The Fight Begins
At Zenith Point Hegarty, starting Tuesday morning, had paced the deck
all day, stopping hardly for meals, cursing fluently at the slightest
interruption of his thoughts, and finally retiring to his cabin in the
late afternoon to which he shortly summoned his lieutenants.
They were a cold and hard-appearing group of men quite in contrast to
the emotional Hegarty who now laid before them a proposition.
“You, Marzonij,” said he to the smallest of the men.
“Yeh, Boss?” the fellow replied, expectantly.
Thin, pale-faced, he did not look as one would expect him to look, for
Marzonij was Hegarty’s best gunman, a merciless killer when doped with
a certain drug to which he was addicted. But, because he was small, he
could slip up alleys faster in the dark.
“How’s your rod, Marzonij?” asked Hegarty as evenly as he could.
“O.k., Boss. My finger’s itchin’ fer the trigger!”
“Well, here’s the lay-out, Marzonij,” said Hegarty, talking fast but
distinctly now as if he had thought the whole thing out. “We know
this Gallagher is a Fed. If Cowboy knew it, he’d bump him off, and it
just might be a help to us. Not only would we be clear of a bit of
typewriting by that guy who is a perfect shot, but the blame for the
killing could be laid to Cowboy!”
“How you want me to do it, Boss?”
“Well, the boys at the island expect us Thursday at midnight, don’t
they?”
Several men nodded, curtly.
“We been planning to make it Wednesday and surprise them. Well, we’re
going to do it _to-night_ instead!”
A chorus of approval greeted this piece of news.
“And more than that: Marzonij is going to go to the island now, make
a deal to sign up with Cowboy, if he can, and tip Cowboy off to
Gallagher’s real name and job! Marzonij is going to be on the spot
when we get there and maybe--” he paused for effect, “Maybe----”
“--Maybe I’ll get a shot at Cowboy, eh?” queried Marzonij eagerly.
Hegarty grinned.
“Marzonij,” said he, “you should oughta go to the head of the class!”
The little man was shortly headed for Porpoise Island, guiding a
varnished tender while a powerful outboard motor roared as he crossed
the bay. He patted the area under his left armpit reassuringly now and
then grinned. He was not only heading for a job he would enjoy, but
he’d soon be assistant to Hegarty as head of Cowboy’s swell syndicate.
He circled the sea side of Porpoise Island, located the cove and went
in fast, roaring up to the landing-stage as if some one were apt to
appear in pursuit at any moment.
“Where’s Nevada?” he demanded as one of Mr. Nevens’ henchmen came
forward on the wharf to investigate.
“In conference, fellow!” said the mobster testily. “What-a you want?”
“I gotta see him right off. I got news!”
“Wait here and I’ll see if he’ll talk to ya!” the man said.
As he turned to go, he met Dago who had just come from the cabin. Dago
frowned as he surveyed Marzonij.
“_I’ll_ see Cowboy for you,” Dago said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“But what the devil would Marzonij want to tell me?” Cowboy said aloud.
“Well, show him up. And you, Gallagher, keep the guy covered. This may
be a trap!”
Marzonij came in with Dago and confronted the man he hoped soon to kill.
“How-ya, Cowboy?” said he by way of greeting.
“Nice day,” Cowboy said, crisply.
“I got news fer you, Cowboy, private news.”
“You kin talk in front of Gallagher.”
Marzonij frowned.
“This news has gotta be said _alone_.”
“Not till you’re frisked, first, Marzonij,” said Cowboy, quietly.
“Go ahead, frisk me, but all I’m carrying is my regular cannon. No
trick rods or nothing. Nevada, I’m hoping to sign on with you!”
Cowboy Nevada lit himself a black cigar and motioned Dago to frisk the
informer. Dago produced the automatic from the armpit holster, nothing
else. Cowboy nodded to Gallagher and the G-man got up and went out with
Dago and Wan Ho Din.
Back in the room Cowboy said curtly, “Get talking!”
Marzonij did, saying in brief, that he and Hegarty had had a falling
out and besides he, Marzonij, figgered Cowboy was likely to win the
coming scrap.
“To show you I’m all right,” Marzonij said, “let me tell ya that the
raid is coming Wednesday night, to-morrow night, instead of Thursday!”
Cowboy puffed on his cigar quietly.
“I guessed as much anyhow.”
“And another thing, Hegarty found out the dope on this Gallagher guy
and I swiped something to show you!”
