Strictly For Cash Part 2

I couldn't keep my eyes off the woman who was sitting just below my corner: near enough, if we both stretched out our arms, for us to touch fingers. Even as I waved to the crowd, I continued to stare at her, and she was worth staring at.

I've seen a good many beautiful women in my time, on the movies and off, but never one like this. Her hair was jet black and glossy, parted in the centre, a thin white line as exact as if it had been drawn with a sharp-edged tool and a ruler in marble. Her eyes were big and black and glittering. Her skin was like alabaster, and her mouth wide and scarlet. She was lean and lovely and hungry looking.

Unlike the other women sitting at the ringside, she wasn't wearing an evening gown. She had on an apple-green linen suit, a white silk blouse and no hat. Her shoulders were broad, and to judge from her long, slim legs, she would be above the average height when she stood up. Under that smart, cool and provocative outfit was a shape that drove the fight, Petelli and the rest of the set-up clean out of my mind.

She was looking up at me, her eyes wide and excited, and we exchanged glances. The look she gave me turned my mouth dry and sent my pulse racing. Even a Trappist monk would have known what that look was saying, and I wasn't a Trappist monk.

aWhat's the matter with you?a Waller mumbled as he laced my gloves. aYou look like someone's already socked you.a aCould have,a I said, and smiled at her, and she smiled back: an intimate, we-could-have-fun-together kind of smile that hit me where I lived.

I turned to see who she was with: an expensive-looking item in a fawn seersucker suit. He was handsome enough with his dark, wavy hair, his olive complexion and his regular features, but his good looks were marred by his thin, hard mouth and the viciously angry expression in his eyes as he returned my curious stare.

aGet out there,a Waller said, and shoved me to my feet. aThe ref's waiting. What's the matter with you?a And the referee was waiting, and the Kid was waiting too. I joined them in the middle of the ring.

aIt's all right, chummy,a the Kid sneered. aYou don't have to hug your corner that long. I ain't going to hit you just yet.a aAll right, boys,a the referee said sharply, alet's cut out the funny stuff and get down to business. Now, listen to me . . .a He started on the old routine I had heard so often before. While he was talking, I asked myself why she had looked at me like that. I don't claim to know much about women, but I knew that smile was an open invitation.

aOkay, boys,a the referee said when he was through with the routine stuff, aback to your corners, and come out fighting.a aAnd, chummy, you'll know you've been in a fight when you leave feet first,a the Kid said, slapping me on the back.

And so would he, I thought, as I returned to my corner. Waller took off my dressing gown and I turned to get a last look at her.

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling.

aKnock that smug smile off his face, handsome,a she called. aIt's time someone did.a Her escort put his hand on her arm, scowling, but she shook it off impatiently.

aAnd good luck . . .a aThanks,a I said.

Outraged, Waller got between her and me.

aKeep your mind on this fight,a he said as the bell went.

The Kid came out fast, his chin tucked down into his left shoulder, a c.o.c.ky grin on his face. He led with a left that was a foot short, weaved away and tossed over a right. That was short too. I moved around him looking for an opening. I wanted to land one hard jolt that would slow him down. I could see he was a lot faster on his feet than I was.

He caught me with a left to the face: not a hard punch. I countered with a left and right to the body. His left jumped into my face again, and he tried a right cross, but I ducked under it and socked him in the body. He got in close and began hammering away at my ribs, but I tied him up, and the referee had to pull us apart. I got in a good left jab to his face as we broke, and he didn't like it. He moved away fast, snorting, then came in again, throwing rights and lefts. I smothered everything he handed out, stepped in and nailed him with a blockbuster that sent him down on his hands and knees.

The crowd went mad. A knockdown in the first two minutes of the fight was something they hadn't expected, and they rose to their feet, screaming for me to go in and smash the Kid.

I had gone to a neutral corner while the referee began his count. I was a little worried. I hadn't meant to hit him that hard. He remained on hands and knees, looking up at the referee's arm, a glazed stare in his eyes. But he got up at the count of seven and immediately started back-pedalling. I went after him, hitting him with rights and lefts, but pulling my punches, not wanting to get him into more trouble, but putting up a show to please the crowd. They were pleased all right. Every now and then I landed with an open glove, and the slap it made sounded as if I were killing him.

He finally got his head clear and began to fight back. He was snarling and scared. I could tell how scared he was by the way he threw punches that were yards short. All he was thinking about now was to keep clear of my right. He had had one dose of it and he didn't want another.

