?"
I told him, in short bursts between the cooking, and cutting out all but the essentials. He listened quietly and without comment. Music was still coming from the radio, but the two gangsters were sitting silently watching us, so I kept my voice low. When I had finished, I said, "But is it true that you're a policeman?"
"Not quite. But I'm in that sort of business."
"You mean a detective?"
"Well, sort of."
"I knew it!"
He laughed. "How?"
"Oh, I don't know. But you look, kind of-kind of dangerous. And that was a gun you took out of your bag, and ammunition. Are you"-I was embarrassed, but I needed to know-"are you official? I mean from the Government?"
He smiled reassuringly. "Oh, yes. Don't worry about that. And they know me in Washington. If we get out of this all right, I'm going to go after those two." His eyes were cold again. "I'm going to see they get roasted for what they did to you."
"You do believe me?"
"Of course. Every word. But what I can't make out is what they're up to. They seem to have acted as if they knew they were safe to do anything they liked with you. And now they seem quite calm about me having got into the act. I don't like it. Have they had any drinks? Do they smoke?"
"No. Neither of them."
"I don't like that either. It's only pros that don't."
I had finished cooking his supper and I put it up on the counter. He ate as if he was really hungry. I asked him if it was all right. He said it was wonderful, and I felt warm inside. What a fantastic bit of luck, this man, and just this man, coming so magically out of the blue! I felt humble about it. It was so much a miracle. I swore to myself to say my prayers that night, the first time for years. I hovered about him slavishly, offering him more coffee, some jam to finish his toast with. Finally he laughed tenderly at me. "You're spoiling me. Here, I'm sorry. I forgot all about it. It's time for your cigarette. You've earned the whole easeful." He lit it with a Ronson, gunmetaled like his case. My hand touched his, and I felt a small shock pass down my body. I suddenly found I was trembling. I quickly took the dishes and began washing them. I said, "I haven't earned anything. It's so wonderful you're here. It's an absolute miracle." My voice choked and I felt stupid tears coming. I brushed the back of my hand across my eyes. He must have seen, but he pretended not to have.
Instead he said cheerfully, "Yes. It was a stroke of luck. At least I hope so. Can't count the chickens yet. Tell you what. We've got to sit these two hoodlums out. Wait until they make a move, go to bed or something. Would you like to hear just how I came to turn up tonight? It'll all be in the papers in a day or two. The story. Only I won't be mentioned. So you must promise to forget my side of the thing. It's all nonsense, really. These regulations. But I have to work under them. All right? It might take your mind off your troubles. They seem to have been pretty powerful ones."
I said gratefully, "Yes, please tell me. And I promise. Cross my heart."