He produced a photograph from his inside pocket and handed it to
Cowboy. He also produced a newspaper clipping and showed it to the
crime head. The clipping was headed by a photo just like the original
print.
“SANDBORN LANDS GOVERNMENT JOB!”
The clipping, clipped from an old newspaper, explained that Mr.
Sandborn had been successful in going to work for the government in one
of the law-enforcement agencies. It did not give details (for it had
so happened that Mr. Sandborn had kept the details very secret) but it
gave his home address.
“Where’d you get this?” demanded Cowboy, staring hard.
“Well, Hegarty, as ya know, has a keen memory fer faces, and he had
a hunch, after he met Gallagher that he’d seen tha face somewhere’s
before so he goes to work and has a bunch of us hunting through the
local papers fer a picture of Gallagher, ’cause Hegarty has the hunch
the guy’s a local man! And, after a lotta looking he finds this
clipping in the old file of the newspaper and being as the guy’s
address and that of the kids what helped get Hogan is alike we figures
we kin get a clear picture at the guy’s home. So we breaks in quiet
one night and gets us a picture from the guy’s private den and this is
it! Hegarty remembers reading the clipping in the paper some time back
and he says, ‘This Gallagher guy is a G-man by the name o’ Sandborn!
That’s the only answer to him working for Cowboy!’”
Cowboy Nevada’s cigar had gone out as he listened and he discarded it
while he stared into space.
“Gallagher’s a G-man!” he muttered. “Yeh, that’s right! That would
explain everything! No wonder the guy’s such a crack shot with a
tommy-gun!”
Suddenly Cowboy Nevada felt chilly though the room was quite warm.
Cold chills ran down his back! Why, he’d _explained_ everything to
Gallagher! _Told_ him everything! _Showed_ him everything! _And the guy
was a G-man!_ Cowboy began to sweat a little till his palms were moist!
He hadn’t figured on tackling the F. B. I. yet awhile! He had wanted
time to take over the control of politics first, then he’d have found a
way to break up that band of law-men! Now he’d have to battle the F.
B. I. and Hegarty, too! Cowboy turned savagely on Marzonij.
“Listen, you rat!” said he, “you get back to Hegarty and stay there! I
been pretty good on hunches all my life. I had a hunch Gallagher was
o.k. Well, I got stung! I can’t trust my hunches anymore! How do I know
you ain’t aiming to bump me off for Hegarty, you little----!”
Cowboy Nevada paused for breath.
“Scram, Marzonij,” said he, “before I lose me code of ethics and rub
you out! Get going and keep going!”
He crumpled the clipping and the photograph and stuck them into his
desk-drawer, and Marzonij left, unarmed.
“Take Marzonij to his boat!” said Cowboy to Wan Ho Din, “and see that
he gets outa Black Cove and stays out!”
After that he sent Gallagher on an errand to one of the supply rooms
while he closeted himself with Dago.
“Dago,” said he, “I ain’t too sure of Gallagher!”
Dago brightened perceptibly.
“I ain’t never been, boss. I gotta sneakin’ notion that Gallagher ain’t
what he says he is. I gotta idea he-a----”
“Well----?”
“He might even be a Fed, Boss!” said Dago, taking a deep breath as if
he expected Cowboy to shoot him on the spot for that idea.
Amazement overran Dago’s face as Cowboy grinned.
“He _is_--Dago!”
Dago ran a thick forefinger slowly round his neckband while
perspiration stood out in big beads on his red forehead! Slowly and
deliberately he swallowed.
“Yer kiddin’, Boss!”
“This ain’t no time fer kiddin’, Dago! We gotta get rid of the kids and
Sandborn.”
“‘Sandborn?’” Dago asked slowly and distinctly.
“Yeh, you see, the yellow-haired kid is really--a G-man’s son!”
“No wonder the kid helped get Hogan!” said Dago. “With his old man a
dick!”
Cowboy put his feet down on the floor.
“We got work to do, Dago. First we gotta get rid of our guests, then
we gotta get ready for Hegarty. He’s due Wednesday night ’stead of
Thursday!”
A loud rumbling sound penetrated the cabin, followed by several
staccato sounds. Dago regarded Cowboy with thoughtful and worried gaze.
“Due Wednesday, Boss?”
Cowboy grabbed his six-shooters from their holsters and started for the
door as the cabin reverberated with gunfire!
“They’re here _now_, Dago!” he yelled. “Come on!”