The round ended with us leaning on each other and slamming at each other's ribs. At close quarters he was good, and he got in a couple of digs that hurt.

The bell went and I returned to my corner. While Waller was working over me, I looked in her direction.

She was staring up at me, not smiling, her eyes angry, her mouth set. I knew what was the matter with her. She hadn't been fooled by those open-glove slaps even if they had fooled the crowd. Waller shoved a sponge of cold water in my face. He was smart enough to see who was distracting my attention, and he moved around so his body blocked her from my sight.

Brant came up as Waller was drying my face.

aWhat are you playing at?a he demanded in a breathless whisper. His face was white and strained. aWhy did you hit him like that?a aWhy not? He's in here for a fight, isn't he?a aPetelli says . . .a aOh, the h.e.l.l with Petelli !a The bell went for the second round, and I moved out of my corner. The Kid came out cautiously, an apprehensive expression on his face. He kept pus.h.i.+ng his left out, trying to keep me away, but I had the longer reach. I poked one in his face, stepped in and hooked him high up on the head. He fought back, catching me with a right and left that had a lot of steam in them, and for a few seconds we mixed it, socking each other about the body while the crowd roared its approval. The Kid was the first to break off.

I caught him with a hook as he moved away and opened a cut under his right eye. He was swearing at me now, and I went after him, jabbing at his face with lefts and rights. He kept covering up, trying to protect his damaged eye. I got in close and socked him in the body. It must have dawned on him he wasn't going to get an easy win, and in a frenzy of rage and desperation he suddenly cut loose.

He caught me with a right swing that had all his weight behind it. It was a stunning punch, and it dazed me. As I groped my way into a clinch, trying to get my head clear, he b.u.t.ted me in the face. I reeled back, covering up, and as he rushed, I slammed a left in his face, but he knew he had hurt me, and kept coming, throwing punches from every angle. I rode most of them, smothered the rest. It was a hectic minute, but I kept my head, knowing he was certain to give me an opening, and he did. He slung a wild right that left him as wide open as the ocean, and I stepped in and hung one on his jaw. He went down as if he had been cut off at the knees.

Before the referee could start a count, the bell went. The Kid's handlers rushed into the ring and dragged him to his corner.

I went slowly back to my stool and sat down. Pepi was waiting for me.

aNext round, you fixer,a he snarled in my ear. aThat's orders.a aGet away from me !a I said, and greatly daring, Waller shoved him off the ap.r.o.n of the ring and began to sponge my face. Waller was breathing heavily and grinned excitedly at me as he worked over me.

aYou're doing fine,a he said. aWatch his right. He can still punch.a I looked across the ring. They were working like madmen on the Kid, flapping towels at him, holding smelling salts under his nose and ma.s.saging the back of his neck.

aWell, I guess this is it,a I said. aLast round coming up.a aYeah,a Waller said. aAnyway, he's been in a fight. You ain't cheated anyone.a I looked over my shoulder at her. She was smiling again, and waved to me.

The bell went, and I moved out. The Kid started to backpedal. He had a gash down the side of his nose, a cut under his right eye, and there were great red patches on his ribs where I had socked him.

I trapped him in a corner and nailed him hang on his damaged nose. Blood spurted from his face as if I'd slammed a rotten tomato against a wall. The crowd screamed itself hoa.r.s.e as he wilted and fell into a clinch. I had to hold him up or he would have gone down. I wrestled him around, trying to make it look good until he got a grip on himself.

aOkay, playboy,a I said in his ear. aThrow your best punch.a I broke and stepped back. He shoved out a left that wouldn't have dented a rice pudding. I ducked under it and came in, wide open. Somehow he managed to screw up enough strength to let go with an uppercut. I went down on one knee. I wasn't hurt, but if I were going to take a dive I had to prepare the way for it.

I bet the yell that went up from the crowd could have been heard as far south as Miami.

The referee stood over me and began his count. I looked over at the Kid. The relief on his face was comic. He leaned against the ropes, blood dripping from his cuts, his knees buckling.

I shook my head as if I were dazed, and at six I got up. The Kid's face was a study. He had been sure I was going to stay down. Instead of coming in, he began to back away, and that got a jeering laugh from the crowd. His seconds yelled for him to go in and finish me, and with pitiful reluctance he changed direction and came at me. I made out I was wobbly, but I slipped the left he threw at me and landed another jab on his gashed face. At least he was going to earn his victory. Gasping with pain and fury, he lashed out as I dropped my guard. He caught me on the side of the jaw. Down I went.

I had walked right into it, intending to catch it, and I caught it.

For the first three seconds I was out, then I opened my eyes and found myself flat on my face, looking right down at her. She was standing up, her eyes like twin explosions, and as our eyes met, she screamed furiously, aGet up and fight! Get up, you quitter!a She was so close she could have touched me. Half the ringside customers were on their feet, yelling at me, but I had ears only for her voice.

aGet up, Johnny!a she screamed at me. aYou can't quit now!a The anger, contempt and disappointment on her face electrified me. It was all I needed. It flashed through my mind I had never intended to obey Petelli's orders anyway, and that scornful, screaming voice and the black, furious eyes clinched it.

I heard the referee call a . . . seven . . . eight . . .a I got up somehow, beating his down-sweeping arm by a split second, and as the Kid rushed in, I grabbed his arms and hung on like grim death. I knew by the desperate way he struggled to get free he realized I was going to double-cross Petelli, and he was going to lose the fight unless he could nail me before I had shaken off the effects of his punch.

I hung on in spite of all he did, and in spite of the referee trying to tear us apart. I only needed four or five seconds to get my head clear, and when I did decide it was safe to break, I stabbed my left into the Kid's cut-up face before he could get set to throw a finis.h.i.+ng punch.

Panting and wild he came at me, but I weaved away, back-pedalled, and left him floundering. He was as wild as a rogue elephant now, and kept rus.h.i.+ng at me while I dodged and retreated until I was good and ready to take him. Then as he came in for the fourth time I stopped in my tracks and brought over the right look. It smashed against his jaw and down he went in a flurry of blood, rolled over and stiffened out.

It was a waste of time to count him out, but the referee went through the motions. When he reached ten, the Kid was still lying on his back as motionless as a corpse.

White and scared looking, the referee moved over to me and lifted my glove as if it was loaded with dynamite.

aFarrar's the winner!a I looked at her. She was standing up, flushed and excited, and she blew me a kiss. Then the ring became crammed with pressmen and photographers, and I lost sight of her.

Petelli appeared out of the crowd. He was smiling, but his eyes were hot and intent.

aOkay, Farrar,a he said. aWell, you know what to expect.a He moved away to speak to the Kid's manager, and Waller, his face grey and his eyes rolling, came over to me and dropped my dressing-gown across my shoulders.

As I climbed out of the ring I caught sight of Pepi, a tight little grin on his face, waiting at the top of the ramp.

chapter seven.

I felt safe enough so long as the dressing-room was crowded with pressmen and fans who had come to shake hands with me and to tell me what a fine fighter I was, but when they began to drift away I knew trouble was creeping up on me.

Waller had returned to the dressing room with me. He was scared all right, and as soon as he had finished rubbing me down, he began to cast nervous and longing glances at the door. Tom Roche had been in, but I got rid of him quickly. I didn't want him mixed up in any trouble.

There were now only a couple of pressmen and three fans left, and they were arguing in a corner about who had the heaviest punch among the old heavyweights, and they weren't paying any attention to me.

aOkay, Henry,a I said, as I fixed my tie. aDon't wait. Thanks for all you've done.a aThere ain't anything I can do for you,a Waller said. aYou'd better get out fast. Don't let them catch you alone.a He wiped his s.h.i.+ny face with the back of his hand. aYou shouldn't have done it.

aShouldn't have done a" what?a A creepy sensation ran up my spine as I turned. There she was in her apple-green linen suit, her big black eyes looking into mine, a cigarette between her white-gloved fingers. aWhat shouldn't you have done, Johnny?a Waller edged away and slid out of the room, leaving me staring at her like a paralysed deaf mute. The little group in the corner stopped talking and eyed her hungrily.

One of the pressmen said, aLet's go, boys: this is the one time a fighter really likes to lose his friends.a They all laughed as if he had cracked the best joke in the world, but they went. The little room seemed suddenly vast and empty as the last of them drifted through the doorway.

ah.e.l.lo,a I said, and reached for my coat. aDid you win any money?a She smiled. Her teeth were small and even and sharply white against her scarlet lips.

aA thousand, but you gave me a heart attack when you went down. I had to lay out four and I thought I was going to lose it.a aSorry about that,a I said. aI wasn't concentrating. There was a girl at the ringside who took my mind right off my business.a aOh!a She looked at me from under her eyelashes. aHow did she do that?a aShe happened to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.a aYou should tell her that. Girls like being told things like that.a aI am telling her.a aI see.a She continued to smile, but her eyes hardened. aThat's very flattering, but I don't believe it. It looked like a dive to me.a My face reddened.

aWhat do you know about dives?a aAll the signs were on the wall. The funny little men whispering in your ear, the way you left yourself open. I go to all the fights. It happens every now and then. What made you change your mind?a aThe girl,a I said, aand the thought of all the little mugs who were betting on me.a aThis girl seems to have had quite an influence on you,a she said, studying me, then she went on, aI think you're handsome, Johnny.a I leaned against the wall, aware I was wasting precious time. I shouldn't be talking to this girl. I should be getting out of here before the crowd left. That was my only chance of giving Pepi and Benno the slip. But not even Petelli himself could have got me out of this room at this moment.

aWho are you?a I asked. aWhy did you come up here?a Her face was serious now, but there was still that look in her eyes that kept sending tingles up my spine.

aNever mind who I am. Call me Della if you must call me something,a she said. aI'm here because you're in trouble, and I guess it's partly my fault. You are in trouble, aren't you?a aYeah, but it's nothing you can do anything about.a aHow bad is the trouble?a aTwo Wops are laying for me. If they catch up with me, it's probably curtains.a aYou double-crossed Petelli?a That startled me.

aYou know him?a aThat little thug! I know of him, but I wouldn't know him if he were the last man on earth. We're wasting time. I'll get you out of here.a She went to the window and looked out. aYou can reach the car-park by climbing down that pipe.a I joined her at the window. There weren't many cars left in the park by now.

aThere's my car: the first one on the right in the second row. If you can reach it without being seen, you'll be safe.a aWait a minute,a I said, looking at the low-slung Bentley coup she was pointing at. aI can't drag you into this. These Wops are dangerous.a aDon't be a fool. They won't know a thing about it.a aLet's be sensible about this . . .a aOh, don't argue! I'm going down to the car now. Lock the door after me. As soon as you see me down there, come on after me. I'll drive over to you. Get in the front seat and leave the rest to me.a Glancing at the Bentley again, I spotted the expensive-looking item in the seersucker suit. He was standing by the car, looking to right and left.

aYour friend won't like this,a I said. aHe's waiting for you now.a She laughed, a hard, humourless little sound that made me stare at her.

aHe's not a friend: he's my husband,a she said, and moved quickly to the door. aI won't be five minutes. Don't let anyone in.a She was gone before I could stop her.

I crossed the room and shot the bolt. Now I was alone the room seemed horribly empty. I returned to the window. Her husband was pacing up and down beside the car. As I watched him he took out a cigarette case and lit a cigarette. By the way he threw the match on the ground I could see he was exasperated.

A faint sound behind me made me turn quickly, my eyes going to the door. I saw the door handle begin to turn. Someone the other side of the door pushed gently against the panels. The bolt held, and the handle slowly reversed.

Well, they were out there now. I guessed they thought it was safe to call on me now the stadium was nearly cleared. Over the loudspeaker system dance music was blaring: loud enough to drown the sound of a shot.

I tiptoed across the room and examined the bolt. It wasn't too strong. I heard someone whispering outside. I couldn't hear what was said, but the sound made the hair on the nape of my neck bristle.

I caught hold of the rubbing-table and pulled it across to the door and wedged one end under the handle. I was thinking fast now: a little scared, but not in a panic. They knew the layout of the stadium a lot better than I did. They'd know the climb down from my window wasn't difficult, and as soon as they found they couldn't break in they'd guess it would be by the window I'd try to escape, and Pepi would be there to pick me off.

It wouldn't take him three or four minutes to get down the concrete steps, around to the side door and out to the parking lot. He was probably on his way now. I had to get going at once.

As I swung my legs over the windowsill someone drove his shoulder against the door. The table held the door solid. I didn't look back, but climbed out of the window on to the ledge.

In my hurry to get to the drainpipe I took a false step and my foot shot off into s.p.a.ce. I managed to dig my fingers into the c.h.i.n.ks of the uneven concrete wall, and hold myself steady. It was a pretty nasty moment. If I hadn't had strong fingers I would have fallen. Somehow I managed to regain my balance. I slowly drew up my foot and found the ledge again. With my heart hammering I kept on, reached the drainpipe and began to climb down. Ten feet from the ground I let go and dropped.

I heard a car start up. I heard, too, the sound of running feet. For a moment I was tempted to bolt towards the car, but decided it would be safer to remain in the shadow of the wall rather than go out into the brightly lit car park.

The Bentley swung towards me. She hadn't turned on the car lights. Beyond, and away to the left, I spotted Pepi. He was about a hundred yards from me, standing still, looking towards the window of the dressing room as if waiting for me to appear, and I realized he didn't know I was already down. Then I heard a loud crash and knew the door of the dressing room had been forced open.

The Bentley slowed down as it reached me, and the door swung open.

aGet in a" quick!a Della cried, keeping the car on the move.

I scrambled in beside her and she shot the car forward. I managed to get the door shut as the car raced down the broad drive-in.

As she leaned forward to snap on the lights, she said, aDid they spot you?a aI'm not sure.a I swung around in my seat to look through the rear window. The dark, curly haired man who she said was her husband was sitting at the back. It was too dark to see his face. I couldn't see any following car's headlights.

aDoesn't look like it,a I said. aAnyway, they're not coming after us.a aYou must be crazy to get us mixed up in this, Della!a the man at the back exploded. aStop the car and let this fella out!a She laughed.

aOh, shut up, Paul. They were going to shoot him. I couldn't let them do that after he'd won me a grand.a aYou little fool! You're always getting into trouble.a Again she laughed.

aI'm loving every minute of this.a He gave a grunt of disgust and slumped down in his seat.

aWell, let's get out of here. As soon as we're away from the stadium, stop and let him out.a aDon't take any notice of him,a she said to me. aWe're going to Lincoln Beach. Want to come?a aYes,a I said.

We were approaching the main gates of the stadium now, and it suddenly occurred to me that Petelli might have got word down there to stop us. I told Della.

aSquat on the floor. You may be right.a There were a number of cars ahead of us now, moving slowly through the big gates, and she had to slow to a crawl.

aThere're two guards looking into each car as it pa.s.ses,a she whispered to me. aI'm going to stop and let the other cars get on ahead.a aThere's a car behind us and coming fast,a Paul said, a rasp in his voice.

aYou'd better let me out,a I said, but she put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me lower.

aBe quiet!a She swung around to look through the rear window. From where I crouched I had a good view of one long, shapely leg and a small foot in a white buckskin shoe. I could also see the glare of headlights coming through the rear window showing how close the other car was. A horn blared as she slowed down.

aBetter not stop,a Paul said. aKeep in the centre of the road so they can't pa.s.s, but keep moving.a The car continued to crawl forward.

aIt's clearing ahead,a she told me. aWe're coming up to the gates.a I looked up. The car was moving a little faster now. Through the window I caught a glimpse of a man in a peak cap looking right at me.

aHey! You! Just a minute . . .a he said excitedly, and wrenched open the door.

I grabbed the inside handle, slammed the door shut as Della trod down on the accelerator. The Bentley surged forward as the guard yelled again. I was sitting up now. Ahead of us was a car, blocking the way out. She swung the wheel and we b.u.mped up on to the gra.s.s verge, missing the other car's fenders by inches, then we shot out on to the highway.

aNow . . .a she said, and increased speed.

aThey're right on our tail,a Paul cried furiously. aG.o.dd.a.m.n it! I told you not to fool with this!a Her reply was to push the accelerator to the boards. The needle of the speedometer began to flicker up to ninety. It hesitated, then crept up to ninety-two . . . three and hovered at ninety-four.

The glare of the following headlights receded.

aLosing them now,a she cried, her eyes fixed on the pool of light that rushed before us from the Bentley's headlamps. aThey can't catch us now.a aWatch the road or you'll have us over!a Paul shouted, and sat forward to look over her shoulder through the winds.h.i.+eld. aThe road curves ahead. You'll have to slow down before long.a aDon't pester me!a she snapped. aI know this road as well as you do!a I looked behind. The pursuing car wasn't all that far in the rear: not more than two hundred yards, and as Della was forced to reduce speed as the road began to curve around the palmetto thickets that lay on either side, the big Cadillac began to creep up on us.